Knowing his actual name would be nice too, but I’m picking my battles here.
I pull into a parking space near the motel office and put the truck into park, then run my hand over Wolfie’s head and down his back as I work up the energy to get out. Eventually, I force myself into movement, and Wolfie waits in the truck while Raquel and I go inside to get a room.
The front desk clerk gives us a bit of side-eye, but doesn’t comment on our somewhat disheveled appearance, and she’s happy togrant our request for a room around the back farthest from the road. As much as I’d like my own space or some time alone with my mate, for now it’s safer to stay together. Plus, we need to conserve funds, so one room with two double beds it is.
Once we’ve paid the slightly exorbitant “no need for ID” price, the clerk passes me key attached to an overly large plastic placard with the number 103—no fancy electronic locks here—and Raquel and I jump back in the truck. I pull around to the back side of the motel, parking in front of the door at the end that displays a number matching the one on the key placard.
There are only a couple other vehicles here, and a quick glance around confirms there’s no one watching. I motion for Wolfie to get out, and the three of us hurry into the room. As could be expected, given the surroundings, the room isn’t much: stained carpeting, two beds with threadbare comforters, a small, ancient TV with an actual antenna on top of it, and a couple nightstands. There’s a door in the back corner that must lead to the bathroom.
I immediately close the curtains and move the extra door latch into place. The little metal chain won’t hold up against a concentrated effort to get inside, but it’s better than nothing. The extra barrier, as insufficient as it is, provides a tiny bit of reassurance.
Raquel collapses face first onto the bed nearest the door, not even bothering to take her shoes off. “You can take the first showerif you want. I can wait till morning,” she mumbles into the pillow. She goes silent for half a second before picking her head up and narrowing her eyes at me. “No funny business, though. I don’t want to listen to you getting off, Neil.”
I nearly choke on the laugh that explodes past my lips. “When have I ever subjected you to that?”
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at me before waving me off toward the bathroom and burying her face back in the pillow. Knowing my friend, she wants some time to herself, and this is her way of getting it.
I walk over to the bathroom and open the door to take a peek inside. It’s just as tiny as the one back at the trailer. If not smaller.
“You’ve already had the luxury of a bath,” I say, glancing at Wolfie. “And there’s not enough room in there for both of us, at least not when you’re still on four legs. Did you want to try shifting?”
He only whines in response and lies down on the floor, angling himself so he can see the door to the outside before resting his chin on his paws.
“I’ll take that as a no,” I say slowly, brows drawing together. I wasn’t too concerned earlier about him not shifting, but I’m beginning to get there. Without the collar, there’s no reason forhim not to shift… unless he’s been trapped as a wolf so long that hecan’t.
And I have no idea what to do in that case. Shifters who lose themselves to their animal are the very definition of feral—at least in the eyes of the triumvirate, and they don’t take kindly to ferals. Under their laws, to be feral means to be put down like a rabid animal. There’s no trial, no recourse, and no in-between.
But the triumvirate is a worry for another day. There’s only so much more crap I can handle right now, and I don’t want to think about losing my mate when I’ve just found him.
Leaving Raquel to sleep and Wolfie to keep watch, I sigh and go into the bathroom and close the door behind me. Unsurprisingly, the minuscule space isn’t in any better condition than the rest of the motel room. The cheap linoleum flooring is peeling in the corners, and almost every surface is stained in some way.
But as long as there’s hot water, I don’t care all that much what it looks like.
I lean my elbows on the sink with my head in my hands, breathing slowly and hoping the cracked porcelain is strong enough to hold me up. I take one more deep breath, then raise my head and stare at myself in the streaked mirror. Rust lines the edges and dark spots obscure part of my face, but there’s no missing the dark circles and haunted look in my eyes.
I’ve been so worried about how Raquel is handling all this and what Wolfie is going through, that I haven’t really bothered to take stock of my own mental state. There are about a million thoughts running through my head, and maybe ninety percent of them are anxious what-ifs. Absolutely none of them are helpful. My brain is so wound up that, if I weren’t utterly exhausted, there’d be no way I get any sleep tonight. The plus side of being run ragged, I guess.
I shake my head, look away from my reflection, and turn the shower on. The water never budges more than a couple degrees past lukewarm no matter how long I wait, so I sigh, strip out of my clothes, and hop in under the spray. After everything else I’ve been through tonight, a little cold water isn’t going to kill me and, if nothing else, I need to wash off the stress sweat.
I’m not sure how long I spend in the crappy shower, but by the time I dry myself with a scratchy towel, pull my boxers back on, and leave the bathroom, Raquel is under the covers and fast asleep. Wolfie’s on the bed beside her as if he’s guarding her, and the sight has a small smile curling at the corners of my lips. It’s such a relief to see my best friend and my mate getting along, because the idea of having to give up either one of them is unthinkable.
Wolfie lifts his head from his paws and turns to stare at me where I’m standing in the bathroom doorway. He studies my face for a second, then jumps off the bed and pads over to me. He nuzzles atmy stomach, the sensation of his cold nose on my bare skin sending a little shiver through me.
I smile softly and run my fingers through his fur. “You’re bunking with me, I take it?” His eyes meet mine and he dips his chin. “That’s fine, but you better not hog the covers.”
He chuffs in response, then gracefully jumps onto the empty bed, spins around a few times, and settles himself on top the blanket, staring at me expectantly. I join him seconds later, crawling under the covers and falling asleep almost before my head hits the pillow, Wolfie’s warm body curled up at my side.
My dreams are disjointed things, flashes of unconnected images and snippets of words and sentences that don’t fit together. They take me from the night my dad died to Doyle’s office to that first foster home to childhood memories of my mom and back again, everything circling through my head out of order.
The third… fourth… fifth time I’m reliving the memory of my mom pushing me on the swings at the park mashed together with the feel of Doyle’s sneer and my dad’s rage, a loud bang startles me awake.
Heart racing in my chest, I blink up at the unfamiliar ceiling. There’s not much light, so it takes a good thirty seconds before my eyes adjust and my brain engages enough for me to rememberwhere I am and how I got here. I glance at the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock.
Barely four a.m. Ugh.
Somewhere nearby, a door slams and the sound of arguing voices filters into the room from outside. I snort when a high-pitched screech turns into a name along with a long-winded diatribe about all his failings as a human. Whoever Carl is, he’s having areallyshitty morning. And a way, way too early one. I kind of feel bad for the guy.
Eventually the sound of the argument fades away and the events from… yesterday? The day before?... begin to replay through my head. I try to reorient myself after the night of crazy dreams and the sudden unwanted wakeup call. As the foggy haze of sleep clears, another thing registers in my brain and I go still.
