His, Eternally [18+]

Chapter Sixty-Two: Hold Me

Indie's Point of View:

I tossed and turned all night, due to the fact that Thaddeus had gone for an emergency meeting. It was four in the morning but I couldn't help but feel anxious, he had been gone for three hours. I sat up in my bed, sleepily looking for my glasses while I turned on my lamp. I pulled out a notebook, one that I often doodled in when I was feeling anxious or stressed. I had to be at work in just two hours, and I knew at this point I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. After a few minutes of absentminded drawing, I pulled out my phone yet again to see if Thaddeus had contacted me. I chewed at my lip nervously, seeing as there was nothing on the screen.

To calm myself down, I slid out of bed, sliding my feet into fuzzy socks so that they wouldn't become cold. I went into my kitchen, steeping some hot chamomile tea as I listened to the rain pour outside. My breath hitched in my throat as I heard the doorknob turn, making me snap my head in that direction.

"Thaddeus?" I called out. I sighed in relief when his familiar scent flooded my nose, making me smile. I hopped out of my seat, coming face to face with a very stressed looking Thaddeus. I frowned, wrapping my arms around his neck. In response he grunted, pulling me up so that my legs were wrapped around my waist. He began to kiss my neck hungrily, pressing me against a wall. I suppressed a moan from the intimate contact, the kisses instantly distracting me from how distressed he seemed. I moved my hands down his muscular back, my eyes widening as I felt something wet touch my fingertips. I looked at my hands over his shoulders, seeing as they were smeared with blood. I gently unwrapped my legs around his waist, looking up at him. 

"Thaddeus, what happened?" I asked sternly, moving behind him so I could see his back. His black shirt was slashed, blood slightly dried over the somewhat fresh wound. He stiffened, grabbing my waist and attempting to move me in front of him again so that he could kiss me, but I didn't budge. "I don't want to talk about it." He said gruffly. "I just need you right now."

"You're acting crazy, stop it. We need to clean this." I shook my head. I grabbed his hand, pulling him into the bathroom. I then gently lifted up his shirt, seeing as the wound was so deep you could see his muscles coming through. The flesh was ripped completely, making me wince. I moved my hands to the bottom of his shirt, helping to pull it off of his head. He didn't wince at all, making me shudder. "We don't have to talk about it... right now. But this needs stitches." I said softly, scrubbing my hands for a long minute bro that I could inspect the wound.

"It'll heal just fine, Indie." His voice was snappy, making me raise a brow.

"Don't give me attitude, mister. It will heal, but it could very likely get infected. I can see muscle. Whoever did this completely ripped through all of your cutaneous. It's red and purple, which isn't normal... even for a werewolf." I said, poking his cheek. I was hoping to make him chuckle with my scientific terminology, but he didn't crack one smile.

"I'm not going to get stitches."

"Then I'll do it." I said, somewhat confidently. I wasn't taking no for an answer. He clenched his jaw, while I disappeared from the room to grab my suture kit. I knew what I was doing, thanks to medical school and Janis teaching me first-aid. My mind wouldn't stop wandering about what had happened, but I strongly avoided the urge to pry.

I pulled the surgical gloves over my hands, disinfecting the area with an iodine mixture. He had to crouch slightly so that I could reach him, making him grunt. I placed a gentle hand where the wound was, beginning to sew back and forth. Once I was finished, I tied the knot of the string and placed gauze over it. He turned around to face me, his features now less stern. "You're so intelligent, and strong-headed, Indie. Thank you." His deep, rich voice rung through the air — sending chills down my spine. I gulped, smiling slightly as he placed a soft kiss on my lips. I squealed as he lifted me up by the waist again, placing me on the bathroom counter before he buried his face into my neck.

"I love you, so much." He murmured into my hair. I stroked his jaw lightly, his tense stature relaxing almost instantaneously under my touch. "I want to taste you, I need you so bad." His voice was strained. I shook my head, lifting his chin to look at me. I tried to not blush at his words, but failed incredulously. "We can't, you can't. You're hurt." He nodded, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. He knew I was right. He wanted a stress reliever, but he couldn't use something like that to cope.

"Will you hold me instead, then?" He asked, placing a firm hand on my waist. I smiled in response. "I would love to, come here." I grabbed his hand and led him back into the living room, laying down on the couch. I patted my chest for him to lay on me, and he happily complied. He laid down, placing his head on my chest — which was hardly covered by my oversized thin t-shirt. He then wrapped him arms around my waist, happily humming as I played with his soft hair. The television played quietly in the background as I waited for him to finally rest. He was alert for a small while, due to the adrenaline vigorously pumping through his veins from the attack he had just endured.

Whether he yearned to tell me or not, I would find out what had happened.