Oh. “I’m not expecting promises.”
You learn not to expect them in the first place.
“You should. You deserve them. I’m so sorry.” He traces the pad of his thumb against my pulse point and my heartrate spikes. “Why did I do this?”
“You’re angry.”
“Of course I’m angry!” The topaz color of his eyes brightens, and I suck in a startled breath. “I hurt you. I’m pissed and I’m scared and I have no control over myself.”
A tremble, rooted at the place he’s touching me, spreads through the rest of my body. “I know how to take care of myself.”Lies.
“That’s not the point,” he growls.
From what I’ve learned about Grayson, he’s like me.
He’s the kind of person who lives his life walking the knife’s edge of control. We recognize it in each other, two stranded survivors on the same desert island.
“I’ll do my best not to let it happen again.” Grayson slowly pries his fingers loose and lets his arm drop. “But we’re going to have to address this.”
“It’s addressed. Consider it done,” I scrabble. “Now will you please get some rest? I don’t want to have to tie you down.”
His expression speaks volumes. “I mean we have to address your terrible job with, what, a washcloth?”
I shake my head. “I’m a wolf. I’ll heal fast. But maybe you can find something to wear? Please?”
Grayson pauses and his fingers tap out a familiar but distant melody on the side of his thigh. “Something bothering you?”
There’s a good excuse in there somewhere, rattling around in my head. If only I can find it.
He chuckles at my pause. “I’ll see what our cabin owner friend has in his dresser. Hopefully something will fit me.”
“That’s the bad part about shifting,” I call out once he’s back in the bedroom and I’m able to breathe again. “If you aren’t anticipating it, you can ruin an entire wardrobe.”
“Noted.”
He emerges minutes later. Red flannel drapes across his shoulders but the corduroy pants are a few inches too short for his legs. Grayson is built.
He has to be.
I stare anywhere but at him as he holds his arms out to the side
“This better?”
“Guess our guy is a flannel fan.”
“I’ll have to write him an IOU.”
I turn in time to watch Grayson scratch his head. Exhaustion drags the skin beneath his eyes down to the sharp points of hischeekbones and the hollow caverns beneath. The change will do that to you, I’m told.
My arm throbs. I clutch it close, Grayson heads into the bathroom and emerges with the discarded first aid kit.
He points to the couch. “Sit. I’m going to boil some water. We’ll clean you up properly.”
He needs something to focus on, a distraction, and I’m the only thing he’s got. Unfortunately, it’s kinda hard to keep the distance I need when he’s intent on me.
“You’re not obligated to take care of me. I’m fine. We need to make a plan to get out of here before that thing comes back.”
“I’m not obligated to do shit. I’m here because I want to. I came to find you. Sit.”