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“Yes.” I eye him suspiciously as he places a first-aid kit on the desk and opens it, revealing antiseptic and bandages inside.
“Arm,” he says gruffly, eyeing the wound on my elbow. His jaw tenses as he stares at it, like he’s imagining putting a gun to the head of whoever caused it.
Although it was mostly self-inflicted, I wish I could get my hands on the person who shot at us too.
I hesitantly raise my arm for him—the whole situation seeming bizarre. The claw wounds the other week were so deep a medical professional had to help tend to them, plus I was out then, so I honestly can’t remember the last time someone cleaned a cut for me because they cared.
Everett kneels before me, gently holding my arm out as he places a wet gauze above it. “This is going to sting.”
He barely gets the warning out before he’s pressing it into my skin, causing pain to flare through the tender wound. I grit my teeth, refusing to let any sign of pain show as he pats the solution in, cleaning my wound.
“Hold still.”
Fucking bastard. I hadn’t even moved, yet he’s acting like I’m somehow overreacting.
He removes it before I can get a word out though, examining the skin and discarding the gauze on his desk, apparently satisfied with his handiwork.
“Sit down,” he repeats just as I’m about to stand and tug my arm from his grip. His fingers press into my skin in a firm yet light grip, not hurting me, but clearly communicating he’s not finished yet.
“Fine,” I say evenly and settle back in, unsure why I can’t just accept his gesture of kindness. Perhaps it’s just something I didn’t expect from my stubborn mate, or maybe it’s just not something I’m used to yet.
Sexual attraction and physical touch sure, but this kindness and compassion is something I’ve rarely encountered since I lost my mom.
He places a fresh piece of gauze tenderly on my skin, his touch soft despite the rough calluses on his skin. My brows furrow, but I don’t dare say a word, not wanting to break the silence and potentially ruin this moment. He wraps the gauze with a bandage next and tapes the ends, each movement gentle as he takes care not to cause me any pain. I nearly stop him to tell him it’ll be healed by tomorrow, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
“Now get some sleep,” he says, dipping to place a tender kiss on my forehead before he backs away to clean up his supplies like this is the most casual thing in the world.
My lips pop open, but he already has his back to me, unable to see the confusion written across my face. I can barely believe this just happened, and despite that, the kind gesture makes me rethink everything I know about the usually gruff alpha.
Chapter Eleven
Skylar
“SoJaspermightbeable to find something?” Seline asks, hope shining in her brown eyes.
“If there’s anything to find, he’ll find it.” A frown pulls at my mouth as I try not to let my own hope flare in answer to hers. “We still don’t know if the camera even caught anything that night.”
“If there’s anything we can do to help, you know that we’re always here,” Silas says, smiling softly at both Zeke and me.
I’m amazed at how accepting my inner circle has been of my connection to the Whitlock pack. It gives me some optimism that the rest of the pack can feel the same.
I rub at the center of my chest, attempting to chase away the ache that forms there at the thought of my pack. I haven’t been able to build that connection with them yet, and the likelihood of that happening anytime soon now that I’m staying at the Whitlock pack isn’t good.
Zeke soothes a hand over my back, some of that pain seeping through the bond to him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, brows furrowed as his stormy gaze roves over my face, reading me like an open book. Silas and Seline start forward, concern creasing their expressions.
“It’s nothing, really,” I say, raising my hands to motion for them to stop. “There’s just a lot going on right now, and I wish I could be with my pack, forming the connections you have with yours.”
Zeke takes a deep breath and nods in understanding, his eyes softening as he gazes down at me. “Soon, babe. I promise, as soon as we know it’s safe, we can make sure they know just how much you’ve been doing for them behind the scenes.”
I nod, hoping that what he’s saying is true. I don’t want them to think that my priorities lie with the Whitlock pack now because of my mates.
“We know you, Alpha—Skylar,” Silas corrects himself at my pointed look. “We know you’re exactly the alpha that the Draven pack needs and deserves. And as soon as we know for certain whether Monte poses a threat, we’ll be able to show the rest of the pack exactly that.”
“Thank you, Silas,” I say, swallowing thickly.
Warmth surges through my chest at Silas’ words, knowing he wouldn’t say that if he truly hadn’t meant it. Silas has always cared for the welfare of the pack over everything, sometimes to the detriment of other aspects of his life. Seline’s mom left the pack because of it, unable to handle the pressure of a husband who prioritized the needs of the many over her.
