The moment we stepped into the clinic, I felt the weight of every pack member's stare. Kaelen's hand rested possessively on the small of my back, guiding me through the door. His touch, neither harsh nor gentle, burned through the thin fabric of my shirt.
"Sit," he commanded, pointing to the examination table.
I did as told, watching him rummage through cabinets for supplies. The bruise on my cheek throbbed dully, a reminder of Logan's anger. It wasn't the worst pain I'd endured, not by far, but something about this particular injury had unleashed Kaelen's fury unlike anything I'd seen in years.
"Hold still," Kaelen muttered, approaching with a cold compress.
His fingers brushed my jawline as he applied the compress to my cheek. I winced slightly at the cold sensation.
"Does it hurt?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.
"No," I lied.
Kaelen's eyes narrowed. "Don't lie to me, Seraphina."
"Fine. Yes, it hurts. Happy now?" I snapped, my patience worn thin.
