“A little help here,” he said in aggravation.
“Sorry,” was all that I could think to respond, quickly taking the bottle of water from the table to clean the wound. To my surprise, it wasn't bleeding as badly as I thought it would. The cut was clean, skillful even, and it wasn't long before I had it coated in aloe vera and tied with a piece of Rex's jumpsuit sleeve. “There. All better,” I beamed, proud of my nursing skills.
He leaned over to pick the microchip off the floor, eying it with distaste. “Fucking sci-fi bullshit.” My eyes followed it all the way down to where Rex stuffed it into his shoe. “It will look suspicious if it's not constantly moving around, I imagine. I'll keep it on me for today, but whenever I go out hunting or fishing, you'll have to carry it. Lord knows we can't afford to have them fuckers scaring off the game.” As if he had already forgotten about his injury, Rex began rummaging through his cabinets and boxes, assessing how much food was left. Once he was finished, he gave me a quizzical look, and I could tell that he wasn't very happy. “You sure eat a lot.”
“What was I supposed to do?” My happiness from having Rex returned to me was quickly melting into stress.
He didn't respond. Instead, he stood, picking up his bow and quiver of arrows and heading toward the door without another word.
“Where are you going?” I asked, though I knew it was a stupid question. Had I truly become so lonely?
“Where does it look like I'm going?” Rex didn't turn to me when he spoke, and with that, he was gone, leaving me alone to a solitude I was beginning to hate.
I felt oddly more lost now that Rex was back than I had when he was gone. When I had been alone, I moved about his cabin and the surrounding woods without much thought, but now I worried he would become angry if I touched anything or wandered off on my own. Frustration and mixed emotions filled me like an empty cup until they spilled over, leaking from my eyes. Life continued to be miserable.
After a good silent cry, I decided to wash Rex's blood from the floor. It was the only thing I knew to do that he would approve of, so I took the task on with meticulous detail, trying to make it last as long as possible. When I couldn't extend the chore any further, I settled on taking a nap. It was the only thing left to do.
How long I slept, I couldn't tell. With no clocks or watches around, time passed by without any sense of order. By the time I awoke, it was growing dark outside. I sat up, rubbing my eyes. While I felt better than I had when I went to sleep, I was still depressed. It seemed to be the dominant emotion since I had returned to the Blackfoot Werewolf Reservation. Would I ever be happy again? I wondered.
One thing was certain; I was going to have to stop being so intimidated by Rex. This was my home now just as much as it was his. With new resolve, I bravely stepped outside, craving the scent of forest air. The aroma that hit my nostrils was something different though, fire and roasting meat. My eyes instinctively darted toward the source of the smell, my stomach twisting with a hunger so fierce that it almost dropped me to my knees.
Rex was several yards away, spit roasting some kind of small animal. What it was I couldn't tell and was afraid to ask, scared that I might lose my appetite. Whatever it was, I was certain it was something that used to be cute and cuddly and inedible to me. Now, it just looked like food.
His eyes met mine, but he didn't speak as I approached to take a seat a few feet away from the fire, craving companionship, even though I would have rather had it from almost anyone else but him. I listened to the crackle of the flames, watching the meat with an intensity that was almost pathetic. In that moment, I was so hungry that I probably could have eaten it raw.
“I take it, you didn't fare too well without me,” Rex said as he pulled the meat off the fire.
My mind was too fixed on the meal ahead to answer. Besides, I didn't want to give him the pleasure of verbalizing what he already knew.
When the meat was cool enough, Rex broke the body in half and handed the larger portion to me. I didn't argue. Greedily, I ate, throwing all manners out the window. The meat was sparse and a bit stringy, and not very flavorful at all, but I didn't care as long as it wasn't jerky.
Rex was still gnawing on the leg of his half when I finished mine. Like a dog, I licked my lips, doing my best not to stare at him as he ate his portion. While the hunger pangs had subsided, I still wasn't full, and my stomach gurgled loudly to echo that.
“Here,” I heard Rex say, and he outstretched his hand to me with the remaining portion of his meal.
“No,” I stuttered. “You're hungry too.”
“I'm fine. You look like you're half starving to death. Just take it.”
Without further hesitation, I leaned forward to take the leftover portion, devouring it while keeping my eyes to the ground. How pathetic I must look . . . and desperate?
When dinner was over, Rex leaned back against a log in front of the fire, lazily feeding it as the sky grew darker around us. I wasn't sure if he wanted my company or not, but I decided to stick around anyway, watching him with a fascination that I had never had for another human being before.
“How . . . did you learn to care for yourself like this?” I asked cautiously.
“My brother taught me most of it. You have to learn how to survive when you grow up like I did, otherwise you just die. I probably would have if not for my brother,” he paused. “Or do you even remember my story? You interviewed so many other werewolves before and after me,” Rex's tone turned harsh, and I tried not to take offense to it, training myself to realize that this was just the way he was. He hadn't known much kindness in his life—hadn't learned proper social skills. This was the only way Rex knew how to communicate.
“I remember,” I replied. “Your story was unique.”
“I'm gonna start teaching you how to do all this stuff soon . . . in case I die or something.”
“I'm not sure I can kill an animal,” I confessed.
“I saw you fishing. Or were you just playing a game of catch and release?” sarcasm was clear in his voice.
Oddly, I hadn't really thought about it before. Never in my life had I killed anything bigger than an insect. I was so hungry though, I wouldn't have hesitated to kill a fish, had I caught one. It probably wouldn't be any different with other animals if I was in the same situation. Survival instincts take over. You do what you have to to survive.
“I would like for you to teach me,” I said finally, realizing that I needed to know.
“Good. There's a lot of stuff you're probably not going to like, gutting fish, skinning animals, but you'll get used to it. The first time you kill something is the hardest. It gets easier with time, like most things. Soon, it becomes second nature.”
While I knew he was right, it was hard to imagine at the moment. We sat outside in silence until it was pitch black all around. There were several times that I wanted to speak, to bombard Rex with questions about his way of life, but I knew he was tired, and I didn't want to be an annoyance.
I watched Rex through the fire light, the way it illuminated his bronze skin, making it almost shine. His eyes glittered red and green as they stared intensely into the blaze, and I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. Rex must do a lot of thinking, out here all alone in the woods.
“Where would you like me to sleep tonight?” I asked when I saw his eyes becoming hooded. They widened at the sound of my voice, and his body straightened a bit.
“Sleep in the bed. I'll stay out here tonight.”
As selfish as it was, I didn't argue. I hated sleeping on the floor. Only exhaustion could drag me into sleep when I wasn't comfortable, and I was far from exhausted after having a nap earlier in the day. Besides, Rex was already used to roughing it. I wasn't. He probably felt right at home sleeping outside under the stars.
“Goodnight,” I whispered softly as I stood to leave him by the fire. He grunted in reply, sending me on my way.
That night I was plagued by fever dreams, wicked fantasies of Rex and I
entwined together. It was reminiscent of the time he raped me, except this time, I wasn't struggling. This time, I wanted him inside of me.
I woke up in a cold sweat, a fresh blush on my cheeks, thankful that Rex wasn't anywhere in sight. Part of me wanted to be disgusted by my subconscious thoughts, but another part of me didn't mind so much. He was the only man I'd see for a very long time. It made sense that he'd occupy my thoughts in whatever direction they tried to wander.
Rex was cooking when I went outside. I stretched as I approached him, noticing that there were three eggs on the fire and greedily hoping that two of them were mine. It was not my luck though. He took two, leaving one for me and not making any offers.
“What's on the agenda today?” I asked while yawning.
“Probably skinning, if I get anything on the hunt today. That rabbit wasn't near enough food last night.”
Rabbit. Thank God it wasn't squirrel, I thought, though I wasn't quite sure why it mattered anymore. I would probably be eating a lot of things I wasn’t accustomed to now that I lived with Rex.
“I saw some deer tracks yesterday but didn't see nothing. Hopefully, I'll get lucky today. Either get a deer or a big fat hog,” he continued. “Either one will do. Then I can feed you proper. Get your strength up for things to come.”
“What do you want me to do today?”
He thought for a moment. “Tend to the garden. Pick what can be picked. Water it. Go foraging in the forest for some mushrooms or berries or something.”
“I don't think you want me foraging,” I admitted, feeling stupid.
“Why's that?”
“Because I can't tell what's poisonous and what isn't.” I wanted to cringe, knowing that a condescending remark was on its way.
“Ain't you good for nothing?” he huffed.
“City girl, remember?” my voice was soft, showing no reaction to his harshness.
“Just take care of the garden,” Rex growled before standing to gather his bow and head into the forest.
He had a good hunt that day, bringing home a boar that was large enough to provide us with a feast. Despite my initial hesitation, I found watching him clean the animal to be fascinating. It was bloody business, but somehow not as bad as I had thought it would be.
The next several days, Rex taught me everything he knew, from fishing to foraging to tracking animals. He was surprisingly patient with me, answering all of my questions and going into more detail about the things I didn't understand. It seemed that Rex's hard exterior was beginning to soften the more time we spent together.
We were getting used to each other, and sometimes we were even able to make each other smile. While he still hadn't taught me how to hunt, we had gotten down a routine where I would either fish or forage during the day, carrying the microchip on me while he hunted, and at night when Rex came home, I would clean the kill, and he would cook it. It was a surprisingly happy balance, and he even confessed that he hadn't eaten better in a long time. Rex was beginning to appreciate having me around, and that filled me with a sense of accomplishment and self-worth.
A week and a half before the full moon, he fell horribly ill. Like most men, Rex tried to play it off for as long as he could, brushing me away whenever I showed concern. Then one day, I went outside to find him by the fire, groaning in a restless sleep with his forehead covered in a sheen of sweat.
Desperation filled me as I tried to think of what to do. My only option seemed to be to go to the base of the reservation to get help, but I wondered if it would even be worth the effort, not to mention whether Rex would be able to hang on that long without me. Even if I ran, it would probably take me more than a day to make the journey.
Feeling confused and hopeless, I finally settled on staying by Rex's side. From what I could tell, the reservation didn't give a shit about the werewolves. Maybe they would come. Maybe they wouldn't. It didn't seem worth the risk of letting Rex die alone.
It took everything in me to help him inside to the cot. He was so weak that he could barely walk, caught between consciousness and dreaming.
I tended to Rex the best I could by placing a wet cloth on his brow, wiping away his sweat, and trying to keep him hydrated. In Rex's delirious state, it was hard to get him to drink water during his bouts of consciousness. Rex would fight me the whole way, and I wasn't strong enough to hold him down and force him to drink. Still, every swallow was a small victory, despite what I had to go through to make it happen.
All night, I stayed awake, alert, listening to Rex's breathing, making sure he was still with me. There wasn't much else I could do, and I was too afraid that he would die on me to fall asleep.
After two days of staying by Rex's side, I was beginning to lose hope. He wasn't getting any better, but he also wasn't getting worse.
I sat in the darkness at night, leaning against the cot, holding Rex's hand in mine. In the beginning, it would tremble. Now, thanks to lack of nourishment and sleep, I couldn't tell which of us was shaking the other.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I must have fallen asleep. All I could remember was running through a field. Tall grass rushed by my face, licking at it as I sailed on all fours, chasing a wolf in front of me with the strangest colored coat I had ever seen. All bronze.
“Rex,” my voice hissed, sounding venomous, though I wasn't sure why. Something was pulling me back into consciousness. My eyes opened, and the green of the grass faded into the brown hues of the cabin. Rex was laying on the cot, propped up on his elbow with a queer look on his face. “You're alright?” I asked, my voice full of relief.
“Of course I'm alright,” he replied incredulously, looking around the cabin. “Why am I on the bed, and you're on the floor?”
I blinked at him. “You were sick. You've been out for days.”
“I don't get sick,” Rex insisted, but when he tried to pull himself into a sitting position, he quickly rethought that, grabbing the sides of his head and settling back down on the cot.
“Don't . . . try so hard,” I chastised Rex softly, crawling to his side.
“Hell, I guess I really was sick,” he sounded surprised.
“You were.” I went to moisten a cloth and wipe his sweat, but Rex batted my hand away.
“Water,” he ordered, and I was more than happy to give it to him. Watching Rex gulp down a full bottle was a relief. I had worried that if the sickness didn't kill him, dehydration would. When he was finished drinking, Rex haphazardly tossed the bottle aside, looking up at me. “I'm guessing you probably don't have any food ready?”
“I can get some.” I scrambled to my feet, taking three cherry tomatoes from the cabinet and handing them to him. Rex popped one into his mouth, then hesitated before he added a second, his stomach gurgling its defiance.
“I'm going to need something more than this,” Rex told me, trying to pull himself into a sitting position again. This time he succeeded, though he still winced from the effort, his body now sore from being bedridden for so long.
“Would fish be alright?” I asked as I went to find my string and hook.
“Any type of protein would be good. Hand me some jerky, would you?”
I gave Rex a handful of strips before heading out the door and down to the river, confident enough in his health to leave him alone. Now more than ever, I was glad that Rex hadn't hesitated to teach me how to provide for us.
It took me about an hour to catch four small perch. Gutting them and cooking them on wooden spits over the fire took an additional hour. When I brought the fish back inside to feed Rex, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking to the floor as if he might vomit at any moment, his bronze face a few shades paler than normal.
“Are you still hungry?” I asked, hoping that the smell of the fish wasn't offending Rex's senses.
“I couldn't even—” Before he had a chance to finish his sentence, Rex was coughing and hacking, the tomatoes and jerky from earlier threatening to come back up.
Lightning fast, I dropped
the fish on the cabinet to grab a small wooden bowl, holding it in front of his face, though I knew he would easily overfill it. With surprising strength, Rex pushed me out of the way to get to the door. Once he was a few feet outside, he let loose, and I could see from the spot that he had chosen that it wasn't the first time. While I was amazed that I had missed it when I came back into the cabin, I was glad that I had. Seeing tomato chunk bile on the ground was enough to make my stomach turn, and I had to look away to keep from joining Rex in his vomiting.
When he was finished, I helped him back inside, setting him on the cot before wiping his face with a wet cloth. This time, Rex didn't push me away, simply sitting there in misery while I tended to him.
The entire day was touch and go, and it wasn't until the late afternoon that he could keep some food down. While I wanted to get Rex something fresh to eat, he insisted that the leftover fish would be fine. I watched him eat it with weary eyes, remembering all the warnings I had ever learned about eating cooked fish that had been left out. Luckily, nothing came of my fear.
“I think I can go back to sleeping on the floor now,” Rex told me when we were getting ready to settle in for the night.
“No. Stay on the cot. I'm going to have to air out those furs before I can sleep on them again anyway, just in case you were contagious,” I replied.
“If I was contagious, I'd think you would have gotten whatever I had. Good thing you didn't, or we both would have been up shit creek without a paddle.”
It sounded like a thank you, but I didn't want to press my luck. “You need a good night's sleep. One more and you'll be back sleeping outside,” I teased.
“Sounds fair,” there was the faintest hint of a smile in his voice.
As I took to the floor for sleep, a warm feeling crept over me. Rex may have saved me from Emmett, but I had saved him from possibly dying. Now, things finally felt even.
By the time I awoke the next morning, he was already gone, out hunting as usual. The man certainly wasn't one to sit idly by, even when it was in his best interest.
A Month with Werewolves (The With Werewolves Saga Book 1) Page 17