Beauty and the Werewolf (Entangled Covet) (San Francisco Wolf Pack) by Kristin Miller

his wounds was a strange move…
    The duffel bag resting beside the chair must’ve been hers, he realized. Branson must’ve brought her things from the hotel so she’d be comfortable here. He’d have to thank Branson later for taking care of Isabelle.
    “It’s going to take a high-pressure hose to get all the dried blood off you,” she said. “And you’re going to have scars. Not on your face, but here.” She touched his abs, sending pinpricks of delight scattering down to his groin. “And here.”
    And lower…
    With a visible shiver, Isabelle replaced the cloth and folded her arms over her chest. “Care to explain the mental breakdown you had last night?”
    “I don’t recall a breakdown.” But he remembered the adrenaline rush big-time. All it took was stepping into the ring with the largest werewolf in the place. One strike with the force of a hammer, one quick claw to his muzzle, and he’d gotten what he’d been looking for. How long the strength would last this time, he wasn’t certain. “If you’re talking about the fight, it was a way for me to blow off steam.”
    “No, it was more than that. It was suicide.” She plopped into the seat once more and clutched the sketchbook against her. “I nearly had a canary watching you in there.”
    “A canary?” Chuckling, he shook his head. “That must’ve been painful. On account of the beak, and all.”
    “No, a canary, a fright—you know what? It’s not about the way I talk.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “After the fight, you passed out for over an hour. The bouncer had to call Branson to come get you. He and I dragged you to the car and brought you here. You could’ve died from your injuries.”
    She was right. “Why didn’t I?”
    “Branson gave you an epinephrine shot.” Tired lines formed around her eyes. “You woke up startled for a few seconds, long enough to shift back. You collapsed and have been out since then.”
    “Shit.”
    He rubbed his thigh where he was still tender from the needle. He’d given up epinephrine shots years ago, after he’d gotten a skin infection that landed him in the hospital. And he couldn’t get an adrenaline rush while lying in a hospital bed. So in order to avoid the impossible scenario, he’d avoided needles from that day on. He preferred more natural ways to get his high, anyway.
    Getting shot with epinephrine wasn’t always pretty. Neither was the fight. Yet she’d witnessed everything. More than that, she’d followed him to the gym, dragged him out when he was at his weakest, and remained by his bedside until he woke up.
    How could he repay her?
    “What was that?” she asked, penetrating him with those sultry green eyes. “Why would you leave before the end of our date, and hop into a fight with a werewolf ten times—”
    “Wait, did you call it a date?”
    Flustered, she batted her lids and shook her head. “What I was saying was you hopped into a fight with a werewolf ten times bigger than—”
    “No, I heard what you said.” A smile pulled at his lips. “You said before the end of our date.”
    She huffed and slouched into the chair. “Maybe I should’ve left you on the floor in that gym.”
    “I’m glad you didn’t.” Sitting upright against the headboard, he used his heightened sense of hearing to listen for her heartbeat. It was racing. Thumping loud in her rib cage. She might not have known it yet, but it called for him. “Because if you’d left me there, I wouldn’t have seen how radiant you are in the early-morning light.”
    She softened, her head lolling to her shoulder. “You can stop with the flirting. It wasn’t a date. I misspoke. And you seem to think I’ll forget about the question at hand.”
    “Which one is that?”
    “Why’d you shift from this really great guy at Jasmine’s to Muhammad Ali? You ran out like your clothes were on fire. At first I thought you might’ve been offended by something Jasmine said about your attachment to Bella