“How’s your chest feeling this morning?” Harley asked, resting her plate on her lap and loading her fork with scrambled eggs. They were mixed with spinach, tomatoes, and feta cheese and simply delicious. She could kiss every member of the support teams for getting all this food delivered.
Sawyer lifted his hand, his fingers lightly grazing his chest through the button-down he wore, wincing a little. “It’s healed for the most part but still a little tender to the touch and hurts when I cough. Your medics confirmed there weren’t any metal fragments in there, so it should be completely good to go by tonight.”
“That’s a relief.”
Harley used a slice of cantaloupe to scoop up some of the yogurt, chewing slowly. Werewolves could heal quickly from nearly any wound as long as there wasn’t any foreign debris in it. When Seamus had stabbed Sawyer, that had been the least of her worries. She’d been sure the blade had gone right through his heart, a wound that would kill even a werewolf.
At that moment, Harley had thought Sawyer was going to die right in front of her and it had been the most horrible moment of her life. Worse than getting hit by that avalanche. Worse than getting buried alive in freezing snow. Worse even than when her family had looked at her like she was a monster and turned their backs on her. At that moment, her chest had constricted so tightly that breathing was impossible and she knew she was going to die right along with him.
But then she’d pulled out the knife, Sawyer hadn’t died, Adriana had thrown herself on top of her criminal boyfriend, and Erin had lost her ever-loving mind. Somewhere buried in the middle of all that drama, Harley’s heart had started to beat again. With it, came a serious realization that the British MI6 agent meant more to her than she could ever have possibly imagined.
“You bit him, didn’t you?” Erin demanded, yanking Harley out of the confusing thoughts swirling around in her head. “You turned him into a bloody werewolf!”
Harley looked up to see Erin, glaring at her and Sawyer. Well, actually, glaring mostly at her. On the other hand, Elliott was staring straight at Sawyer. But his expression involved less anger and a lot more pity. Maybe he felt badly Sawyer had been turned into a monster by another monster.
Rory glanced up for a second, his face harder to read, but he didn’t seem nearly as upset as the other two. That was probably because he had a lot more experience with the supernatural world than his teammates. Unlike them, he didn’t look mad or even filled with pity. It was more like he was disappointed in some way.
“It doesn’t work that way, Erin,” Harley said, nibbling on the sweet custard pastry, hoping the other woman would listen to reason. “People can’t be turned into a werewolf from a bite.”
Erin stood so fast she nearly flipped over her chair. “Yeah right! You expect us to believe it’s a coincidence that within a few days of running into a team with three werewolves, Sawyer became one by accident? If you didn’t bite him, it’s only because the werewolf curse is sexually transmitted.”
Caleb snorted so hard Harley was shocked he didn’t choke on his food. When he fixed Erin with a hard look, Harley could tell he definitely wasn’t amused.
“I thought you were smarter than this,” he scoffed. “If becoming a werewolf was as simple as having sex with one, don’t you think we’d be up to our ears in them by now? Even if it were a bite, there’d still be thousands of us by now. Instead, you’re sitting in the room with the only five werewolves you’re probably ever going to see for the rest of your life.”
Erin shook her head, her expression making it obvious she was ready to deny everything Caleb said, but Sawyer cut her off.
“Erin, stop,” he said, his voice firm and impossible to ignore. “Harley didn’t turn me. I was a werewolf long before we ever ran into STAT.”
Erin and Elliot looked stunned, like they’d been punched in the gut. Rory still seemed more hurt than anything else. Was he more upset Sawyer was a werewolf or that he hadn’t told them?
“That’s pure rubbish,” Erin insisted. “We’re your teammates. I’d think we’d know if you were a sodding monster.”
Sawyer went completely still, and for a moment, Harley wasn’t sure if he’d get up and walk out. She wouldn’t blame him if he did.
“I’ve been a werewolf for more than four years,” he finally said, his voice so soft even Harley had to strain to hear it. “I turned during the shootout in Odessa. After the rest of you dumped me in that hospital and bailed, I coded out three times on the operating room table. I would have died if I hadn’t gone through the change. Being a werewolf was in my blood all along, simply waiting for the right event to bring it out.”
Harley hated that Sawyer’s teammates were forcing him to admit all of this. But even more, she hated that he had to relive the pain of that night all over again. It was clear now he’d been lying when he said being left behind by his teammates hadn’t bothered him. The agony in his eyes made her want to cry—or tear something apart.
“What do you mean, it was in your blood?” Erin asked.
“We call it the werewolf gene,” Harley said, trying to keep her voice calm as she filled the silence. “If we go through something painful and traumatic, we turn. It doesn’t have anything to do with getting bitten or being a monster. It’s genetic.”
Elliott frowned. “None of that explains why you never told us. You should have come to us and explained what happened.”
It was Sawyer’s turn to
