AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“There are no words,” I told him because there weren’t. The determination to get back to my shift, get back on my feet, didn’t erase the soul-deep ache I felt at my own loss. I wanted to be furious that the humans had done this, and I would be. But in the moment, there was just fear and sadness. “I can’t think about it right now.”
“How about food and a shower?” he suggested. “I would also like to cut that mop on your head.”
I dragged my hand through my tangled locks and knew he was right. I needed to strip away the last bits of the lab that were clinging to my body. A haircut, a shave, new clothes that fit. Misha’s scent still clung to me, and the idea of washing it away made me ache in ways I didn’t want to think about, but I was desperate to get clean.
I moved to the dresser and opened one of the drawers, my hands grazing over clothes that smelled like mine. “Have you heard anything about Misha?”
Orion made a curious noise, then scoffed. “No, why?”
I shrugged. “He saved my ass, and he didn’t deserve whatever the fuck they did to him.” I startled when Orion touched me, and I resolved to pay closer attention to the sound of his footsteps now that I couldn’t watch him. I placed my hand on the back of his arm and hated that he’d been right—it was an easier way to be guided.
“The place is stocked for you,” he said, avoiding giving me a real answer. “Uh… we need to figure out a system so you can—” He stopped and cleared his throat. “You know, figure shit out on your own.”
He wasn’t wrong, and another wave of frustration hit me that it would take that much more effort just to know my own bedroom or kitchen. “After I shower and some shut-eye. And food.”
I’d been free of the lab for days, but sleeping on a moldy mattress in some run-down, abandoned shithole in the middle of the woods offered me no real chance at rest. I traced a touch down his arm when he stopped, then found a counter and a stool. The walk hadn’t been far, which meant the place was small, and I could hear him only a few feet away digging around a fridge.
“Sandwiches good?” he asked.
“Anything,” I said. The lab kept me on an IV for nutrients, and after that, it had been peanut butter and stale bread. A fresh sandwich sounded like five-star gourmet.
My mouth began to water the moment I smelled the meat, and I was damn-near growling with claws itching at my fingertips by the time he slid the plate in front of me. I lost all ability to care how I looked as I groped for it, and the first bite dragged a small sob from my chest.
“Kor…”
“Please don’t,” I begged him, my voice thick with both food and emotion. There was little dignity in this moment, but I appreciated he let me feel like I had privacy. I ate, swallowed, drank the water when he pushed the glass against my curled knuckles, and I let myself settle. I could hear him picking at food, but mostly, I knew he was staring.
I wondered what I looked like now—emaciated still. I had gained some of my mass back, but not enough. Misha had described my eyes—the very essence of my Alpha status swallowed by pupils that would never change again. My cheeks felt hollow when I ran my fingers over them, and I was still in the filthy clothes we’d been rescued in.
“Tell me what you need from me,” Orion said after a beat. There was deference in his voice—he was setting himself back as second to my command, and my wolf preened, still too far under my skin.
I swallowed down food, water, then my pride as I pushed the empty plate away from me and stood. “Help me figure out the shower, cut my hair, then leave.”
“Kor…” When his fingers curled around my wrist, my subvocal growl had him wrenching back.
“If you need to babysit me, you can come by and do it in the morning. Tonight, I’m going to figure this damn place out, but it’s humiliating enough that I needed you for all this. And I get it,” I snapped at him when I heard him suck in a breath to argue. “I know it doesn’t make anyone in my position less of an Alpha. But I’m falling apart, and I’m not ready to be weak in front of you. Or anyone. So just… give this to me.”
He didn’t say anything, but through the bond, I felt his acquiescence. And our connection was stronger when he finally offered his arm and walked me to the bathroom. He gave me a quick tour, but I made it obvious after only a few seconds that I wasn’t going to let him stay much longer.
He said nothing as I sat on the toilet seat, and I listened to him rummage around, then listened to the quiet buzz of the clippers he’d pulled out from somewhere. I turned my back to him and reached out, feeling the plastic shower curtain, then I closed my eyes as he took my hair off in clumps. We’d done this for each other before—back in our early military days when we didn’t have time to properly groom. My head felt lighter with every pass of the clippers, and I fought the urge to reach my hand up and feel how much was gone.
My eyes got hot, my throat tight. I didn’t let myself cry—not yet. But it was a damn-near thing. His hand touched my jaw when he was done, then lifted my face by my chin.
“Let me get this shit off your face,” he murmured.
The lab had shaved me every so often, but not enough. I swallowed thickly, but I didn’t trust myself with words, so I nodded. The electric razor passed over my skin, leaving a rugged stubble behind. I felt it with the tips of my fingers when he was done, then reached up to trace along the undercut he’d managed with enough skill that I knew I’d look like myself again. Or something like it.
I said nothing as he put everything back in its place, didn’t move as his knees thumped on the floor as he gathered up the hair. I felt rigid and unsure, but the pack bond was stronger than ever, and I felt his emotions through it. Less pity, more relief—and I could live with that.
“I’ll head out now,” he said after a moment. “I don’t have a phone for you yet, but I’ll find something.”
I said nothing as I stood, my knee pressing against the closed lid of the toilet seat, and I grunted to let him know that I was listening. After a beat, he sighed, then turned and walked away.
I waited to move until I heard the lock in the front door click into place, and there was something settling about knowing he had a key. When the bond stretched to its thinnest, when he was far enough away that I could let go and know he wasn’t taking the brunt of how I was feeling, I turned the shower on, then headed for the bedroom.
It was a stumbling journey of starts and stops, of groping along the walls until I found the door, and running my hip into the nightstand before I got to the bed. I wanted to fling the damn thing across the room, but instead I peeled the clothes away, then brought the shirt to my nose and hunted out Misha’s scent.
It was there—faded from the journey and tainted from the hospital—but I could still find it. I damn well knew what craving it meant, but the only thing telling would be whether or not it lasted as time and distance kept us apart. For now, I shoved it under my pillow, then made my way back to the bathroom.
