Josh didn’t answer, but he didn’t object either. So Nero got an energy drink and a straw, and then he helped Josh sit up, propping him up against the weight rack. He sat there quietly, watching as Josh took a single sip. The guy grimaced as it went down, but a minute later he took another. And later another.
It took twenty minutes, but eventually the bottle was empty and Josh had color in his cheeks. His eyes were the steady green color of new grass, and his body temperature had risen to werewolf normal, which was a little hotter than vanilla humans. He didn’t object when Nero brought him a protein bar, and he steadily chewed that.
A half hour passed with Nero watching over a silent Josh as he doggedly gave his body what it needed to survive. Salts and water. Protein and rest. After forty-five minutes, Josh was looking healthy again, but just in case, Nero risked a question.
“Better?”
Josh nodded.
“Think you can stand up? I can take you to the library now. Or you can go back to your room. Or we can talk. Whatever you want.”
Josh didn’t speak, but he did roll onto all fours before pushing to his feet. Movement was good, so Nero got to his own feet as quickly as possible. He was ready to grab Josh if he teetered, but wasn’t going to help unless asked. Every man had his pride, and he didn’t want to trample on Josh’s.
A moment later Josh was upright and looking steady. Excellent.
“So do you want—?”
Pain exploded through his jaw and face. His head snapped back from a vicious right cross. Fuck, he hadn’t even seen it coming. He adjusted as quickly as he could, but he was reeling. Jesus, who had taught—?
Another blow, this time to his left side. He felt his body gather the energy. He could be a werewolf in a second, and then let the bastard try to take him down.
But he didn’t go there. He didn’t even raise his arms to defend himself. Josh had the right to beat the shit out him. And Nero deserved every blow.
Which is exactly what happened. Punch after wicked punch hit him until his eyes were swollen shut, his jaw was broken, and…
There it was. Shot to the temple.
Unconsciousness beckoned, and he dove straight into that cold, black void.
Chapter 11
JOSH PULLEDhimself back with a horrified jerk. His hands were bloody, his teeth ached from clenching his jaw, and the smell…. God, all he could smell was sweat and blood. He felt surrounded by it.
Nero was unconscious on the mat, his face a bloody mess. Nausea rolled in Josh’s stomach, but he fought it down. He had to get help.
After stumbling out of the room, he dashed to the upstairs door, hauled it open, and bellowed, “Help! Someone—medic!”
The response came gratifyingly fast. He’d barely taken a step back toward Nero when a woman burst past him and sprinted for the gym. He followed while more people came thumping down the stairs. He was moving slowly, feeling disassociated with the throbbing in his hands and the twist in his gut. He watched in that numb state as the woman felt at Nero’s neck for a pulse.
Oh fuck. Had he killed him? He didn’t even remember hitting the guy, but the rage still churned inside him. He remembered the way Nero had detailed all the failings in Josh’s life. No friends, no family, no fame. And the purpose and connection that Josh had cobbled together into a life had just been obliterated by Nero. That bastard had done it to him, and….
“Get it under control!” the woman snapped as she shot Josh a glare. “Why the fuck would you do this?”
Josh swallowed, only now realizing he’d been growling. That a raw animal fury was boiling inside him.
“Answer me!” the woman snapped. Was this Captain M? Probably, given the way she’d taken charge.
“He confessed.” That didn’t begin to cover what the bastard had done, but that’s what came out. And before he could find his way to more words, she rolled her eyes.
“Of course he did. Jesus,” she said, dropping a hand onto Nero’s shoulder. “I knew this was a mistake. New werewolves are always angry, and Nero is desperate to be punished. God damn it!” She squeezed his shoulder. “Wake up, idiot. You need to shift and heal your face.”
There was anger in her tone, but also fear. And as more and more people crowded into the gym space, Josh smelled so many things—eggs and bacon, formaldehyde, baby powder deodorant, and spices. Someone’s body odor was acrid, another’s had a fruity scent, and yet another’s had a metallic tang. Added to that was the scent of his own sweat, as well as Nero’s blood. God, he couldn’t block that copper taste and the incessant beating of four words through his brain:What have I done? What have I done?
His stomach clenched, and he stumbled backward. There were voices everywhere, some soft, some anxious, and one in particular barking out orders.
“Get him the trash can!”
Someone shoved a wastepaper basket into his hands, and he lost the fight of trying to control his body. It felt like his stomach was twisting itself into rope, and everything was being squeezed out.
