I didn’t even know who they were or how to find them, but I wanted to.
He’d been here for a month and in spite of his guarded nature, he’d never tried to hurt me unprovoked. If I got too close, he lashed out in defense—but he was never the aggressor.
His true nature was gradually revealing itself, and he seemed completely unaware of the slow change that was happening.
He was curious. Very curious. There were questions in his eyes that never made it to his lips, and I wanted him to let them all spill out.
More than that, he was kind to Luna, if a little wary of her—which was understandable since the first thing she’d done was tackle him.
He even seemed to enjoy her company. His gaze often strayed to her sleeping form, like he was reassuring himself that she was still there, rather than out of any caution or fear.
There was this tentative hope pumping into my heart—a hope that maybe he’d stay. That he’d eventually become comfortable with me, with this place, maybe even come to like it.
Likeme.
What would his laugh sound like? If he let me take the muzzle off, how wide would his smile be? Did he have any dimples, like me?
I’d have to keep a stash of apples for him. Would he like them dried, too? I always did that for the winter months in between harvests.
With a sigh, I picked up the plate and headed out of the tiny kitchen toward his room. As soon as I turned down the hall, there was an odd sound, like a growl—but Luna never growled.
And then I saw Three lying on the ground and panic sparked across every nerve ending. The plate fell from my fingers and I shot toward him.
“Shit, what happened? Are you?—”
I reached for him but he swiped at me with a vicious snarl, and I yanked my hand back. He was on his stomach, and his face…
He was absolutely drenched in sweat, his face was bright red, pupils dilated. It was really noticeable in the blue eye because the color was just a tiny ring around all that black. He was trembling and?—
And grinding his hips into the ground. Little moans were interspersed with choked pants and gut-wrenching sobs.
What the hell? Had his fever returned?
“Hey, what’s?—”
His eyes rolled back in his head and the loudest, longest whine poured out of him. His hips stuttered, slowed, then stopped altogether. My face was flaming right now.
Was he…did he just…
“Um…”
Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, what should I do? Should I walk away? Leave him alone? Or should I try to help him back to the room? What the hell was the protocol here? I mean, yeah, I’d touched myself before…but I’d never been around anyone else doing it.
Not that he’d touched himself, he’d just been…been grinding into the floor.
I swallowed past the dryness in my throat and took a step toward him. He was still making little noises, sounding like a wounded animal now, and I needed to help him. It didn’t matter what had just happened, he was obviously suffering.
Whether he wanted me to or not, I was taking him back to the bed. I stepped over him for a better angle to pick him up, and he shifted, keeping his wild eyes trained on me.
“I’m just gonna take you back to the room, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you.”
He was trying his hardest to glare at me, but tears were streaming down his face and he kept trembling. He seemed like he was in so much agony that I couldn’t stand it anymore.
When he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, I took that opportunity to bend down and quickly—and carefully—turn him over, making sure not to touch his wound. I slid one arm under his knees and one behind his back, just below the wound.
He immediately started thrashing in my hold, scraping his fingers down my face. He clocked me right under the chin with a fisted hand, knocking my teeth violently together with a loudclack.
Fuck, that hurt.
