Chapter 9 #2
I cleared my throat again. It was still sore, but the werewolf in the room was an excellent distraction. “Like, could you leave?”
“Let me wash your hair first?”
He didn’t turn around, and he added the upward inflection of his voice at the end like an afterthought, as if he’d meant to command me and had only just managed to think better of it.
Lucky for him, I didn’t have the energy to stand my ground. Plus, they’d undressed me when they put me into this flannel costume, and Ellis was the only one who hadn’t happily stripped right in front of me. So…quid pro quo, Clarice? Did that apply to getting naked?
I sighed, then carefully took the flannel off, steadying myself against the double sink on the left. I dropped the pj’s right there on the floor, padded to the tub, and got in.
The water was perfect. With this damn cold I’d caught during my little excursion, I didn’t feel like I would want to stay in there long, but I was really looking forward to getting clean.
I saw Lincoln turn back around out of the corner of my eye.
He walked to the tub and got on his knees behind me.
I felt his presence there, and it made my skin prickle, except not in a creepy way.
I knew I should be creeped out, but apparently, the fall I’d taken, combined with the fever, had broken my creep sensors.
“I can definitely promise you I won’t go hiking again,” I told him as he grabbed the shower wand and a bottle of shampoo.
“Nothing wrong with hiking itself, just maybe not in the dark and over that kind of terrain.” He put one hand on the side of my head. “I’ll be as quick and gentle as I can, but the back of your head is still pretty swollen, so it might hurt a little. Let me know if it gets to be too much.”
“I’ll be fine.” I wasn’t convinced, but hey, fake it till you make it. “You don’t really have to do this. I’ve washed my own hair for approximately twenty-eight years, you know.”
“Well, today you’re taking a day off from doing that.” The finality in his voice was clear. “Lean forward.”
I did, and he went about getting my hair wet and soaped up. I flinched when he got close to the cut.
“Shh, shh, almost done” he murmured as he rinsed away the suds.
Goddamn, what was I even doing here, getting waited on hand and foot? What I should do was grab my stuff and walk out of this gingerbread werewolf hut, move into that room I’d booked at the B&B, and forget everything about what had happened between me and the flannel-loving not-quite-humans.
Lincoln turned off the water from the showerhead as I considered that course of action. I decided to postpone it for now. It seemed like a lot of effort, and I was tired.
Lincoln caught a drop of water rolling down my forehead with his thumb and wiped it away before it could get in my eyes. “I’ll get you a change of clothes. I brought your bags back here before they towed the car. It’ll just be a minute.”
Then he left. If I hadn’t turned to watch him, I wouldn’t have known, because the man moved almost silently, even as he stopped to pick up the flannel shirt and pants I’d left on the floor.
I used the alone time to wash quickly, and when Lincoln got back—with my own clothes, thankfully—I was about done.
Instead of leaving me to scramble out of the tub, he wordlessly left the folded clothing by the sinks and grabbed a large towel from a shelf.
He moved to stand over me, the towel spread in expectation.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you for real?”
He shrugged but didn’t move. Damn him.
I wanted to be done here though, so I got to my feet, one hand cupping my cock, and before I knew it, Lincoln had wrapped me in the soft towel.
He lifted me bodily out of the tub before I could protest, stood me up in front of him, and began drying me with firm strokes that did altogether unexpected things to me.
Werewolf alphas were weird. Did they know? Had anyone told them what furry weirdos they were?
“You always bathe and dry people you find unconscious out in the woods?” I asked when his hands moved lower.
Fuck, he wasn’t trying to grope me or anything like that, I could tell that much, but I still felt…I still felt…cherished? Cherished. Clearly, my fever hadn’t broken yet. Either that, or I’d hit my head harder than I’d thought.
“Only when it’s a full moon out.” Lincoln looked up. “That’s when we go hunting for cute dummies who stumble around in the dark forest.”
I stared down at him—he’d reached my legs and was now kneeling in front of me—and the ass just smiled and winked.
I didn’t know what to say or do, so I just…let him. Okay, maybe it also felt nice, but that was the fever and the head injury talking. I was a grown man, and I could damn well take care of myself. I could most certainly dry myself after a bath.
“Need help getting dressed?” Lincoln asked softly as he dabbed my toes dry.
Something about that was incredibly erotic.
Not that I had considered what it might feel like to run my hands up and down his chest. No, why would I want to be thinking about that hot werewolf chest? That would’ve been silly.
“I’m good.” My voice hitched. I was in trouble. Big werewolf trouble.
Lincoln stood and nodded. “Good. There’s a toothbrush by the sink. Help yourself to whatever else or let me know what you need. Make yourself at home, Marcus.”
He said it not like a name, but like something you’d call a lover in the dead of night with nothing but slick skin between you. Sexy.
When he left, I stood there for a solid minute, wondering what the hell had just happened and how the hell I could calm the fuck down and focus on the fact that I was in a house with three werewolves. Or two. The doctor wolf who handed out sugar-free candy to humans didn’t seem to be around.
I figured I could at least tackle everything dressed and with my teeth brushed, so I did that, then I ventured down the stairs by myself and found Dominic and Lincoln in the kitchen.
The mouthwatering scent of fresh waffles filled the air, but what I saw was about as hot as a waffle iron.
Dominic was pouring batter onto the iron, and Lincoln stood behind him, his arms wrapped around Dominic, pressing kisses along the length of Dominic’s neck, red-golden hair partially hiding his face.
A flash of heat rushed through me, and I gasped. Both men looked at me, but neither stopped, not with making waffles, nor with making out. Hot holy hell.
I had no idea what to do. Did I cheer them on or what? So I just walked back to the room I’d slept in as fast as I could. My bag sat on the bed, open, and my shoulder bag was still on the floor. I went for that, figuring I would just check my email.
My phone was there, so I picked it up to check my inbox. There was a bit of work stuff that had come in, all of which I ignored when I saw that Steven had sent a group email. The subject line read “The true face of Marcus Waite.”
“Fuck.” I opened the email. It was a long block of text, but I didn’t bother with it, because there was an attachment. A video. “Fuck.” I clicked on it, the sinking feeling in my stomach threatening to make me throw up.
Two years ago on Halloween, Steven had convinced me to push beyond my comfort level in the bedroom. I hadn’t enjoyed it, but he had. It showed on the video, even if I couldn’t see his face. I could hear him. Enjoying himself.
I started shaking and dropped the phone. A second later, Dominic and Lincoln burst through the door.
“Marcus,” Lincoln said.
“What the fuck’s happening?” Dominic asked. It was an excellent question.
The video was still running, and of course there was sound, of course there had to be sound. Lincoln bent to grab the phone.
“Don’t look at it! Turn it off!” I sounded frenzied. Panicked. Pathetic.
Lincoln’s confused gaze wandered from me to the phone. He did take a brief glimpse before turning it off. I saw it on his face. Anger. Disgust? Disgust.
“I…I had no idea he was filming that. I—” I was trembling. “He…he sent it to people.”
My throat felt even rawer than before, and the moment Dominic sat down on the bed and put an arm around me, I burst into slobbering tears.
“What the fuck’s going on?” Dominic hissed.
Lincoln’s voice sounded flat. “Steven is going on.” He knelt in front of me. “Marcus, would you allow me to handle this from here on out?”
“He sent it. To people.” Lincoln didn’t seem to get that. That people would—had seen and…and heard, and… “He’s…fuck. Did he send it to my work contacts?” I reached for the phone, but Lincoln pulled it away from my grasp.
“Let me handle it,” he repeated, calm as you please. His eyes were full of green sparks. Fire. His eyes were alight with an angry glow.
“But this—I need to…I don’t know. Tell people what happened.” I was sobbing, which didn’t help with the shaking. The bath had warmed me, but my hands were cold, and I felt freezing where Dominic’s body wasn’t pressed against mine.
“Right now, you should focus on staying calm while we figure out what exactly he did, apart from the obvious, and then we can consider options. Okay?”
Lincoln sounded calm and so certain. He had seen though. He’d seen me on the bed, seen me like that.
Dominic stroked my back. “Let Linc do whatever he does, Marcus. He loves that kind of shit.”
Lincoln growled. “I don’t love revenge porn, Dom, thank you very much. Marcus?”
“Fine.” I bobbed my head. “Just…don’t look at it, okay?”
He sighed. “I can’t promise you that, Marcus. Dom’ll stay with you. And don’t worry. I’ll take care of this.”
I wanted to believe that. Maybe none of this was real. Maybe I was still out there in the forest, delirious, and imagining the true face of Steven. Which meant that, deep down, I’d known that face for much longer than I’d realized.