I wrinkle my nose, thinking of the horrid smelling stuff they used to wash me with before. My human nose might not be as sensitive as my wolf’s but it’s still better than a normal human’s sense of smell.
Luke smiles at whatever expression must be on my face and moves up to his knees before reaching for one of the bottles. He holds it out to me. “Shampoo,” he says. “For your hair.”
My gaze darts to the bottle, then to Luke and he sighs. He clicks open the top and pours some of the contents into his palm,holding it up to my face. Leaning forward, I take a delicate sniff, then shrug.
It doesn’t smell awful or anything, I guess.
He adds a little water and rubs his hands together, creating suds. “Lean back and I’ll wash your hair.”
I follow his instructions and his fingers gently thread through the tangles of my hair and rub at my scalp.Oh, that’s nice.
I close my eyes. A humming noise escapes my throat and my eyes fly back open, my gaze darting to Luke’s face, carefully cataloging his reaction. He only smiles softly and continues that delicious scratching at my scalp as he works the soap into a lather.
“It's okay,” he says. “You can talk when you're ready. I'm not going to pressure you.”
My lips curl into a smile and Luke's eyes darken a little and dart down to my mouth. Warmth curls in my stomach, the feeling somewhat foreign, but not unwelcome.
Ten
Luke
My mate gives mea sleepy blink, a contented—I hope—smile on his face. He hums again, rubbing his cheek against the underside of my arm as I carefully rinse the shampoo from his hair. The desire to kiss him hasn’t gone anywhere, but I’m not an idiot and I know now is not the time.
As adorable as my mate is all wet with his hair sticking up and as affectionate as he’s being now that his fear seems to have receded, that’s a comfort thing, a touch starved shifter needing closeness.
Not sex.
Especially when he’s still half lost in his wolf and I don’t even know his name.
Once all the shampoo is out of his hair, I grab some conditioner and run that through the tangled strands as carefully as possible. There are a couple snarls that I can’t get loose and will probably have to be cut out, but at least his hair is clean now.
Next, I pick up a washcloth and run it over his shoulders, down his arms, and across his chest. Dirt washes away revealing a lot of soft, pale skin. I can count almost every rib, but he’s not entirely emaciated, nothing eating regularly won’t take care of.
I hesitate before moving my hands any lower. He’s not having any negative reactions to my touch at the moment, but I don't want to cross any boundaries until I know his story. The last thing I want to do is take advantage of him.
Fated mate or not, consent is crucial.
I clear my throat. “I'll leave the rest of the washing to you, okay?”
He leans back to look at my face, his brows pulling together with confusion as he makes the humming noise again and cocks his head to the side in a distinctly canine manner.
“Unless… you don’t mind?”
He simply blinks at me and makes no move to take the washcloth. I suppose that will have to be answer enough. I wash his lower body quickly, my movements perfunctory, ignoring the fact that his cock chubs up a little and he makes a pleased noise at my touch.
When I’ve run the washcloth over everywhere I can reach, I pull the plug and rise to my feet, grabbing a towel off the rack beside the tub. He stands and I give him my hand to help him step out.
Water drips from his hair, collecting at his collarbone and running in rivulets down his body. I rub the towel briskly over his head, then dry off the rest of him before wrapping the massive towel around his shoulders.
He leans into my side as I lead him back into the bedroom and over to the bed. He’s half stumbling, probably from exhaustion, so, even though he just woke up, I help him lie down and tuck him under the blankets. He gives me a sleepy smile and his eyes fall closed almost as soon as his head hits the pillow.
I sit down beside him and stare at him for a few minutes, studying his features and counting his breaths. His chest rises and falls under the blanket, and I feel a sense of rightness. Despite the crazy circumstances, this is where I’m meant to be. I gently stoke my thumb over his cheek and his nose twitches.
I wasn’t looking for a fated mate—or any mate really—but I’m glad I found him.
Even if this might make things super complicated.
My wolf doesn't want to leave his side, terrified that as soon as he's out of my sight he'll disappear, but I have to go down and talk to Macy to fill her in on what's going on.
