Filthy rich werewolves novel Chapter 14

JASON

Grace’s eyes roll back into her head. I hear her heart beating, so she isn’t dead. But for a moment, panic washed over me.

I don’t like the feeling.

Not one bit.

She’s arched backward and if not for my arm around her waist, she’d be a puddle on the cold ground.

My eyes rake over her. One side of her face is bright red. I brush my hands over another bruise already surfacing on her smooth face. My hand curls into a fist.

“Alpha, sir… it’s done. The order is given. The contract for Director Curtis’ company is terminated.”

My beta makes a sound when he sees her face. He’s not partial to any woman, that I’ve ever seen. But he does resent violence toward them.

“Break the hand of the person that hit her,” I tell him.

He nods.

I want to break every bone in that man’s body.

Terrence positions himself in front of the country club as if reading my mood. “We should get her home, sir. Before she awakens.”

Grace’s breathing…is off. “I think she’s been drugged.”

Terrence opens the door to the Escalade. “Victims of this sort of violence often are.”

“I changed my mind, kill him instead.”

Terrence’s brows go up. “That can be arranged. But it’s…messier. And quicker. Much less satisfying than, say, losing your career and prestige and being blacklisted from the industry.”

“A fair point.”

It’s why Terrence is my beta.

When Terrence is behind the wheel of the car and Grace is positioned on the seat beside me, her head on my lap, he peels out of the circular drive.

“Will she need a hospital?”

Maybe. But stripped of her wolf or not, we have rules about frequenting those sorts of human places. “Have one of our pack’s physicians meet us at her apartment.”

I count the beats of her heart, listen to her soft breathing.

She shudders and I rest my hand on her back.

Terrence’s brows draw together. I know what he’s thinking. Smart guy, he doesn’t say it aloud though.

It’s the same thing I’ve been wondering.

What. Am. I. Doing.

"I saw you coming out of the entrance of the building, so I brought you back," Jason says.

But how…"I didn't tell you that I went there."

“No. That’s true. But when you were answering the phone, I saw the text message. It listed the address,” he says. "Would you like some water? You'll probably feel better."

He hands me a glass of water. It’s warm, so he likely poured it a while ago. I take a few sips of and try to piece together the events of last night.

The events in that meeting room are crystal clear.

The pawing hands. My sister constraining me.

The hideous knowledge of what would happen when I felt the drug begin to take effect.

And then… quiet.

Peace.

Comfort.

Then the feel of his hard body against mine.

I rub my eyes. ”I didn't do anything strange when I was drunk, did I?" I can’t help but ask.