17
“Fuck, why do you look like I just kicked your puppy?” Rogan asks, his eyes filled with concern.
“I mean, are you going to? Are you going to kick my puppy, because if you are, can we just wait until tomorrow? It’s been a long day. I kind of died and then had a teensy weensy breakdown, and now I’m pretty sure I’m three sheets to the wind, whatever the hell that means...”
Rogan bends down in front of me, his sudden nearness cutting off my rambling. “I think it’s Pirate fordrunk,” Rogan tells me, a small smile ticking at the corner of his mouth, and its presence on his face fills me with so much joy that my eyes start to well up.
“Fuck, I love that smile,” I declare, blinking back the rush of emotions that just slammed into me.
“I love you,” he tells me back, and I stare deeply into his eyes like I’ll see all the proof I need in them.
“Do you though? Do you still love me, with everything that’s happened?” I ask, hating how uncertain and small I sound.
Come on, you are Lennox Osseous, the freakin’ Osteomancer of all Osteomancers,I tell myself, but for some reason, the inner pep talk isn’t doing much for me today. Probably because my inner voice is super focused on nachos right about now.
Man, I’m hungry.
Rogan grabs my hands and stands up, trying to pull me up with him. I grumble in protest.
“Nooo. The floor is so comfy, and there’s a knob that’s been giving me some lip, but I think it’s starting to come around to the fact that we were always meant to be friends,” I object, and Rogan chuckles.
He gets me to my feet, with minimal help from me, and guides me toward the stairs on the back wall. He sets me down and then turns on the taps to the tub and starts to fill it. Without saying a word, he’s back in front of me, pulling at the hem of the huge hoodie I’m wearing, and like the good girl I wish I was, I put my arms up so he can take it off.
I’m completely naked underneath, but any heat I might feel over his undressing me cools when I look down and see the dried blood on my abdomen. A small hole marks the spot to the left of my belly button where I was shot, and I begin to wonder how many scars will mar us inside and out before all of this is over.
Rogan stands me up and pulls my pants down, and then he takes the clothes I was wearing and walks over to the garbage, chucking them inside almost violently. I’m a little taken aback by the level of aggression he just showed those clothes, and I watch him with concern as he comes back to check the temperature of the water.
“Were they talking shit to you or something?” I ask after a beat, too curious to let it go.
I mean, I did almost get in a fight with a drawer knob earlier, who am I to judge a sweatshirt beat down?
An incredulous snort escapes Rogan, and he shakes his head. “When Riggs was alerted that we’d shown up on pack land uninvited, Saxon just so happened to be with him,” Rogan starts. “Then, conveniently,hishouse was the closest one to where we were, so I took you there to get you cleaned up. Which is why the both of us have been wearing his clothes since we rode the ley line nearby.”
I nod in understanding and try to bite back the amused smile that wants to peak out and play simply because of the annoyance written all over Rogan’s face right now.
“Guess that ass kicking will have to wait until next time,” I tease, not able to help myself, and Rogan shoots me an unamused look.
Yikes.
“Get in,” he orders, jutting his chin at the tub, and I roll my eyes.
“Bossy,” I grumble, but I do as I’m told and dip one foot and then the other into the gloriously hot water.
I moan in pure delight as I sink down into the massive egg shaped copper tub. I swear I could compete for an Olympic medal in this thing.
Hmmm, what would be my stroke?
Rogan grabs some bottles of products from the glass-encased shower and then sits behind me on the step. Out of nowhere, warm water cascades down my hair, and I squeal in surprise. Strong hands encourage me to tilt my head back, and I do as another cup of warm water wets my hair.
“So does Saxon know...” I start.
“No, thank fuck. Your heart was beating by the time they showed up. Riggs helped cover and told him we were taking you to a healer. Saxon was worried, but he didn’t question his alpha or me. I told Riggs and Viv the truth after we apparated here. They both swore on their pack that they would never tell a soul unless given explicit permission by us to do so.”
I nod and he wets my hair again. Then I hear the top of a shampoo bottle being popped open, and I realize that Rogan has every intention of washing my hair. I’m surprised but one hundred percent here for it. I close my eyes as the smell of juniper and fig fills my nose, and then Rogan’s hands are working through my hair, lathering up the soap and scrubbing all of the blood and dirt out.
I revel in how good this all feels, but it doesn’t completely combat the unease that’s settled in my chest or the fuzzy head I’m currently battling, although that last one I blame on the wine.
“This is great, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not going to distract me from the fact that you didn’t answer my question,” I tell him, and his hands go still in my hair.
