by Alex Kidwell
This was infinitely worse. If he’d bitten any harder he would have ripped Jed’s arm off.
It looked like Jed was wearing a red glove, his entire arm bathed in it, the wound a gaping bite on his forearm. Jed was moving like he didn’t feel it, grabbing his weapons, shell casings, cleaning up the scene. “Get in the van, Red,” Jed said quietly. He was checking the bodies for ID. “I’ll be right there.”
Redford didn’t know what to do. He wanted to prowl the woods and hope to find something else to attack. He wanted to lie on Jed’s feet and beg him for forgiveness. He wanted to guiltily slink off and hope they wouldn’t talk about it. None of those options was going to help, so he wound up going for the practical choice. He shifted, the change feeling easier when the wolf instincts were so close at hand, and retrieved Jed’s bag.
Jed’s good hand was immediately cupping his jaw, the worry that pinched at Jed’s face almost unbearable. “Jesus, babe. You didn’t have to turn back here. Are you okay? You—”
“Don’t.” The snarl was ripped from Redford’s throat, so harsh it was painful. Jed immediately stumbled back, eyes widening. With angry movements, Redford dug through the bag, going for the medical kit. His heart pounded again with that frenzy, but now it was directed inward too. “Don’t ask if I’m okay, Jed. Don’t you dare do that now, when I nearly ripped your fucking arm off!”
Jed looked stunned as he stood, bathed in the barest light of dawn, bleeding and dirty. He was cradling his arm to his stomach, absently holding it close, staring at Redford like he didn’t know what to say. “It doesn’t matter,” he started, shaking his head, concern curving his lips downward. There were bodies strewn around them, one of them that Redford had put there, Jed’s arm bearing Redford’s teeth marks, and Jed didn’t appear angry. He just looked so lost. “I’m okay. Just… are you…. Shit, I mean, I should get you back, right? You need….”
Redford had never heard Jed so hesitant.
He didn’t reply. It would be more accurate to say that he couldn’t reply. He felt some of his conscious mind start to return to him, but it was weak, only what he needed to be aware enough to help Jed. Nothing else was important.
In a daze, Redford got what he needed out of the first aid kit and walked the short distance to the van to give the rest to the wolves inside so they could start patching themselves up. When he returned to Jed, he still couldn’t speak. He just gently took him by his uninjured arm and led him to the nearby river.
Blood was still flowing freely enough, but Redford could smell the high copper tang of it start to muddle into old as it clotted. Jed’s skin was pale, dark circles under his eyes. Not dangerous levels of blood loss, not yet, but he was clearly beginning to feel the pain.
Redford wrapped a towel around Jed’s arm, attempting to stop the bleeding for the moment. Tending to this couldn’t wait, not even the half hour it would take to get back.
He’d done this. He’d given Jed an injury so severe it needed immediate treatment.
“We can’t do this now,” Jed was telling him, voice soft but remote, that clinical tone he got when he was on a job. But Redford wasn’t listening. There was a hunter not far from them who was still alive but unconscious. His breath was rattling wetly in his lungs, every gasp of air a tortured struggle, and every exhale carried with it a short groan of pain.
Redford couldn’t find it within himself to care. Got what he deserved, his wolf snarled in triumph.
Jed’s voice filtered back into his hearing. “Flannel shirt número cinco over there is going to wake up soon, and we need to be long gone. There’ll be a cleaning crew that comes out here. I got enough information to start tracking down these sons of bitches, but we have to go.”
Redford just kept holding the towel around his arm. “Do we need that hunter alive?”
“I already got what he knows.” Jed shrugged, wincing slightly as he moved his arm. “It wasn’t much.”
“Okay.” Redford nodded. He looked away from Jed’s arm to the hunter, the sound of his pained breathing seeming to grow louder. The hunter was useless now, nothing but dead meat.
But he was the reason Jed was insisting they leave before treating his wound. If he lived, he would continue to be a threat to Jed. Redford couldn’t let that happen. He could not just sit by and let someone live when they endangered his pack.
Redford reached into Jed’s shoulder holster, withdrew his gun, aimed carefully, and shot the hunter in the head.
The part of him that was still human started weeping, but Redford didn’t have time to listen to it.
“What the fuck!” Jed’s reaction had been too slow to stop him. He grabbed the gun out of Redford’s hand. A thousand emotions seemed to flicker across Jed’s face. Strangely, the one he settled on was guilt. Randall was running toward the hunter, shifting in midstride, skidding down to his knees before Jed could pull away. After a moment, he stood, looking over at Anthony and shaking his head grimly.
If Jed wanted to go to the hunter, Redford didn’t let him. Flushed with satisfaction and the knowledge he was keeping Jed safe, he just dipped another towel in the river, making sure he kept it clean of the silt at the bottom. He removed the now-bloody towel from Jed’s arm and started cleaning the drying blood off as best he could.
It was curiously hard work. His vision was blurry, and he was starting to feel a little short of breath. There was an odd warmth on his cheeks, but Redford didn’t have the time to worry about that. Someone was making a strange, hitched sobbing noise. Was that Jed? It didn’t sound like Jed.
“Redford,” Jed barked urgently, grabbing Redford by the shoulder and shaking him. “Stop, babe, please. Please. Look at me. Baby, please, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”
Redford just shook his head. He had no clue what Jed was apologizing for. Redford had killed the hunter and eliminated the threat. There was nothing left to worry about right now. “Hold still. I need to stitch you up.”
“Stop fucking taking care of me.” Jed’s voice was like a whip. “Jesus….” Jed’s good arm folded around Redford, Jed seemingly not caring at all about his injuries. He just grabbed hold of Redford, hauling him in tight, whispering again and again, “I’m so sorry.”
It didn’t make sense. Jed had nothing to say sorry for, and Redford should tell him that. But all he could do was go limp in the circle of Jed’s embrace, his cheek pushed hard against Jed’s chest. The instincts retreated a little, content and reassured of Jed’s safety, and that minor retreat was just enough of a crack in the wall for Redford’s humanity to break through.
That horrible sobbing noise was him.
He’d hurt Jed. He’d killed two humans.
He was lifted into Jed’s arms, despite the pain Jed must have been feeling. Redford was only vaguely aware of being carried to the van, of Jed carefully climbing inside, Victor driving them out of the forest.
Jed didn’t stop talking. His voice was so quiet it was barely more than a whisper murmured into Redford’s ear. He apologized so many times, his voice breaking with every one. He told Redford he loved him until the words slurred together into a never-ending stream. Jed’s injured arm was taken by Anthony so he could work to bind up the wound as best he could in the moving van with wolves pressed in so tight there was barely room to breathe. Jed never let go of Redford, though, not once during the whole trip.
The drive back was a lot more gentle than the way there. Victor, as opposed to Jed’s more combative methods, seemed to prefer driving around the trees instead of blasting through them. Redford vaguely noticed Anthony tending to Randall. Redford was on Jed’s lap, and he wondered if he should be embarrassed about the fact that he was naked.
Someone opened a window. The fresh air did a little to boot Redford’s brain into working properly, and by the time the van was trundling through the main gates of the pack compound, his thoughts were starting to get back in order.
When they stopped, Jed jerked open his door and climbed out, Redford still held tightly. When
their feet hit the ground, Redford was already in the middle of changing back to wolf, noting all of the people gathered around. Furry was a lot better than naked right then, and he barely even noticed the usual pain of the shift. Jed let him gently down, though he kept one hand in Redford’s fur, which Redford was glad for. Neither of them wanted to break the connection.
“Everyone with me. Now.” Jed strode across the camp, wolves trailing behind him like an army, Victor bringing up the rear. The door to the Gray Lady’s cabin was unceremoniously kicked in. Her guardian wolves growled, but Jed bared his teeth and growled right back.
“Do you mind?” The Gray Lady was at her long table, several wolves with her. “We’re in the middle—”
“Shut the fuck up.” Jed was bloodstained and fierce-looking, anger radiating from every word, seemingly more wolflike than any of the actual wolves standing close. “You’re in the middle of a war is what this is. And you don’t get to press a dainty hand to your nose and ignore the goddamn stink. So this is how this is going to go. I am going to find the sons of bitches who are hunting you, and then you and I are going to find a way for your pack to stay alive.”
The Gray Lady blinked at him, obviously torn between showing her own teeth and agreeing. In the end, her eyes went to the cluster of new wolves from the smaller pack, the injured and the young, and she nodded. “Very well,” she said, raising her chin. “We will talk. Later.”
“And I’m staying in a goddamn cabin,” Jed rumbled as he turned, stalking back out of the building. “I’ll stay in every damn cabin you’ve got. If you don’t like it you can kiss my human ass.”
At the doorway, the group dispersed. The wolves from the smaller pack were taken by members of the Gray Lady’s in the direction of the medical house. Anthony cast a look at Jed and Redford, concerned. “I’m going to take Randall and Ed to get some proper treatment. You should come with us. I’m not the best at stitching, especially not in a moving vehicle, so all you’ve got is a bandage. You need more care than that.”
“I don’t want any voodoo herb smusher to touch my goddamn arm,” Jed bit out. “I’m fine. We’re fucking fine.”
“Yes, we can see that.” Randall was still heavily favoring one leg, the gash more visible now that there wasn’t fur covering his upper leg. Victor was at his side, giving Randall an arm to lean on. “Anthony, you need to get looked at as well.”
“Yeah, we’re going.” Anthony looked back at Jed again, like he wanted to insist Jed get properly treated, but he shook his head. Redford almost smiled to himself. Even Anthony had realized it was difficult to out-stubborn Jed. “Jed, just please get some attention if you feel like you need it. Victor’s right, this isn’t the time to be macho.”
“This ain’t my first rodeo, sunshine.” Jed’s hand had fallen again to rest on the nape of Redford’s neck, fingers buried in his fur. “I’ve had scratches worse than this shaving.”
“You think anybody’s buying that tough talk?” Anthony huffed a near-silent laugh. But he was watching Jed with admiration starting to dawn in his eyes now that the adrenaline was dying down. “Thank you, Jed. For what you did. That pack wouldn’t be alive without you.”
Visibly uncomfortable with the gratitude, Jed cleared his throat. “Yeah, well. Good talk. And, uh, nice job out there. You aren’t half bad to have around, even if I do probably have fleas now.”
Edwin nudged his head against Redford before he started pushing at Victor’s legs, encouraging him to start walking with Randall. The slash across the bottom of his muzzle gave Edwin a vaguely rakish air. He didn’t appear all that traumatized by his first encounter with violence.
Redford envied him. So much was going on around him, there was so much to talk about, and he could scarcely think about any of it.
If Jed wasn’t going to see the proper healers, then Redford would have to take care of him himself. He started to go for his usual tactic—gripping the bottom hem of Jed’s jeans in his teeth to drag him in the right direction—but the second his teeth got shown, Jed flinched, and Redford drew back, ears down and tail between his legs.
He’d have to settle for just walking next to Jed, then. It was only right, Redford figured. Of course Jed didn’t want Redford’s teeth anywhere near him. Redford didn’t want to make Jed react like that ever again. Still, he had to get Jed back to the cabin, so he went for a small nudge of his nose against Jed’s ankle.
Knievel was waiting for them, curled up in the middle of the bed. She cracked an eye open when they walked in, deciding that it was worth leaving her cozy blankets to come and curl herself around Redford’s legs. Redford, having expected Knievel to claw at his nose in revenge for what he’d done to Jed, relaxed slightly, and was faced with the odd situation of trying to pat their cat while he was lacking opposable thumbs.
Jed immediately tugged off his shirt, going into the bathroom to examine Anthony’s handiwork. Apparently he was satisfied, because he just kicked off his shoes and collapsed facedown onto the bed. Knievel immediately abandoned Redford to hop up and requisition Jed’s back as her new bed, kneading against his shoulder before she curled up and yawned her way back to sleep.
“Get up here,” Jed told Redford, voice hoarse and rough.
Guiltily, Redford wondered if he should, if he even had the right anymore. When they’d first started to fall for each other and Redford had told Jed about his grandmother, Jed hadn’t been happy. He’d yelled, called her an evil, abusing bitch, announced that he would very much like to resurrect her just for the pleasure of killing her himself.
But if Redford had hurt Jed twice now, didn’t that make him as bad as his grandmother?
He loved Jed. He loved him more than anybody else Redford had ever had in life, and he’d never imagined feeling that way about somebody. He was fairly sure he’d never feel that way about somebody again. He wanted to leave the cabin out of shame and hope Jed realized how terrible it was that Redford had bitten him, but even as the guilt tried to push him into that action, Redford found he couldn’t leave.
He shifted. It took a little longer this time, it hurt a little more, with the instincts being further toward the back of his mind, but finally Redford was able to cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed, gingerly placing his hand on Jed’s shoulder blade.
“I’m….” Redford couldn’t think of the proper words to say. “I’m so sorry, Jed.” His voice broke on Jed’s name, but Redford drew a deep breath, trying to keep himself composed.
There had been so much tenseness in Jed’s body, like he was waiting for something, preparing for some terrible thing to happen. But the second Redford touched him, all of that melted. He turned, dislodging Knievel, grasping at Redford’s hand. “Why?” he asked softly, eyes searching Redford’s face. “God, babe, I’m the one that’s sorry. I never…. I never meant for it to be like that. Not for you. You shouldn’t….”
Sitting up, Jed had to pause, his voice cracking at the edges. “God, you’re so… you’re this innocent, amazing person, and I broke you.” Jed’s face shattered, a deep, heaving sob working its way through Jed’s body. “Christ, I ruined you. I’m so sorry, Redford. I’m so, so sorry.”
That wasn’t what Redford had been expecting to hear. In fact, it was such a polar opposite of his own thoughts that he was taken aback for a long few moments, staring at Jed in shock.
“Jed,” he protested, alarm flashing sourly in the back of his throat. He’d never seen Jed like this. On pure instinct, he raised his arms to wrap around Jed’s shoulders, pulling him in close. “Jed, please don’t apologize,” he continued, his voice thin. “I hurt you. And that’s not the first time I’ve hurt you.”
“I don’t care” was Jed’s immediate response, forceful and sure even as his eyes were wet, even as he choked back another sob. “Jesus, Red, I don’t fucking care. That wasn’t… you’re not beating me or some shit, okay? You were wolfed out, and I got in the way. I just didn’t want you to…. I didn’t want you to come to and realize you’
d killed someone else. That’s what I do, that’s my job, but not you. You’re better than that.”
It still didn’t excuse what Redford had done, but Jed seemed focused on a completely different issue here, one that Redford hadn’t even been thinking about.
“I killed those men for you, Jed. That first one was going to shoot you in the back.”
Even as he said it, Redford felt dawning realization at his own words. He’d spent the whole drive home feeling sick that he’d killed those men—and he still did feel that sour clench of guilt, the terrible churning shame of it—but now he started to realize there had been a point to it. They hadn’t been needless murders. In fact, it was what any of them would have done. It was what Jed had done. Three of those bodies had been brought down by his bullets. Those men were trying to kill them, and Jed’s first rule was that, if someone was coming after you, you had to live. Whatever that entailed, you just had to survive. And they had.
“I killed them for you,” he repeated. “You taught me how to take care of myself and the people I love, and I did.” He pulled back from Jed a little, showing him his arms, his chest, the way he didn’t have so much as a scratch on him. And despite his lingering guilt and misery, Redford found himself smiling. “I don’t even have a mark on me, Jed. Everyone else got hurt in some way. You taught me how to fight and look after myself and be independent.”
Those were good things. Those were things that didn’t involve him hiding in his grandmother’s basement, afraid of the world. But Jed wasn’t smiling. He looked vaguely sick, staring at Redford like he’d seen something horrifying.
Never once had Jed looked at him like that. Not when he changed, not when Redford was so lost in the competing instincts he chased the paper guy or wolfed down an entire plate of meat. Jed had accepted him, every part of him, from the day they’d met. But now he just seemed so sad and so afraid, and Jed’s gaze dropped away, refusing to meet Redford’s.