“No…you…aren’t.”
With each word, she tried unsuccessfully to tug the plate out of his grasp.
“Flora!” he chided. “You’re being ridiculous. Just give me the plate and go rest.”
“Stop telling me what to do!”
The plate slipped from their hands and crashed to the floor, shattering against the linoleum. Flora immediately knelt down and began cleaning it up.
“Let me get the dustpan,” Camden insisted, hurrying toward the pantry where the broom was kept.
But Flora didn’t stop picking up the pieces. She was so tired of being ordered around that even Camden’s sensible request to use caution rubbed her the wrong way. She threw the pieces one by one into the trash can angrily. Her tangle of emotions had only gotten worse.
“Dammit,” she cursed. Her finger had gotten nicked on one of the shards, and blood was pouring from the wound.
“Flora, what happened?” Camden asked in alarm as he came back into the room holding the broom and dustpan.
“Cut myself,” she said shortly.
“Let me see it,” he said. He knelt down beside her and tenderly grabbed her forearm to draw it closer to him.
“It’s fine,” Flora insisted.
She tried to pull away, but Camden didn’t let go. He grabbed a clean towel from the drawer beside them and wrapped it around the wound. His touch was gentle as he dabbed the blood away so he could inspect the gash.
“It isn’t too deep, but we should wash it so it doesn’t get infected,” he said. “Come here.”
Gently, he helped her to her feet and turned on the water. Testing the temperature first, he placed their hands under the running faucet together and gently massaged her hands with soap. The water ran red, then pink as the blood was washed away.
“I can take care of it,” she mumbled, knowing it was no use.
“I know you aren’t used to being taken care of,” he murmured as he dried off her hands. “If it takes some time for you to get used to me doting on you, that’s fine with me. But I want you to know that I’m not going to stop. You aren’t going to push me away by being harsh with me. No matter what you say, I’m going to be right here to take care of you.”
Flora inhaled sharply, both from the pressure of the towel against her cut and her surprise at Camden’s words. He led her into the bathroom and got out a first-aid kit. As he dressed herwound, Flora realized how different this man was from the one she used to know. The old Camden never would have put up with her talking to him in such a rude way, and he definitely wouldn’t have helped her when she was hurt. She wondered what had caused that change in him, and whether it would last.
“Thank you,” she said quietly as he finished bandaging her.
She inspected the white cotton gauze wrapped around her finger tidily as Camden went back to the kitchen to clean up the mess of a broken plate and blood on the floor. Her eyes caught her reflection in the mirror, and she looked at herself intently. Camden had changed, but in many ways, she hadn’t. She was still human, still the lowest member of the pack, and still deeply afraid of having what small semblance of freedom she had left taken away from her. She couldn’t risk giving her heart to Camden again.
Chapter 8 - Camden
Camden hadn’t given up on his idea of erasing the misogyny within his pack. Each day that he was in Silverrose made it clearer than ever that the women had been relegated to the shadows of daily life. Wives were subservient to their husbands, as they had always been, but things seemed to have gotten even worse in the past few years. Women rarely went anywhere alone, traveling in pairs of two or three as if they were afraid to be caught out on their own and needed the solidarity of a companion just to run errands. Something needed to change, and quickly.
To start the process, Camden knew it was essential to get them involved in a social gathering. Since he had been back, the only gatherings that had gone on had been for men only.
“I just don’t see the point of it,” Harold argued when Camden came to him with his idea. “A party for the entire pack? The women won’t want to be a part of that. Who will look after the children if everyone is there?”
“Some women won’t want to come, of course, and I’m sure some of the men won’t want to attend, either. The older members of the pack have had their time to party—not you, of course, Uncle. I’d never call you old,” Camden said with a charming smile, noticing that Harold had begun to huff at the mention of age being a factor. “You’re as young as ever!”
Harold seemed pleased by Camden’s flattery, so he continued.
“The children will be looked after by anyone not wishing to attend, but I’d like the invitation to extend to everyone. It’s been a long time since my squad had the opportunity to be around everyone. Consider it a homecoming party.”
“But thewomen?” Harold repeated.
He still seemed flabbergasted that Camden wanted anything to do with the lower members of the pack, but Camden pushed through. He had always had the ability to charm people, and he was starting to learn how to use that ability to help others.
“Everyone,” Camden said with another winning smile. “The men would love the opportunity to dance with some pretty ladies, don’t you think?”
