The realization made Carter’s blood boil. He almost took a sharp turn to catch the exit, but he quickly thought better of it. Even if Owen had somehow messed up the pack wards, going after him in a rage was bound to end badly—forCarter. He’d talk to Owen when he was feeling calmer, or maybe even avoid the matter entirely and insist that Grayson deal with it personally.
It wasn’t until he was pulling into his garage that it occurred to him that the wards might not have gone off because the Texas pack had crossed them with good intentions. The thought made Carter freeze. If the Texas pack had come in good faith, that would mean thatGraysonwas the one that had started the fight.
The thought made him bare his teeth and growl at the air in front of him. If Grayson had betrayed him—had sabotaged the peace with the Texas pack to undermine him—then Carter was going to rip him to shreds.
Closing his eyes, Carter took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. It was hard, but after a few deep breaths and a deliberate unclenching of his fists, he felt like he had himself under control.
He needed to wait. Until he knew for sure if the fault for the day’s fiasco lay with the pack’s new witch or with its alpha, he couldn’t do anything.
Heading into the house, hand reaching blindly for the light switch next to the kitchen door, Carter made his way up the stairs and into the master bathroom. He turned on the shower and stripped off his clothes before bundling them into the washing machine. When he’d moved into the house the washer and dryer had been in the basement, but Carter liked having them in the bathroom instead. It was more convenient, even though it made the bathroom far more cramped than it had to be.
Stepping under the warm spray of water was heavenly, the hard jet crashing down on his shoulders and making him sigh. He stood there for a few moments, letting the heat and pressure work their magic, shifting slightly every few seconds so that every inch of his upper back and shoulders got its time under the pounding spray.
Shoulders lowered in relaxation, Carter reached for the soap and squirted a generous helping into the palm of his hand and started rubbing himself down. The soap burned when it came into contact with the cuts littered across his chest and shoulders, but the pain was nothing but an annoyance. He could already tell that everything except the nasty gash across his pec would be healed before he went to bed, and that even that would be nothing but a faint scar in the morning.
There was no question that werewolves were built for violence—no matter how much they liked to pretend otherwise with the human population.
Rinsing himself off, Carter was just about to start washing his hair when his phone started ringing. He put the bottle of shampoo down and stepped out of the shower, snatching his phone off the counter and stepping back into the stall in a hurry so that he wouldn’t get water all over the floor. He looked down to see who was calling and grimaced at the name blinking up at him.
“Hi, mom,” he answered, bringing the phone to his ear. He ran his hand through his shoulder length hair and brushed it out of the way so that it wouldn’t drip all over his phone.
“I just heard what happened, sweetie. I’m so sorry. Do you need me to come over?”
Carter sighed. The last thing he wanted to deal with in his current mood was his mother’s sympathy. She’d been convinced from the start that taking on the Texans was too much for him, and the last thing he wanted was to deal with her trying not to say “I told you so.”
He’d had enough of that from Grayson.
“That isn’t necessary. We weren’t expecting a fight, but we were prepared for one anyway. No one on our side was hurt.”
“I know, but you worked so hard for this. Are you sure you don’t want me to come over? I could bring you some of my chicken soup. It’s in the freezer, it wouldn’t take me more than an hour to heat up.”
“No, mom. I’m sure. I want to be by myself and relax for a bit.” Carter shifted, the steam having left the shower and his skin started to get cold. He tried wrapping up the call. “I’ll see you on Saturday, mom. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
“I can’t help it, I’m your mother.” There was a loaded pause, and Carter felt a knot in his stomach at the question he knew was coming. His mother’s voice was cautious. “You’re not… you’re not leaving the city tonight, are you?”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Carter said, gritting his teeth. “Though I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“I just want you to be happy. If you could just find someone in the pack to settle down with, everything—”
“I like humans, mom. That isn’t going to change. Ever,” Carter interrupted before his mother could get going. The words were harsh and blunt, but they needed to be said. His mother’s breath hitched and she went quiet. It had been a long time since she’d heard those words out loud.
“I’ll see you on Saturday. I’m sorry today didn’t go as you planned,” she said after an awkward pause, the words distant and polite. It was the same tone she always got whenever the issue of Carter’s abnormal sexuality came up.
It hurt just as much as always.
“See you,” Carter said, hanging up first. He resisted the urge to throw the phone across the room—his mother’s attitude making him feel small and angry andsad—but instead stepped out of the stall and placed it gently on the counter.
Washing his hair, Carter couldn’t help the angry thoughts from swirling. It wasn’t his fault that he liked humans and not other werewolves, and the injustice of his fellow pack members’ prejudice—his own family included—was infuriating.
It wasn’t like he was hurting anyone. Why should it matter so much?
Rinsing the shampoo out of his hair, Carter turned off the water and dried himself off in a flurry of angry movement. He yanked on a pair of faded jeans and an old t-shirt, walking down into the kitchen and heading right for the freezer. He was in the mood for vodka laced with wolfsbane, or more accurately, the drunken stupor that vodka and wolfsbane would bring him.
Reaching into the freezer, Carter closed his fist around the neck of an icy bottle of Fenris Vodka and yanked it out. He unscrewed the cap and walked into the living room. He’d already taken three hefty swigs from the bottle by the time he sat down on the couch facing the TV, but he was going to have to drink the whole thing if he really wanted to get wasted.
Leaning back into the couch, Carter took another swallow and grimaced as the liquid burned its way down his throat. The wolfsbane tasted terrible, lingering on his tongue and making it numb, but he wasn’t drinking for the flavor.
For a second he wished he were human. Then he’d get to fuck who he wantedandhe’d be able to get drunk without having to poison himself in the process.
