by M. L. Briers
“How’s the wolf he attacked?” Gemma asked and Landon nodded.
“He’s recovering with Connor’s blood…”
“Why would he do that?” Gracie scowled at the thought of it.
“It’s not easy to hear, Gracie, but he has a death wish.” Gemma offered and Gracie spun towards her.
“Me or death…” she weighed that thought up in her hands. “Death or me… yeah, I could understand why he chose…”
“Now don’t go getting all salty, woman.” Landon bit out. “It’s not you. It’s because he doesn’t want to hurt you. Fears hurting you more than anything in this world that he wants to go to the next.” He growled and Gracie tossed up her hands and dropped her backside to the couch.
“I just want to see the pig headed butt munch.” She bit out and then grimaced.
“Strong words.” Gemma teased, trying to rally her spirits.
“Yeah, well. Thick headed bear deserves everything he gets from me. I have a good mind to zap him until he squeals like a little girly cub.” She grumbled and Landon couldn’t help but smile.
“I hope to hell you do when we find him.” Landon chuckled at the thought of that big old mean bear shifter squealing like a female. “Kind of want you to promise that you will. That’s all the incentive I need to hunt that man forever and a day.”
“I promise.” Gracie rushed out, jumping to her feet and bouncing like Tigger on steroids.
“Deal.” Landon grinned.
“Oh, you betcha!” Gracie bit back.
And she would too. She’d never welched on a deal. She was going to zap that damn shifter a good one when they finally found him… and right then and there – she thought she just might enjoy doing it.
The End.