Chapter 8 Silas
Silas
Iknew my pack was in my house, but I didn’t realize I’d feel protective over Junie until I walked in. The mix of scents was overwhelming, my wolf clawing at the surface to get out and cleanse the entire apartment of anyone but her.
I’ll have to apologize to Kyrian later, at least. He won’t understand this feeling. He’s not mated yet.
Neither am I. Right? Junie isn’t my fucking mate.
I would know.
“Silas.” Junie’s voice is a whisper as she turns around.
My breathing is rough, ragged. I’m not used to her being quiet, not speaking her mind. I know I didn’t treat her the best yesterday, but I’m not trying to be her friend. I’m not even trying to be her acquaintance.
That doesn’t mean I don’t want to tear her clothes off and sink into her, many, many times over.
“Silas, you’re fucking bleeding everywhere.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?” she yells at me, tearing her hand out of mine. “Do you come back bleeding often?”
I shrug, not having energy for anything else. Everything hurts. There’s the cut on my face, the one she touched. It’s not nearly as deep as the one on my ribs.
I should have sent her away with everyone else. I don’t need her to help me. But, fuck, do I want her to. My wolf would have rioted if she weren’t here. Her scent calms me in a way I can’t understand.
Junie grabs my hand again and tugs me down the hall toward the bathroom.
We don’t say anything on the short walk, but every few steps, she looks back at me like she’s double-checking that I’m still standing and breathing.
“Sit here and don’t move.” She points to the side of the tub and is out the door before I say anything.
Cabinets and doors open and shut as she looks for who knows what. “Where are your fucking towels?”
I don’t answer, and she’s at the door of the bathroom in an instant.
“Silas. Where. Are. Your. Towels.”
“In the bathroom closet.”
Her jaw drops. “Why am I even helping you?”
I’m asking myself the same question because she nearly wanted to tear out my throat yesterday when I told her she wasn’t anyone special.
I had to push her away.
I still have to.
“Isn’t there a witch or something that can—” Junie waves her hands over the length of my body.
I shake my head. “Snow.”
“Fuck. Okay.” Her face is looking all queasy.
“It’s not as bad as it looks, princess. Don’t pass out on me now.”
Junie glares at me. “Take off your shirt.”
“You do it,” I say, slumping against the wall.
“You have two hands.”
“I want you to do it.” I meet her gaze, and it must be the right answer because she clamps her mouth shut and nods.
She walks over to me slowly. Taking a hair tie from her wrist, she gathers her hair and ties it up. A few pieces fall on either side of her face, but she doesn’t seem to mind. If I had any ounce of strength, I would reach up and tuck the loose strands behind her ears, forgoing any consequences.
Her eyes lift to meet mine. “Okay, let’s see the damage.”
The moment her fingers grip the bottom hem of my shirt, brushing my skin as she starts to lift, I shudder.
“Does that hurt?” She pauses.
I shake my head. “Keep going.”
Junie listens, continuing to pull the shirt off my bloodied torso. I lift my arms so she can take it off. She tosses the fabric in the small trash can under the sink, then returns to my side.
She kneels in front of me then, biting her lip as she takes in the damage.
“Are you going to keep staring at it? Or are you going to clean it?”
Junie glares at me. “Be nice to me.”
My mouth turns up in a weak smirk. “You don’t want me to be nice to you.”
“I—” Junie closes her mouth, and I take that as a sign that I’m right. “Maybe you should sit in the tub.”
“If you want me naked, you only have to ask.” I blame my poor health for the reckless words that leave my mouth. Am I trying to get myself into trouble? Maybe. Do I care? I’m not sure yet.
The next few minutes are agonizing as she takes a wet cloth to my wounds, wiping away all the excess blood. Once they’re clean, I tell her there’s a healing salve under the bathroom sink.
“Do you have anything I can use to apply this?” Junie asks, twisting off the lid. I’m very familiar with the tea tree scent.
“Just use your fingers.”
“Silas.”
“Junie, you’re not going to hurt me.”
She nods, then dips her pointer and middle finger into the salve.
“Do you mind if I rest my left arm on your leg?”
“Stop asking me questions and just apply the fucking salve, Junie.” I grit, closing my eyes as another wave of pain surges through me.
She mumbles her favorite term of endearment, asshole, before her body fills the remaining space between my thighs.
Her left arm settles on my leg and I catch sight of the dark green gem as it dangles from her neck.
I want to ask her about it, why she never seems to take it off, but I have to hold my breath to avoid saying anything about how close her hand is to my cock.
My only saving grace is that this salve works fast.
“What’s in this stuff?”
“Magic,” I grit. There’s a stab of pain, and my eyes fly open, landing on Junie.
She’s fucking smirking. I could keep my mouth shut, douse the fire. Except that’s apparently not who I am around her.
“Brat. It is magic. And lotion.”
She chuckles. It’s brief, but I find myself chasing that sound, wanting to know what she sounds like when she laughs without care. Not that I can be there for her as anything more than whatever this weird attraction is right now.
“Just be quiet and let me finish.”