Page 13 of Rival Love

“You were right,” I said. “You’re healing.”

Rising to his feet, Archer turned to face me, letting the shower water hit his back. “I’m not doing anything. It’s you.” He cupped my cheek. “My Alpha wife.”

Being Vince’s wife had never, ever felt like this. As if I’d been awarded the greatest prize in the history of prizes.

As if I’d been handed a love that was true and eternal. One that would never betray me.

I reached for a bottle of foaming soap behind Archer and took one pump into my hand. Slicking the soap over both of my palms, I wrapped one hand around Archer’s erection while the other massaged his balls.

Archer’s eyes closed, and he instinctively thrust himself into my hands while his lips consumed mine again. His kisses were full of promises and vows. Ones I knew he would always uphold as long as there was breath in his lungs.

I had great fun driving him mad with my hands on him, but when he wrapped his strong arms around me and lifted me onto his length, I finally understood what fun really was. He filled me completely, stroking every single spot that needed stroking and some mystery bonus spots I didn’t even know I had.

Alphas are notoriously good lovers, but this? Shit, this was like sending my body on a thrill ride that got my adrenaline pumping. Strangely, it was also like setting me adrift on a tranquil sea at sunset. I liked both feelings in equal measure.

Pressure built up between us as we rocked each other to earth-shattering orgasms. Tremors rippled through me, bringing as much pleasure as the initial blast.

I rested my forehead on Archer’s shoulder, both of our chests heaving, our hearts beating wildly. “That was . . .” I didn’t have the right words.

“It was.” Archer released my legs, and I slid off him in one slow glide that pulled moans from both of us.

“How are you feeling?” I studied his face, noting his sated gaze, flushed cheeks, and kiss-plumped lips.

“Fucking amazing.” He flashed me a smile, revealing a dimple in his right cheek almost invisible under his short beard.

I pressed my finger into it then kissed him. “Me too.” I took his hands in mine and surveyed his wrists. The gouges there didn’t look as deep anymore, but they were still red and angry. “We should get some aloe vera or turmeric on these wounds and cover them.”

“Is my mate a little witchy with herb magic for healing wounds?” Archer tugged on the end of my wet hair, a grin tilting up his lips.

“Maybe. That shit works on humans. We don’t usually need such treatments, but you could use all the help you can get with these injuries.”

“I think you’re the only help I need.” Archer grabbed a dab of shampoo and washed my hair, his fingers giving me one hell of a massage as he lathered, rinsed, and repeated.

I did the same to him—after he leaned down so I could reach—then after a final rinse, Archer shut off the water and led me over to shelves where towels were neatly stacked. He stood there dripping while he wiped me down, and that told me so much about the type of man—and wolf—he was.

After we were both dry, I made a move to shrug back into my stolen clothes, but Archer chose a pair of gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt from a stash of clothes for me.

“My mate—my wife—doesn’t wear clothes she had to steal because some dick didn’t know how to appreciate her.” He shook his head then took a pair of matching gray sweatpants for himself, foregoing the T-shirt so we could give his back the attention it still needed.

I put on the clothes he’d given me and braided my wet hair. Before we left the rec area, Archer pressed me against the door and gave me a kiss that effectively scrambled my brain.

“I’m not going to ever get tired of doing that.” He opened the door and stepped out.

Even my scrambled brain knew it was a good idea to follow him.

Chapter Eight

Archer

Physically, I should have been ready to sleep for a few days. I’d lost my father and had my ass kicked in the span of a handful of hours, but after being with Selena, I felt as if I had all the energy in the world.

Yes, my back and wrists stung, but those wounds were healing. As I led Selena back toward the pool table, I tried to shift, knowing the sweats I’d put on would be toast, but I couldn’t shift yet. It’d probably take some time for the silver to leave my system.

“I can see it,” Selena said behind me.

I stopped walking and turned to face her. “See what?”

“The silver. It’s like . . . glistening in those back wounds.” She shuddered. “How much pain are you in?”