Motor City Wolf by Cindy Spencer Pape Page A

holding her close. Somehow it felt horrible to let him down in front of his family by looking like a mess.
    “Sssh.” Greg kissed her hair. “You’re in shock. Worrying about trivial details is a normal reaction, but try not to. You’re okay, and that’s all that matters.”
    “We can fix our hair and makeup, Fee.” Lana’s voice sounded shaky, too, making Fianna feel less like an idiot. “I think both of our manicures are toast, though. At least you didn’t trash yours by sprouting claws.”
    Sometimes Fianna almost forgot Lana was a werewolf, who tended to change under stress. She did suppose that growing claws would destroy the other woman’s nail polish.
    “Women,” Des grunted. “Wait until I’m done healing your asses, and I’ll see how much magic I have left.”
    “Don’t waste your time on me.” Lana bristled like an angry cat. “I’ll be fine in an hour or so. Just fix Fee’s face and hands.”
    “I’ll get there. Now hold still.”
    Crying jag past, Fianna dried her eyes with the back of her hand and looked over to see Des wipe Lana’s palms with a pad soaked in alcohol. Lana swore viciously, but remained perfectly still.
    “Okay, princess, your turn.” Edging away from her so he could work, Greg took a similar pad and held it up to her cheek. “This is going to sting.”
    “It’s all right.” The sharp bite of the antiseptic did hurt, but Fianna bit her lip and didn’t move or make a sound as he cleaned the wound. She’d been trained at an early age to remain silent and still no matter what amount of punishment her uncle doled out.
    This was different, though. She could sense the concern in Greg’s touch as well as the contained anger that vibrated through his taut body. After he finished with her cheek, he gently blew on the skin to cool the sting. The sweetness of the gesture brought fresh tears to Fianna’s eyes. No one had ever cared for her like this before. She blinked back the wetness as he began to peel back her fingers to reveal the scrapes on her palms. He took a fresh pad and began to wipe away the grit and gravel.
    When Greg finished scrubbing her hands, he dropped a kiss onto each and moved behind her. Desmond stepped over and took hold of her throbbing left wrist. Soon the ache receded and fresh pink skin replaced the angry gouges on her palm. He touched her cheek and the pain there vanished, as well.
    She couldn’t help the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Once she could have done such minor magic for herself. Sometimes she forgot how that had felt, but at other times, like now, she missed that part of her being so much it hurt.
    “Now this we’ll call an engagement present.” Des whispered a short incantation and Fianna’s manicure was once again perfect, her broken nails mended and returned to their glossy pale pink.
    Fianna’s head was level with the tall mage’s stomach, but she hugged him anyway, fighting more tears as she offered her thanks.
    “Ooh, your hair is back up, too.” Lana gave Des a grudging nod. “That was a nice thing to do. Thanks.”
    He shrugged. “I have a sister. I know that stuff matters when you want to make an impression. What the hell is with the purple stripe?”
    “Like it’s any of your business.” Lana tossed her messy hair. She tried to stand and wobbled precariously before Des took two steps to her side and caught her. “Oh, hell. I need to go somewhere and shift a couple times if this hip is going to work in time for dinner. Don’t suppose one of you big macho males can help me up the stairs?”
    Muttering something incomprehensible, Desmond swept her up into his arms. “I’ll see you tonight, Greg. Call me.” With that, he left the room carrying a startled Lana.
    “We’re going back outside,” Jensen said. “Let us know when anyone’s leaving the building and we’ll escort you.”
    Greg nodded and the two guards left. Fianna sat up straighter in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m