Dylan dropped the carton of milk, the white liquid splashing on the floor and mixing garishly with the blackish pools of blood, and turned around in a panic. He found himself staring at an unfamiliar woman standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at the carnage and John’s lifeless body with a look of absolute shock on her face.
“I didn’t…”
Dylan had no idea what to say to defend himself. He started to sway, the room spinning faster, and he would have fallen on his face if the strange woman hadn’t rushed forward and caught him.
“You’re okay, I’ve got you,” the woman said, confirming that she was a werewolf by lifting him up in a princess carry and taking him out of the room. “Let’s get that bite looked at and get you cleaned up, and then you can tell me what happened and we can come up with a plan to fix this.”
Dylan was very confused. This was not how he’d expected anyone to react to walking in on their dead alpha and the human who’d murdered him.
“Who are you?” Dylan asked, though what he actually managed to say was more of a mush of words that he hoped made sense.
“I’m Steve’s mother, Freia,” the woman said, bringing him into the bathroom and depositing him on the bathroom counter next to the sink. She opened the medicine cabinet and frowned. “I was looking for my ex-husband when I heard a commotion from Steve’s apartment. Oh, hey, stay with me!”
Dylan jerked, surprised to find himself propped up and steadied by a pair of steady hands on his upper arm. He blinked, realizing that he’d been about to pass out and fall into the sink when Freia caught him.
“Steve doesn’t have any first aid supplies, so we’re just going to keep pressure on that bite until it starts to heal.”
Dylan frowned. “I’m not a werewolf,” he mumbled, reaching up and placing his hand over the kitchen towel over his neck.
“No, but John was, and werewolf bites heal very fast. It should be closing up already.”
Dylan had thought that was only for mating bites. Did this mean that all werewolf bites healed quickly?
He wondered if anyone had studied the healing properties of werewolf saliva and seen if it could be used in human medicine, and if the stuff in werewolf saliva was the same thing that made their sperm so beneficial for human health?
“We think so, but we’re not sure,” Freia said, smiling at him. “There have been several attempts to identify what might be the healing factor, but so far no one has found anything.”
Dylan hadn’t realized that he’d been vocalizing his musings on the nature of werewolf spunk and saliva.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Freia asked, taking his hand off the kitchen towel and guiding it down to his lap. She removed the towel and grabbed a washcloth from the drawer, which she dampened with some hot water and brought up to clean away some of the blood on his neck.
“He said he wanted me to be his omega.” Dylan stared over Freia’s shoulder, his gaze unfocused. He felt like he was watching himself from above the sink, staring down at him and Steve’s mom with a strange sort of detachment.
“Did he succeed?” Freia asked, her voice gentle. It took Dylan a second to understand what she meant.
The memory of John’s bulge digging into his stomach pushed to the forefront of Dylan’s mind, followed by a sense memory of John’s shifted cock rubbing over his chest and getting it slick and gross with pre-come.
“I don’t think so,” Dylan said, flinching when Freia wiped the washcloth directly over the bite on his neck. “He rubbed his dick on my chest when he was shifted and got some pre-come on my skin. Would that be enough?”
“No.” Freia rinsed out the washcloth and put it down. “But I think you should shower just in case. Are you up for that?”
Dylan nodded. He was still woozy and the room was spinning, but he could stand in the shower for a few minutes if it meant getting rid of any trace of John’s bodily fluids.
“I’ll help you,” Freia said. “We’ll get you cleaned up and make sure to wash all the blood off you, and I’ll tell everyone that I walked in on him trying to turn you into an omega against your will and managed to stab him.”
“I cut his dick first,” Dylan said, letting Freia help him off the counter. “He was really mad.”
Freia nodded. “I’ll work that into the story.”
“You won’t get in trouble?” Dylan asked, leaning on Freia’s arm as she guided him into the shower.
“No.” Freia helped him lean against the wall and then, once she was sure he wouldn’t fall, she turned on the water. “Marcus will know I’m lying, but he’ll play along with the official story. Do you need help taking your clothes off, or would you prefer to be by yourself for this part?”
Dylan hadn’t thought about his clothes, but of course he couldn’t shower with them on. He would have preferred that Steve’s mother never see him naked, but he knew that he needed her help and he wasn’t going to be stubborn about it.
“I’d like some help, please.”
“Of course.”
