Neil
Needlesstosay,Dannyis not my biggest fan, and if it wasn’t clear by now, the feeling is mutual. I can count on one hand the number of times he and I have actually interacted face-to-face, and every single one of those times Raquel has ended up having to step between us to keep the peace.
I doubt tonight will be any different. In fact, tonight might be when I decide to punch the guy in his stupid face.
I couldn’t care less what Danny thinks of me—just like he doesn’t care what I think of him—but I definitely care about how he treats my friend. He’s never raised a hand to her in my presence, but her reaction right now gives me the impression that doesn’t hold true behind closed doors.
Raquel stiffens, her wide-eyed gaze flying toward the front door as Danny’s muffled curses continue. She shrinks away from me and gets to her feet, staring at the flimsy door and nervously biting at her lower lip. The seconds stretch out, Danny’s obvious drunken lack of coordination preventing him from getting his key in the lock, but eventually there’s a triumphant shout accompanied by the sound of the key sliding into the lock.
Wolfie hasn’t moved from my side, that low growl still rumbling in his chest. I gently rest a hand on his back and stroke his fur in a silent request for him to stand down. The last thing this situation needs is an unstable alpha shifter adding to the tension. He turns his head to look at me, then sighs and settles back onto the floor.
Seconds later, the knob turns and the door flies open. It hits the wall with a loud bang and Raquel jerks, her entire body going tense. She manages a smile, but it’s obviously forced, born from a desire to placate the asshole stumbling into the trailer rather than from actual happiness to see him.
The exact same kind of smile my mom used to wear when my dad came home.
Danny staggers inside, ignoring the rest of us and moving toward the small kitchen. He opens the fridge and leans down to stare inside. When he doesn’t find whatever it is he’s looking for,he huffs in irritation, slams the door, and turns to scowl at Raquel. “We’re out of beer.”
“Sorry. I should have checked.” She shuffles her feet, glancing down at the floor.
Danny snorts, then his gaze slides to me and his eyes narrow. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I was invited,” I say in a flat voice.
He sneers and mutters something under his breath that I can’t quite make out, but I’m damn sure it’s not a compliment. Thankfully, that seems to be all he has to say. He shoots me another glare, then shakes his head and stumbles down the narrow hallway toward the back bedroom, careening back and forth between the walls like a ping pong ball. The door to the bedroom slams behind him, and the heavy tension in the air begins to dissipate.
That is until Danny shouts Raquel’s name. “Get your ass in here!” His slurred voice calls out from the bedroom. “I got something you need to take care of.”
As if pulled by invisible strings, Raquel immediately starts toward the bedroom. I grab her arm and pull her back, shaking my head. “You don’t need to go back there. By the looks of him, he’ll be passed out soon and we can—”
“Raquel!” The second yell shatters what little composure Raquel was holding on to.
She flinches and tugs out of my hold. “I’ll just get him settled down and then we can figure out our next steps in peace.”
I hate the idea of her “getting him settled down” but I don’t try to stop her again. She and I have had numerous conversations about how Danny treats her, but until she’s ready to listen, there’s really nothing I can do. She walks down the hall to the bedroom door and slowly opens it, glancing back and offering me a small smile before she slips inside and shuts the door behind her.
“Lockit,” mumbles Danny, just loud enough for me to hear. “Then get over here.”
There’s a soft click, and I swallow back the burn of bile, disgust twisting in my stomach. Raquel’s never had it easy, and she learned—or, rather, was taught—early on what she had to trade for even a hint of safety and stability.
Eyes burning, I sit back on the couch, actively making an effort to tune out any noise from the bedroom, and run my hand over the top of Wolfie’s head. He’s stopped growling, but he hasn’t relaxed and he’s eyeing the bedroom door with a clear look of distaste.
“Me too, Wolfie. Me too,” I mutter, letting his fur sift through my fingers. His eyes dart up to meet mine and he lets out a low whine. “There’s nothing we can do unless she wants help.”
Unfortunately, Raquel and I are a lot alike in that respect: independent almost to the point of isolation—except witheach other.
My hand pauses, and I glance down at the wolf at my side. I’m not alone anymore, and unless one of us chooses to walk away from the fated mate bond, I never will be again, not really anyway. The thought makes me feel strangely conflicted.
On one hand, fate has basically given me someone made just for me, someone whose broken pieces are supposed to fit perfectly with mine. But on the other, I haven’t had a lot of choices in my life and, considering the circumstances I found him in, I don’t think Wolfie has either. In some ways, the whole fated mate thing feels a lot like fate stole yet another choice from both of us.
Wolfie leans his body against my legs as if he senses my emotional turmoil and he’s trying to reassure me. I give him a soft smile and scratch behind his ear. “We’re going to have a lot of things to talk about once that collar comes off and you can shift again.”
The wolf, of course, doesn’t have a response for that. He just rests his chin on my knee, his attention returning to focus on the bedroom door with a quiet intensity as I continue running my hand over his head.
Raquel’s voice is a quiet murmur behind the thin barrier, and now that he’s not yelling, Danny’s slurred responses aren’t any easier to make out—shifter hearing or not. The bedsprings squeak and the voices continue, my friend’s tone soft and placating. They go quiet for a few seconds, then Danny lets out a grunt.
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath and curling my hands into fists. She’s lived with him for nearly two years. She knows what she’s doing. Still doesn’t mean I want to listen to it.
And definitely doesn’t mean I don’t absolutely hate this for her.
