He waited on the patio for him, catching stares and curious looks and glared back at anyone who looked too long or met his gaze.
Two minutes passed. Then five.
Unease bit into Mik's nerves, clamping down on his heart and twisting his gut. What was taking Sam so long?
Eight, maybe ten minutes later, Sam emerged with some wet paper towels. His eyes were red-rimmed and downcast, and he avoided meeting Mik's as he set to work on mopping up the remaining sticky residue of the treat gone amuck.
"Sam—" Mik began but Sam cut him off.
"We'll talk later."
Once Sam was satisfied, he threw out all their trash in a nearby bin and pushed him away from the shop.
They went straight to the car without another word and Sam helped him in before putting the wheelchair in the back and climbing in.
Even when the town was far behind them, Sam didn't say a word. Didn't look at him. He kept his eyes on the road and Mik turned his attention to the countryside flying by.
A mixture of emotions whipped around the car but Mik couldn't make them out as the wind blew in through the open windows. There were moments when he thought he could pick up the smell of salt, but Sam's face was a firm mask with his jaw clenched and his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.
The drive back to the mainland was long and tense. Neither of them uttered a word. Neither one of them made a move to comfort or break the tension that whipped between them through the open windows.
When the valley opened up through the forest, Sam drove the car past the main buildings and into the forest on the other side. A cabin came into view a couple dozen yards from the valley and he pulled up to it. He stared up at the cabin for a few seconds before heaving a sigh.
"This is home... for now," he told Mik without looking at him.
Mik looked up at the small structure as Sam climbed out of the car. It was an old-fashioned log cabin, the kind he used to imagine as a kid when his grandfather told him stories about witches and monsters lurking in the forest to eat pups. He also noticed the two wooden steps up to the front door.
"Ah shit," he grumbled as Sam opened his door without the chair at his side.
"It's only two steps. We can do it if you let me help you," Sam mumbled.
"What about the infirmary?"
Sam shook his head, his eyes on the ground beneath him. "We need our own space. Come on, give me your hand."
Grumbling incoherently under his breath, Mik reached out with his good hand and Sam helped to pull him out. They half-hopped, half-hobbled to the door and Sam had to stand behind and help lift him up each step. It must have taken five minutes and once they were inside, Sam helped him sit down in the nearest chair—at the table just off to the side of the door.
It was a one-room cabin with the kitchen area in the front with a little round table for two, a bed at the other end of the cabin with two doors to the side that must have been a closet and bathroom, and a couch separating the two spaces. There was a wood-burning fireplace between the two spaces along one wall but otherwise, the place was simple and small.
Sam brought the wheelchair in before leaving again and telling him that he'd be back later.
Heaving a bored sigh, Mik slouched in the uncomfortable chair thinking about how best to approach Sam when he came back when the door opened and his most hated scent greeted him.
YOU ARE READING
The Defiant Claim (The Claim: Book 2) LGBT
Werewolf[COMPLETE] Revenge drove him. Bloodlust raged in his veins. All 22-year-old Mik (Mikwam) wanted was to reclaim his birthright and destroy the alpha that took it from him. He never expected to find his mate within the pack of his enemy -- nor was he...
