Maisie
An hour later, I was sitting on the couch, alternating between wiping the blood off Mercer's left eye and Soren's busted lip. The smell of alcohol on the cotton was as strong as the scent wafting off me in waves.
After nearly tearing down the house, I figured they could clean up after themselves, but I felt oddly protective of them and cleaning their wounds gave me something else to focus on, other than the lust overriding my senses.
Quinlan sighed. "Perhaps I should've joined in the fight, just so you can dote on me like that. Look at you. The very picture of a loving wife."
I shot him a glare, but returned my attention back to the gash on Soren's forehead. There was a piece of glass sticking in there. I shook my head. "So, if I am to understand this ruckus, you're saying that Margaret Hunt extended you an offer, and her terms were my getting mated to her sons?"
