She glared at me, her expression as fierce as a werewolf’s. My wolf liked it very much even if we were on the receiving end of her angry stare.
“I want to go home,” she stated. “Are the circles still on the floor?”
“Yes,” Malcolm said.
“I need to clean those up. Somebody get me a wet towel.” She started to put her feet on the floor.
“Stay on the bed,” I said, then softened my tone. “Please. I’ll clean up your circles.”
Thankfully, she stopped trying to get up. I hurried to the bathroom, which was next to this bedroom and across from Natalie’s room.
I found clean towels and ran one under hot water at the sink as I took a minute to think.
Alice had declined every offer of help I’d made this morning when she woke still suffering from injuries she’d sustained the day before. And even now she didn’t want my help to get through this.
Alice was a survivor. Hyper-independence was a trauma response. I’d seen it in abused werewolves enough times to recognize the signs.
Someday, if and when she was ready to tell me, I’d find out who’d done this to Alice. I’d help her settle the score. In themeantime, I needed to listen and care for her. Offer comfort and protection onherterms, not mine.
Easier said than done because my instincts wanted me to do so much more than that. But I was a man, not a wolf driven by instincts alone.
When I returned to the bedroom with the towels, Alice and Malcolm were talking quietly. And she was still sitting on the side of the bed and not trying to stand, which was a relief.
I crouched and began cleaning up the chalk markings on the floor with the wet towel.
“What kind of shape is Natalie in?” Alice asked.
“She’s fine,” Malcolm said. “She’s been out since I knocked her out.”
“Shit.” Alice sighed. “She’s going to be a mess. I’ll have to leave her a note again and hope she’s calm enough in the morning that I can talk to her. She’ll probably think she killed me.”
I finished cleaning the floor and wiped it down with the dry towel. I draped both towels over the shower rod and returned in time to see Alice trying to stand. I got to her side just as her knees gave out.
I caught her as she fell. She looked up at me, her eyes glassy. “I’m okay,” she said, her voice shaky. “Give me a minute.”
I’m okay.
How many times had I heard one of the wolves in my pack who’d survived a brutal alpha say that when they were anything but?
I touched her face with just my fingertips, wishing I could wrap her in my arms and keep her warm and safe, and wishing she wanted that too.
“You’re not okay,” I said quietly. “I can see how badly you’re hurt. There’s nothing wrong with letting others help you.”
She didn’t believe me. Not at all. Her teeth clenched and her expression turned guarded. And she moved away from my gentle touch.
That was all right. She didn’t have to believe me right now. Someday she might, if I didn’t screw this up. If she’d give me a chance to show her she didn’t have to face everything alone.
She shrugged me off and wobbled to the nightstand, steadying herself with one hand on the bed. She found a notepad and a pen and scrawled a note:
Good morning. Don’t worry and don’t panic—I’m fine. Give me a call when you’re up. Alice.
She wasnotfine. Not okay and not fine. But I understood why she’d want others to think so.
“Can you grab my bag and my phone?” she asked.
I did, and scooped up the pile of her burned clothes too. I crammed her ruined clothing into her bag and slung it over my shoulder so I had my hands free.
Ready to catch her if she started to fall, I followed Alice as she shuffled out of the bedroom and down the hall. I left her leaning against the wall just long enough to put the note on Natalie’s nightstand. Alice’s client was still sound asleep. I touched her shoulder and offered a few moments of warm comfort before rejoining Alice in the hall.
