by Lola Glass
He slipped those giant fingers of his under the bottom hem of the sweatshirt and carefully tried to pull the fabric from my back. I breathed in sharply at the red-hot pain and his thigh tensed under me.
“If I’d realized how badly she hurt you while we were in the forest, I would’ve ended her.” His voice was low and deadly, his thumb gently trailing over the injury-free portion of my lower back. Luckily he spoke quiet enough that no one else could hear because I was already alienated enough.
“Hurt people tend to hurt other people.” It was a line my mom used to explain to her eight-year-old why her father wasn’t around. One I’d learned was a fact when I watched the life drain from my mother’s eyes at the hands of Alpha who’d lost his mind when he lost his mate.
“That’s not an excuse.”
“It’s an explanation.”
“That doesn’t make it right.” His frustration was building.
“No, it doesn’t.” On that, we agreed. “But it doesn’t always mean they need to die either.”
“Most people have a hard time making me angry, Henley. You’ve got a knack for it.”
“Most people must be boring.” I tried to roll off of him and bit back a cry of pain.
That wasn’t happening.
Roman gently rolled me back to my back. I tried not to show my surprise at how well he prevented the movement from hurting me.
“Alpha!” a little kid came running up to Roman. “Can you show us how to fast you shift?” the little guy had bright eyes and an excited smile.
“Sure.” Roman stood. Our eyes met for a long moment. “I’ll be back in ten minutes to disinfect and bandage your back. Wait here and I’ll help you up the stairs too.”
“I’m fine.” I protested. Another lie.
I moved to get up and Roman lifted me to my feet as easily as if I was a stuffed animal. It didn’t hurt even a little.
“Ten minutes.” He warned.
The little boy pulled on Roman’s hand then, and the two of them left. I may or may not have stared at Roman’s ass as he walked away. I’ll admit to nothing.
For a few minutes, I just stood there and people-watched. The crowds had thinned, and based on all the yawning I’d seen I assumed a bunch of the people left to take naps. That sounded great to me too, so I slowly made my way back to the Alpha’s house. Getting up the stairs without Roman would be a real bitch, but I’d survive.
The sound of a knock on my door jerked me out of sleep. My heartbeat quickened, and I clutched the blanket in my fists.
“It’s me.” Roman’s rumbly voice halted my panic.
“Come in.” I lifted my head without moving the rest of me. Roman opened the door and stepped inside, still dirty but holding a grocery bag. “Hi.” He closed the door behind himself.
“I told you to wait for me to help you up.” He said.
“I’m not into following orders.”
The corner of his lips tilted upward.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better. What did you bring?”
Please say stronger painkillers.
“Antibiotic ointment and Band-Aids.” He lifted the grocery bag and came into the room. Between the grocery bag, his dirty sweatpants and baseball cap, and the streaks of dried mud on various parts of his bare chest and back, the dude looked more homeless than wealthy.
Why did I like that so much?
He came over and lifted me off the bed like I was a little kid, flipping on the light with his elbow before setting me down on the counter and putting the bag down by the sink.
“Don’t remember inviting you to manhandle me.” I muttered, wincing as I moved a bit.
Roman inhaled deeply and his eyebrows wrinkled together.
“Are you still bleeding?” He looked concerned.
“I don’t really want to know.”
If I knew, I’d have to acknowledge how bad the injury was. If the options were going to the hospital or letting Roman lick my wounds, I’d have to suck it up and choose the latter. The hospital would ask questions I couldn’t answer and send bills my uninsured ass couldn’t pay.
“We need to get this off.” When Roman gestured to my sweatshirt, I grimaced. Not only was it crusted to my skin, but I was still braless. Being half-naked in a room with Roman didn’t sound like the safest plan if I wanted to avoid mating.
“No thanks.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“Yeah, because I’m not taking it off.” I was ready to go to war over this.
Roman leaned toward me.
“I smell fresh blood, Hen. If you’re still bleeding you probably won’t stop, so one way or another I’m getting this sweatshirt off of you.”
His arms moved to rest on either side of me, our chests barely an inch apart.
I didn’t let myself breathe deeply.
“Get me a towel.” I said, lifting my hand to give his chest a little push. He didn’t move away from me, but reached over to the hook on the wall and tugged one of the towels off. When he handed it to me, I held it to my lap.
“Are you comfortable with me helping you myself or should I call Arla?” he checked. The fact that he’d asked made me feel all warm and weird.
Worry that she was with Lilac or judging me for my fight over Roman had me saying,
“Don’t call Arla.”
Roman helped me turn so I faced the mirror, giving him better access to my back. His fingers were soft and careful as he began pulling the sweater away from my injuries.
“Does that hurt?”
“It’s fine.” My hands clenched and my eyes shut tightly. “I shouldn’t have put anything on.”
“You didn’t have much of a choice. If you’d come out of my house topless, I’d have killed the male half of my pack.”
I only half-believed him.
Another gentle tug of the fabric had me wheezing,
“Holy shit. Distract me.”
“How many guys have you kissed?” He asked.
That was his way to distract me? Seriously?
“New distraction.” I changed the subject. No need to rehash our pasts. Particularly because the answer would make him want to kill things.
“Answer the question.” His tugging at the fabric made me want to kill things.
“It doesn’t matter.” I snapped.
“It does.”
“Fine. I’ve kissed six guys, but I was only willing and eager for two of them.” I glared at the Alpha in the mirror as he hid his emotions fairly well. “Why? Does that make me less pure or some shit? Regret announcing your interest to the pack already?”
Roman let go of my sweatshirt and slid up onto the countertop, his legs facing the opposite direction of mine so our eyes met. I waited for him to yell at me.
“I’m trying to get to know you.” He said it so calmly it threw me off-kilter.
“Then stop.”
“Not happening.” He caught my hand off the counter and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to my wonky knuckles. “I’ll win you over eventually.”
Why the hell did a kiss to my fingers turn me on so much?
“You have issues.” I shut my eyes and gritted my teeth again as he went back to work on the fabric. He finished tugging the sweatshirt off my wounds and then eased it off my arms and over my head. I pulled the towel over my chest so I wasn’t sitting there entirely topless.
Roman lifted my braid away from my back and his eyes raked over my injuries. He slid the braid over my shoulder, and the grocery bag ruffled.
“It might sting.”
His fingers brushed the gel-like substance onto my wounds. Surprisingly enough, it didn’t hurt at all. The light pressure of his giant fingers was sort of nice. When he was done, he capped the tube and grabbed the bandages. I missed the contact immediately.
“You should probably have a doctor look at this.” He told me.
“And tell him that I got in a fight with a wolf?”
“We’ve got a surgeo
n in the pack. He’s a good guy, Takes care of our people when they’re seriously injured, and is usually willing to give medical advice.”
“Why didn’t you start with that?”
Roman’s poker face was strong. I struggled to come up with a reason he wouldn’t want me to meet the doctor, and then it hit me.
“He’s not mated.”
Yeah, Roman’s grudging expression told me that was definitely it. I rolled my eyes.
“He can keep it in his pants long enough to make sure I don’t need stitches. Hold off on the bandages and call him.”
Though he didn’t look thrilled about it, Roman left me on the counter and went outside to call the doctor. A few minutes later, he came back in with a Grey’s-Anatomy-level doctor—attractive and young with great hair. Roman scowled at me, probably noticing the way I’d checked out the doctor. Who, I realized, was staring at me with a stunned expression on his face that far outweighed my own slight interest.
“Henley, this is Grant Parsen.” Roman crossed the bathroom to stand beside me, eyeing the doctor with suspicion. “Grant, this is Henley Clark.”
“Hello.” Grant’s gaze was intense as he held out his hand. Did I want to shake it? Not at all. But he was my best chance at getting my back fixed without letting Roman heal me, so a handshake was a worthwhile sacrifice.
“I know I smell weird. Try breathing through your mouth.” I recommended as I shook his hand. He held on longer than was normal, and I pulled my fingers from his grip.
Roman made a noise of disagreement and Grant’s face morphed into a dazzling smile.
“There are many words to describe your scent, but weird is not one of them. You smell like everything I never knew I wanted.”
Holy flowery compliment, Batman.
I’d rather be gagged with a toothpick than try to respond to that. Unfortunately, there wasn’t one around.
Roman stepped closer to me, his hand landing on my thigh as he shot Grant a look that practically dared him to hit on me again. After he’d announced to the pack that he was chasing me, it was pretty surprising that Grant was willing to declare his interest so openly. Males were territorial bastards, and Alphas were worse than most males.
I’d have pushed his hand off my thigh if Grant hadn’t been there. But letting Roman mark me as his territory could prevent the doctor from doing something I’d have to punch him in the face for, so I left it.
“My back looks pretty bad.” I changed the subject, trying to get him out of there as fast as possible.
“Let me see.” Grant leaned his face so close the tip of his nose literally touched my wounds, and I jumped a bit. Roman’s fingers dug into my thigh and he growled, his tone warning the doctor. I shot him a warning look of his own in the mirror.
“You definitely need stitches.” Grant announced, straightening but not stepping away from me. His close proximity was crazy uncomfortable. “Unless you’ll let me lick your wounds.”
“Stitches it is.” I said.
If someone was licking my wounds, it sure as hell wasn’t him.
“Hmm.” Grant ran his finger down my spine. I jumped away again, further this time. The movement hurt but I’d take pain over uninvited touching.
“Don’t—“
“If you touch her again you’ll leave here in a body bag.” Roman interrupted my request that he not touch me. His eyes were wolfy and there was a gravel to his voice that said he was close to shifting. The doctor acted as if the Alpha hadn’t said a thing.
“I’ll be back with my medical kit.” Grant gave me a smile that was probably supposed to be calming, but the dude had started to creep me out so it had the opposite effect. He left me and Roman alone in the bathroom, and Roman snarled.
“Grant will attack you if he catches the scent of your blood. He’s barely managing to stay human.”
“I’m still bleeding, remember? He’s already smelled my blood. It’ll be fine. It’s not like we have another option.”
“Let me lick your wounds.” Roman’s eyes burned into me. “Stitches will take weeks, if not months to heal. I can take care of you right now.”
“I’m getting the stitches.” I adjusted the towel covering my chest. “If it bothers you too much to be in here while Grant is, you can leave. I’m sure Arla or one of the female enforcers have a few minutes to sit with me.”
His jaw clenched.
“I’m ready.” Grant announced, coming back inside the bathroom before Roman had a chance to respond.
I noticed Roman’s eyes had shifted again and realized there was a slight chance he could be right. And if Grant did lose control somehow and wolfed out in my bathroom, we’d have serious issues. To be safe, I said,
“Let’s do it in the kitchen. I’d rather sit in a chair.”
“Good call.” Grant nodded his approval, pride emanating from the man.
I was officially disgusted with him.
Roman lifted me off the counter and hauled me down the stairs, careful not to jostle me. All signs of his anger were gone, replaced with a stiff expression and a clenched jaw.
Was he nervous?
Arla, Jamie, and London were all in the kitchen washing dishes when Roman and I finally made it there. I’m sure we were quite the sight. Roman lifting me like a doll, me topless beside the towel keeping me modest, and Grant hauling his big-ass doctor bag.
“What’s going on?” Arla looked between us.
“He’s giving me stitches,” I gestured to the doctor, and then to Roman. “He’s the moral support.”
Arla shot a questioning look at her brother, whose stony expression gave nothing away.
Roman set me down on a barstool and I leaned forward, wincing as the movement felt like it was tearing my skin even with the stuff Roman put on it. One of my arms held up my towel, the other rested on the cold granite countertop.
Grant chatted with the Alpha female and her enforcers while he got his supplies out. My eyes met Roman’s again, the blue orbs as dark as I’d ever seen them before. I got the feeling he was worried, though the emotion didn’t seem to fit the big bad wolf.
“I have to clean your injuries. It’s going to hurt.” Grant warned only a moment before searing pain assaulted me. My vision blurred, and I began to sway. Roman snapped something, and Grant snapped back.
A small, soft hand took one of mine and squeezed.
“We’ve got you.” Jamie promised as London grabbed my other hand. My teeth clenched but I tried to smile anyway. I’m sure it was adorable.
“Alright, I’m ready to start stitching. What kind of alcohol are you going to numb yourself with?”
“I don’t drink with other people.” My eyes stayed shut tight. That was a personal rule of mine I’d instated after getting drunk in Kyler’s nightclub and being such a bitch to one of the other bartenders that he’d filed a restraining order.
“You’ll want to make an exception for this.” The doctor warned.
“Just do it.”
I waited for the pain.
With a heavy sigh, he warned Arla and Jamie to hold me down and reached for his tools. I assumed it was a needle but didn’t want to see what would be sewing my skin together.
The first stitch was the worst pain I’d ever felt, but the second quickly outdid it. Three stitches in, I was about to stop Grant and beg for vodka but he paused.
“Back up.” Roman’s voice was deadly.
“What’s wrong?” I demanded, teeth clenched and eyes squeezed shut.
“He’s struggling not to shift.” One of the girls said.
My head spun.
“I’m fine.” Grant cleared his throat. It was thick with his wolf.
The entourage argued for a minute before the needle broke my skin once more. It stopped again just before the sound of a tool clanging on the ground. The thin, curved side of the needle collided painlessly with my lower back.
A crash sounded behind me and I nearly fell off as I turned my chair. Jamie and London kept me upright.
“Submit.” Roman demanded, pinning the wolf to the floor with brute strength. Grant shifted back into a man for just long enough to yell,
“She’s mine.” And then he shifted back, snapping at the Alpha.
Roman’s elbow came around and whipped him in the nose. Grant’s wolf head snapped backward and then rolled from one side to the other as he attempted to regain his bearings.
With the wolf subdued for a moment, Roman tossed the furry beast over his shoulder and charged out the back door, slamming it behind him. The house shook with the impact. Arla hauled out of the house behind her brother.
I tried to get off the chair, and the girls caught me before I could face-plant. I wobbled a bit and the needle swung away from my skin before making its way back to hit me lightly. When I realized it was still hanging off my back, nausea rolled through me. I lunged for the sink just in time to puke out the contents of my stomach.
Jamie snipped the needle from whatever it hung off while London held my braid away from my torn skin.
“What happened?” I slid down the cabinets, fighting not to pass out as I sat on the floor.
“Grant lost control when he smelled your blood. I think the stuff he cleaned off before trying to stitch you had been blocking the scent.” Jamie said.
“None of the other guys have lost control because of my scent.” I protested weakly. “None of them even followed me while I was in wolf form last night.”
The girls were silent, so I lifted my head to see them locked in what looked like a silent argument.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Roman fought two guys who followed you last night. The other twenty-eight ran away after watching.” London spilled the beans. “He’s had to subdue nine others who went into a frenzy the first time they caught your scent, and at least fifty besides them have come to him asking to meet you. None have gotten permission, obviously.”