Chapter 10
Delilah
I take a deep breath, steeling my spine and preparing for whatever Dean has planned for me. Once Quil released me, I ran all the way here, and now my feet are screaming at me. I've been through worse, I can deal with this.
As soon as I knock, Dean opens the door. He moves aside, watching me closely, and lets me in. Quil’s scent must be all over me, but if he notices, he doesn’t comment on it. Thank fuck. I was sure he’d murder me the moment I stepped through this door.
Dean is wearing a shirt and sweatpants, not looking ready for class at all. If I’m late because of him, there will be hell to pay. Coal will no doubt pitch a huge fit, even if it isn’t his day to be served.
He watches me as I limp past him, and he shuts and locks the door.
I set my bag on the ground, turning to face him.
He really is attractive, and here in his room, the early morning light casts a soft glow around the room, making him look almost angelic.
I get the sudden urge to reach out and caress his cheek. I drop my eyes to my hands and smile.
“Do you want me to cook something for you?” I ask him, looking behind him at the small kitchen.
“Why are you limping?” he asks, completely ignoring my question. I look up at his face and can’t help but glance at his intense brown eyes. Like tourmaline gemstones. Fudge, I need to stop staring.
“I have cuts on the bottom of my feet, and they’re uncomfortable,” I answer honestly, looking away.
“Sit,” he orders, pointing to his couch.
I move without arguing, sitting down where he directed, and wait.
He leaves the room, and when he returns, he’s carrying a black bag. He kneels on the floor in front of me, and the blood in my veins freezes.
Is he going to tie me up? Punish me for being injured? Take advantage of my body already?
“What are you doing?” I ask in a panic.
“Take your shoes off,” he demands in a low voice. I kick my shoes off, watching him intently. If he was Coal, I might consider protesting, but I don’t know this Wolf at all, or what he’ll do if I disobey him.
As soon as my shoes are off, I wince. Both feet have bled enough to seep through the gauze and both layers of socks. Lovely. The pain is bad, but I didn’t realize how bad the cuts were.
A low, menacing growl rumbles in his chest, and I flinch at the sound.
Dean grabs one of my feet, pulls the socks and gauze off, and examines the damage carefully.
“How did you manage to get so badly cut?” His voice is rough with anger. The already low timber was attractive, but husky with anger. I shiver, biting my lip, and scolding myself internally. We’re scared of him, remember?
Call him master, and beg him to touch you…
Oh, fucks sake! What the fuck is wrong with you!? I worry about my off-the-wall thoughts sometimes.
“After I left the dining hall yesterday, I was knocked out from behind. I woke up in the woods with no shoes,” I watch as he pulls something out of his bag.
I’m surprised when I see that it’s a bottle of healing ointment.
“Oh, no…don’t. I mean, you shouldn't waste that.” It’s not that I don’t want the relief, I’m just not used to the Wolves showing me kindness.
I don't know what this will cost me. “I can’t afford that.” I try to pull my foot away, but his grip on my ankle tightens, but not painfully so.
“This works very quickly. Your wounds should heal before we need to head to class.” He starts applying the ointment, and the instant relief causes me to moan much too loudly.
“Oh shit, that feels good.” I didn’t realize how much pain I was in until it was relieved.
I’m good at ignoring most of my pain. Fuck, my body relaxes into the couch as Dean continues to rub on the ointment.
That stuff is strong. I watch as his large hands massage my feet and can’t be bothered to care about what this will cost me. It’ll be worth it.
“Mmmm…” He’s doing that thing with his lips again, and I realize it’s the face he makes while focusing on his task.
When he frowns and pulls his large bottom lip between his teeth, I nearly melt.
I push my knees together, wondering why the fuck my body has been so…
lusty. Why his clean woodsy scent is going straight to my head and fucking with my libido?
He makes an unusual rumble in his chest, that isn’t quite a growl, but has me flushed and nervous. When he starts massaging the excess ointment up my calves, I freeze. Woah… That feels like magic. I guess it technically is, but I was more focused on his hands on my body.
“Feel better?” His voice is so deep that I swallow hard and nod.
He smiles, puts his things back into the bag, and then leaves the room again.
I take a moment to look around. It’s a large room with all the things the Human dorms lack.
Like space to sit, large windows that let lots of light in, and a kitchen.
He has his own bathroom and private bedroom.
I bet his bed is huge. It must be if it’s big enough to hold him.
When he returns, he’s holding a clean pair of socks, and I’m surprised when he tosses them to me.
“Thank you,” I say cautiously, frowning slightly as I pull the way-too-large socks on. I wiggle my feet and then stand, testing how they feel. He wasn’t wrong, the potion does work quickly.
“Here.” He pulls something from the fridge, and I look over to see a green potion bottle. I stare at the very questionable color.
“That looks like poison,” I blurt, and he chuckles.
“It would have been a waste for me to heal your feet before tricking you into drinking poison.” Dean’s laugh is a low rumble, and I want to hear it again.
No, bad Delilah. No flirting with your new master.
You’re not equals. He owns you. I remind myself since I am clearly being driven by the hoochie under my skirt.
“Or, you healed me to make it easier for you to trick me into drinking swamp water…” I counter, pointing at the sludge. “I think I’d rather take my chances with the head injury.” I nod, not wanting to drink that stuff at all.
“Just a sip? Come on, Delilah, be a good girl.”
Automatic shivers. Holy shit, why did he say it like that? Am I ovulating or something? Good grasshoppers, what is going on with me? Maybe my head got knocked harder than I realized. It dislodged the good sense in my noggin that stopped me from making horrible choices.
“Good girl,” he says again when I take the small bottle and tip it back.
“Oh, that was actually not horrible.” I hold onto the empty bottle, not sure what to do with it, but Dean snatches it up and tosses it in a trashcan.
“It’s flavorless,” he shrugs, turning away, moving into the kitchen, placing a pan on the stove, and flicking on the burner. That's my cue, I guess.
“What do you want me to make you?” I ask him, hustling over to him after I pull my shoes on. But as I step up beside him, he pauses, turning to look at me.
His clean, woodsy scent hits me, and I take a deep breath. Wow, he smells so good. I lean closer to him, unintentionally, as I attempt to get a better sniff. He notices and takes a step into my personal space, looking down at me in a way I didn’t know Wolves were capable of. Kindness.
He reaches up and moves the hair off my shoulder, and my heart rate spikes. He’s so gentle, as if I’m too delicate for his rough hands. My mind races with thoughts of how different this Wolf is from the others I’m so used to.
“Sit, Delilah. I’ll make breakfast.” He turns away from me, and I take a few steps back.
I stare at him in disbelief. In all the years I’ve spent around these Wolves, never once has a single one of them done anything for a Human.
Not that I’ve seen, anyway. They sure as fuck haven’t claimed an Avowed, and then cooked for said servant…
What alternate reality have I stepped into?
Did the blow to my head cause hallucinations?
“I… What?” I ask, still staring at him.
He looks at me with a small smile on his lips and tilts his head to the side, examining me. “You’re cute when you’re in shock.” His grin grows at the outraged look I give him.
“Did you just call me cute?” I ask, my mouth hanging open slightly. Oh, god. The concussion was worse than I thought. I’m in a coma, imagining this entire thing….
What the hell is happening? He helped me, offered to make our food, and now he’s calling me cute?
“Am I about to be murdered? Are you one of those psychos who's nice to his victims right before he rips their throats out?” I ask him seriously, taking another couple of steps back.
At my retreat, his eyes darken. He rushes me, and I yelp before I brace myself for his attack. Yep, definitely one of those psychos.
He stops when his body is pressed against mine. He gently grabs my chin, causing me to meet his chocolate eyes.
“I will never hurt you. Stop fearing me; you’re safe here.” The sincerity in his eyes throws me off even further. He reaches both hands up to cup my face. “You are safe with me,” he insists, emphasizing the word safe.
“Why?” I don’t know what else to ask. Why is he being so kind to me? Why would he want me to trust him, or insist so fiercely that he’ll never hurt me? He’s forcing me to meet his eyes. I try to pull away or look at his lips instead, but he doesn’t budge.
We’re interrupted by a knock on his door. “Dean, let me in. I know she’s in there!”
I look at the door, trying to place where I’ve heard that voice before.
“Is that Matteo?” I ask Dean, confused. He’s not all growly like he was in class yesterday. Why in the fuck was he looking for me? I was already Avowed. Twice!
Dean steps away from me to unlock the door. When Matteo steps in, his amber eyes go right to me. He steps up to me, looking me over.
“Are you okay, what happened last night?” he asks, concern clear in his bright eyes, moving behind me and lifting my hair to see the back of my neck. What is happening right now? Am I hallucinating?