Free Curves & Courage by Christin Lovell

the room. “Is there a room we can use to offer her a bit of privacy?”
    Without thinking, I offered mine. “My room is this way.” I focused on Sophie. “Come on, sweetie.”
    Her tears were staying in the basins of her eyes, but seemed ready to spill over any second. The sight of her, so bruised and broken, sent my wolf scrapping, my blood pressure soaring and had my vehemence bubbling too close to my surface.
    I extend ed a hand towards her. I damn near cheered when she took it without reluctance.
    I brought our conjoined hands to my lips. Kissing her knuckles, I smiled down at her and gave her a wink.
    She blushed, and damn if my heart didn’t skitter.
    I led them down the hall to my room. It was just my dad and I so we’d taken a two-bedroom unit, saving the larger ones for the bigger families in our pack.
    Like the rest of the house, my room was minimally furnished: my bed, a nightstand, dresser and desk. No pictures, no paint; no fluff.
    Dr. Charles shut the door and set his bag on my desk.
    Sophie’s hand began to shake. She swallowed hard. Her eyes widened a bit as her brows drew inwards. She was scared of a doctor?
    He was well over six foot with dark skin, dark features and a professional disposition. Glancing back at her neck, it dawned on me. Based off the handprint, her dad was obviously a large man too.
    I leaned into her. “Want me to stay?” I kept my voice at a whisper.
    It was the smallest of replies, a tiny nod of her head, almost imperceptible. She met my gaze, the tears having disappeared. “Please. I…” She struggled to say the words. “I trust you.”
    Damn if her admittance didn’t ignite a new spark within me. I was suddenly impenetrable. No one could have gotten through me and gained access to her in that moment. She gave me all the confidence I needed to defend her to the death.
    “I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut your jacket off of you. Do you have another one?” Dr. Charles moved in towards Sophie.
    She avoided looking at us. “Um, no. I don’t.” Her voice was so small.
    “We’ll get you a new one,” I said, squeezing her hand before releasing it.
    She opened her mouth to deny me, I saw the refusal in her eyes, but the doctor swooped in and began cutting the fabric away from her , starting from the bottom and working his way up. Once he reached her neck he set the scissors aside. Gently, he worked the pull over jacket off her good arm.
    I took deep breaths, neutralizing my expression, as small, jagged cuts and bruises were exposed on her arm.
    “Don’t move your arm, Sophie. I’ll slide the jacket off of you as carefully as possible, okay?” Dr. Charles moved around her body, peeling the jacket away from her back and stopping when he reached her front again. He waited for her reply before proceeding.
    “Okay.”
    As the doctor lifted the hoodie away from her body and over her arm, I was forced to take a step back. My wolf growled, the sound erupting from me and echoing in the suddenly small room.
    I heard her breath hitch as the doctor dropped the jacket onto the desk beside his bag.
    Rage didn’t even begin to describe what shot through me. She was the only one keeping me there in that moment. She was the reason I didn’t unleash every ounce of wrath exploding through me, igniting a drive to kill lethally, illegally.
    My vision blurred. My wolf was fighting hard, taking the battle to my surface as flickers of what could have caused the violent cuts, irate bubbling bruises and galling wounds covering her right side. Dry blood had once soaked her shirt, causing it to cling to her generous curves. Her forearm was just… FUCK!
    “Dominick!” She screamed, fear vivid in her tone.
    The door flew open. A hazy outline of my dad appeared before me. Shit! I was changing and didn’t even sense it. Dammit!
    My muscles quaked; the snap of my bones unleashed condensed combustions of pain over my ligaments.
    A harsh growl emanated from my father, suppressing my wolf.