Chapter 14
Fourteen
Blake
After spending years as Doyle’s champion, I know well the taste of blood and the feel of it caked in my fur. The shame and guilt that come along with killing are familiar aches in my chest. But this is somehow worse, because I don’t remember making the decision to rip out the human’s throat.
Or if it was a decision at all.
He was a bad man, this human who threatened my mate and his friend, but that fact isn’t enough to soothe my conscience. I don’t deserve her whispered gratitude or my mate’s arms around my neck.
Because I didn’t kill the human for them.
I didn’t even do it for myself.
I killed him because my wolf took control. Again.
The man was down. I could have held him there with very little effort. But that animal part of me led by nothing but fury and murderous instinct took over. My wolf saw the human as an obstacle, an enemy, as prey, and there was no holding it back.
This isn’t the ring where I’m forced to fight for survival. Doesn’t that mean I should be able to control myself, control my wolf? And am I any better than an animal if I can’t?
My mate—Neil—hasn’t said the word, but I can see the way he looks at me sometimes, the way he unconsciously tenses if I move too quickly. He worries I’ve gone feral.
And he might be right to worry.
My memories of everything that has happened since this cursed collar was first placed around my neck are scattered and disjointed, lost in the haze of bloodlust and things I don’t want to think about. But before that?
I was a person.
I had a home.
I had a brother.
Will I be able to be those things, have those things again once the collar is off? Will I be able to be the man my mate needs when I’m no longer trapped in fur?
I hope so.
“You did good,” Neil whispers again, before releasing me and leaning back so he can meet my eyes. “But I’m still sorry you were placed in a position where you had to do that.”
Why is he apologizing? I’m the one who lost control. I whine and he strokes his hand down my neck.
“Nobody’s going to shed any tears over that asshole,” he says, gaze darting the limp body for a split second.
I let out a huff of disbelief and pointedly look at his human friend—Raquel—whose cheeks are definitely wet.
Neil follows the direction of my gaze, then rises to his feet. “Uh, Raquel?”
“Yeah…” Her voice is small, barley above a whisper and her eyes are glued to the body of her… whatever he was. Boyfriend? Abuser? Both?
“You’re looking a little green. Maybe you should—”
She sprints toward the kitchen, leans over the sink, and retches. Neil makes a disgusted face and rests a hand on top of my head, gently running his fingers through my fur.
“I think that is what they call ‘morning sickness’.” Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he shudders.
“Good thing I’m not a sympathetic vomiter.
” He blows out a breath and glances around the room, then grabs a ratty blanket off the couch and walks over to the body, covering it with the fabric. “Out of sight, out of mind, right?”
I nuzzle my nose against his side. My mate is a good friend.
After a couple minutes of helplessly listening to Raquel get sick, Neil walks to where she’s still huddled over the sink, making choked noises. Somewhere along the line, the gagging turns to sobs and he pulls her into his arms, gently running a hand up and down her back.
“I know I’m better off without him, but…” She lets her words trail off, shaking her head.
“It’s still a shock,” he replies. “I get it.”
She takes a deep breath, then lets it out in a huff, wiping at her eyes. “I’m going to brush my teeth and splash a little water on my face.” She sniffles. “Pull myself together.”
“Good idea.” Neil’s gaze strays to the body again. “And then we should get out of here. I don’t want to hang around too long in case someone heard the gunshot.”
“We don’t need to worry about that. Nobody around here calls the cops,” says Raquel.
“Still.” Neil shakes his head. “Better not to risk it. Staying at the scene of a crime is never a good idea.”
“You’re probably right.”
“Probably?” Neil raises his brows and she shoves his shoulder.
“Okay, fine, you’re right.” She looks my mate up and down. “But before we go, you could do with some cleaning up as well.” Her gaze moves to me and her eyes soften. “And Wolfie too.”
She disappears into the back bedroom, and Neil tilts his head toward the hallway. “It might be a tight squeeze, but how about a bath?”
I stand up and pad over to stand next to him, pressing my nose against his hand.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, heading down the hall with me trailing along behind… like a puppy.
He wasn’t kidding about it being a squeeze.
The bathroom is tiny with barely enough space for both me and Neil to stand inside.
There’s not even enough room for him to close the door until I hop into the tub to get out of the way.
I sit down, the plastic cold against my hindquarters, as Neil eyeballs the single rusty shower head.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, darting out of the bathroom and returning less than a minute later with a big plastic cup. He holds up the cup. “Not ideal, but easier than trying to use a nondetachable showerhead.”
I simply stare at him, unsure how to convey that a cup is still better than a hose, so I’m not complaining.
Neil smiles and nods to himself before kneeling next to the tub and turning the water on.
He holds his fingers under the stream until he’s satisfied with the temperature, then fills up the cup and uses it to wet my back and sides as best he can given the thickness of my fur.
Gently tilting my head back, he places his hand above my eyes, then pours the warm water over my head.
Rivulets of water stream down my head and the side of my face, but my mate’s hand keeps it from my eyes.
That tiny gesture of care is nearly enough to make me cry.
That’s not something I can do in this form, but the emotion still creates a lump in my throat and a burning in my eyes that I so desperately want to let out with a good sob.
Of all the horrors I’ve suffered since this collar, I never truly realized how awful it is to not be able to have the release of tears.
Shoving the uncomfortable feeling away, I close my eyes and lean into Neil’s touch, reveling in the soothing sensation of his presence as he washes the blood from my fur.
This is the first time I’ve had alone with my mate, and after everything that’s happened, it’s almost a relief, this little slice of peace, of quiet care, and closeness.
“This has been a hell of a night,” he says half to himself, rubbing at a particularity stubborn spot near my ear. “With everything… I can’t believe we made it out of there in one piece.”
He goes silent and returns to his task, the process taking longer than it should because of the inadequate size of the cup.
I let my mind drift as he carefully cleans as much of the blood from my fur as he can.
There’s no way he’ll get all of it out, not like this, but it’s better than nothing.
The process, despite my form, makes me feel almost human again, a feeling I haven’t had in a very long time.
Smiling softly, he brushes his thumb over the side of my face as he pours more water over my back.
“And you… I never expected to find my fated mate, and I have no idea how I got so lucky—relatively speaking—but I’m glad I did.
” He strokes my face again. “I hope you are too even though things are kind of awkward right now.”
I lean forward and lick his cheek and he laughs.
“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page then.”
Affection warms my chest. I don’t know what the future holds for Neil and I, but I silently thank fate for the gift of this moment.
He hums under his breath as washes my legs one by one. The tune is unfamiliar, but there’s something about this experience that reminds me of my childhood. Of when my mom used to give me baths and when I used to help my little brother.
I’m only four years older than Ollie, but I was always his caretaker, his protector. When mom died, I was the only one to watch over Ollie, the only one who cared enough to make sure he was fed and clothed and happy.
But I failed him. Not until years later, but still… I let him down, and whatever horrors he suffered at the hands of the humans is entirely my fault.
What if—No. I can’t deal with this right now.
I force the memories away and concentrate on the feeling of Neil’s hands running through my fur. He pours a few more cups of water over my back, then leans back on his heels.
“I think that’s the best it’s going to get for now,” he says, patting me on the head between my ears. “You ready to get out?”
I stand, careful not to slip on the slick bottom of the tub, and Neil pulls a towel down from the rack and starts rubbing it over my fur.
The thin piece of terrycloth doesn’t do a very good job, but once he’s rubbed me down as well as he can, he motions for me to hop out.
My paws hit the floor and instinct takes over.
I shake out my fur, sending a spray of water all over the floor, the tub, and my mate.
He blinks, then lets out a quiet laugh as he wipes at his face. “I should have expected that, huh?” He glances down at his ragged outfit, now splattered with water and fur and who knows what else. “I guess it’s my turn to get cleaned up now.”
My eyes are glued to him as he starts stripping down to his boxers, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor.
I caught glimpses and hints of his body throughout the events of the evening, but this is the first time I’ve gotten to actually look.
He’s on the smaller side—as is typical for an omega—but the lines of his body are enhanced by lean, well-defined muscles.
He’s certainly not a gym rat, but he takes care of himself.
He must feel the weight of my gaze on him because he winks, then waggles his brows and pretends to do a little strip tease with his socks. I chuff and poke him in the stomach with my nose.
“That’s cold.” He mimes an exaggerated shiver, then laughs and moves closer to the tub. He pauses, frowning at the mess of fur and dirt my bath left behind. “I think I’m better off sticking with a sink bath.”
I chuff again, the closest to laughter I can come in this form and he grins at me.
“At least it will be quicker.”
He maneuvers around me to get to the sink and splashes some water on his face, then runs his fingers through his hair.
He grabs the hand towel sitting on the counter and wets the corner, running the fabric over his chest and arms, scrubbing at spots of dirt and blood until they’re no longer noticeable.
Dropping the towel into the sink, he leans up and grabs a can of body spray or something on the counter.
He takes the cap off, takes a sniff, then wrinkles his nose and puts the can back.
“I’m not interested in smelling like ‘eau de middle-aged frat bro’, so water will have to do,” he says, picking the towel back up and rubbing his underarms.
I’m glad. The only thing my mate should smell like is me.
He stares at himself in the dirty mirror and turns to either side. “I think that’s the best I’m going to be able to do for now.”
Still in only his boxers, he shoos me out of the bathroom and gestures for me to return to the living room while he heads to the back of the trailer where I can hear Raquel moving around.
He disappears into the bedroom, and after a brief whispered conversation with his friend, returns a couple minutes later dressed in a T-shirt with a kitten on it that’s just a little too tight and a pair of black skinny jeans.
Noting my amused look, he shrugs. “Raquel’s clothes fit me better than Danny’s, and they’re better than nothing.”
I pad forward and butt my head against his hip until he reaches down to scratch my ears. There’s no way to tell what the future will bring, so, for now, I’m just going to enjoy all the pets I can get.