Artifice - Man x Man - Book Six

Chapter 55 ( M)

I keep silent as I work on him in the bedroom. He sits on a stool, back facing the sink as I work on cleaning the stab to his collar bone, it's deep and narrow but it seems to be benign enough. I dump the alcohol on it if nothing else than to punish him for fighting. With each swab of the gauze to pull away blood from the various injuries and bruises, I became more and more concerned. 

My stack of soaked linens was growing. Yet, it would seem he was already healing in most places.

Verando brings the bottle of vodka to his lips, and I shake my head as he tips it up and back. Snagging the bottle, I set it down roughly. "Care to share?" Those light eyes catch my gaze, and it almost makes my heart skip; I'm to close to him as I hover to get a better line of sight on his injury.

The bright lights of the bathroom play on the multiple shades of gray in his hair. Tangled, carefully styled to be classy and yet playful. Streaks of blood ruin the illusion, smeared across his forehead and through those tangles. 

This man was a killer, not a boyish English man. His jaw was stubbled with growth, almost enough to hide the scar on his lip. "Randy, what happened? Can I please hear this from you before I have to hear it from the news?" 

Verando points to the alcohol.

"I'm going to need some more of that then." Making a face, I hand it over. I can't handle an intoxicated lycan on top of trying to mend him, though it would seem at this point it was moot. The wounds would be healed by morning. I keep silent, not daring to interrupt him as he recants the evening for me. 

Without having to pry, he tells me everything and for the first time, I feel as though he's not holding back.

For so long, I had wondered how I'd feel to have my Alpha back. I had missed him and to an extent, the no-bullshit attitude had its positives, but now, as I listen to this story, I can't help but feel a pang of regret. He was back, which meant that anyone who crossed us would not get the same 'thoughtful' approach of live and let live. 

I focus, trying to relive the details as he paints a vivid picture of the fight scene. I want to be sick and cheer all at the same time as I think of him shoving her into that oven, only to learn moments later that she was still alive but just two fingers lighter. 

I touch the bruising on his shoulder. "So the repair is holding up?"

"I haven't felt this amazing in a very long time." He admits, glancing downward as if he was ashamed of that fact. "I don't think I realized just how restricted I was till she hit me with that damned pan, I waited for it to hurt, and it did, but... it just didn't matter. I had been in so much pain for so long, I think she could have lit me ablaze and I might'n of noticed..." 

I knew the shoulder was painful; I had seen him limp as long I had known him. I remember back to that very first night, seeing the scars and thinking immediately of how it would weaken him. Looking at him, shirtless now before him, I trace my fingers over the lines across his collarbone.

 "I feel like myself for the first time since it happened."

What can I say? That I hope it doesn't change him, that I don't want him to go off the deep end because he can?

For so long, I had played off his injuries as his age, now it seemed as though he was a young man again, complete with raging testosterone. "Let me look at your side." I gesture to him to lean over, and he flinches as he does so, balancing on the sink. 

"So, do you think she's going to be helpful?" 

I want to think about something else, back to the actual reason why I was tending to him.