Page 17 of Ruffled Feathers

We weren’t that far apart in age, but something about jerking off to OJ always felt forbidden. Like I was sullying something good and perfect.

Sighing, I used my shirt to clean myself up and hauled myself to the shower.

Eight

Otillie-James

You didn’t rescue animals for a hobby without befriending a vet or two, and Anakie Remorne had quickly crossed the line from professional acquaintance to friend. As I stood Spartacus on the metal table in front of her, she was trying hard not to laugh as I explained that I’d been picked up for cockfighting, then been busted by Truett and Sonny for having a veritable farm at the house.

Anakie was a few years older than me, a Beta in her late twenties, and she ran the vet clinic with her husband Rex, a six-foot-six former Australian rugby player, who was one hundred percent Alpha. They had an Omega and another Alpha at home, who would all tease me just as mercilessly next time I came to dinner.

“You should’ve called me. I could’ve picked up the rooster and treated him, rather than putting that on your new… friend.” Unlike Truett and Sonny, Anakie didn’t think I was an idiot. However, when I’d brought the kittens in for their vaccinations, I’d mentioned Lancelot. Rex and Brock—Anakie’s other Alpha—had appeared at my house that night and “talked” to him. I didn’t know what had been said, but I assumed it was to tell himthat they could murder him and no one would ever suspect a thing.

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, I didn’t have a lot of time to give instructions, considering I was in the back of a cop car. By the time Truett bailed me out, Lancelot had already patched him up, or I would have brought him in myself.”

Anakie hummed, but listened to Spartacus’s chest and checked his lacerations, giving him the full work-up. I couldn’t do half the rescues I did without her help. I wasn’t an endless fountain of money, despite Citrine giving me a credit card and telling me that I could use it for whatever, whenever. I really didn’t want to take her money. I had a work ethic, even if this wasn’t a typical nine-to-five job.

I worked at a doggy daycare three days a week to pay for most of the food costs for the animals, but medical expenses were another thing altogether. Sonny would probably give me the money in a heartbeat, but I didn’t want to rely on him for that. I’d hate for him to think I was a gold-digger. I’d heard it enough when I was in high school—how my dad was only with Citrine for her money, that we were trash, trying to slither our way into polite society. All that crap.

It was complete bullshit. My dadadoredCitrine. He would love her if she had nothing. He’d lie down on a fire ant nest for her. Fight a grizzly. Even wear a tuxedo.

Finally, Anakie wrapped her stethoscope back around her neck. “He’s in generally good health, considering his lifestyle before you rescued him. I’ll give you antibiotics for his wounds, but you should still keep an eye on them. If they start to weep or smell bad, bring him back. You know the drill.” She peeked around the doorway toward the waiting room, before leaning closer. “Mrs. Pilzner and her schnauzer are out there, so be quick. How’s your stepbrother reacting to your new roommate? I bet that came as a surprise.”

I shrugged, because honestly, Sonny had been pretty chilled out about it. “Not bad. I gave Lancelot a haircut, and he shaved yesterday, which makes him look a lot less…”

“Wild?” she supplied, and I nodded. I swallowed hard, hoping Anakie wouldn’t read too much into it.

More than just looking more civilized, Lancelot now looked handsome. So fucking handsome. Battered and scarred, but instead of making him less attractive, it somehow made him beautiful. Like he was a brass statue that had once been shiny and new, but now he’d patinated into something breathtaking.

I didn’t know his story; I hadn’t pried. But the amount of damage he had on his body, especially his face and chest, told me he’d been through something. That he needed more help than I could give him. It was more than just needing a hand up, a warm place to stay, and food in his belly. It felt like he also needed a professional to heal the wounds festering below the surface.

I knew he was wounded there too. It was in the way he’d watched me last night, his gaze as injured as the skin of his cheeks. And his very fine chest. And abs.

Man, his abs.

“What’s that face?” Anakie asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

I wiped my expression clear. “What face? I better go. I might introduce Spartacus to Gert today, so he has a bit of company.” Gert the goose was grumpy, but she could be a real mother hen when she wanted to be. She’d once adopted two baby birds. And a baby bunny that had appeared from god knows where. I’d even had to steal one of the foster kittens back, after she’d managed to herd it into her nest. She wouldn’t take Spartacus’s shit, but she’d take him in.

Anakie’s snort was sympathetic as she stroked Spartacus’s head. “Good luck, buddy. You’ll need it with that old battle-ax.” We talked a little longer about everyone else’s needs, and I got more kitten formula.

Then, as I was leaving, Rex appeared. “Come for dinner this week. We’ll put something on the grill and have a few beers. You can even bring your mate Lancelot.” He grinned, showing dimples that I knew had suckered Anakie in the first time they met. “We’ll even bake you a cake with a nail file in it… You know, for next time.”

I flipped him the bird, very subtly since there were other people here, and I’d already embarrassed my family enough for one day. “Better come to mine instead, so Anakie and Sophie can get white-girl wasted with me.” Sophie was their Omega. “Besides, Sonny’s staying at my place too, and he’ll be sad if he’s left home alone. Also, my dad got one of those Blackstone things before he left, and I'm pretty sure he said I was supposed to use it.”

Rex looked horrified, muttering about seasoning and regular use, like outdoor cooking was a religion. Shaking my head and promising to call, I paid my bill, got the meds, and headed back to the estate.

After dropping Spartacus back home, I immediately left again to run errands. Lance and Akio weren’t at home, and I tried not to worry. He was a grown-ass, capable man. He didn’t need me to coddle him. It was good that he was leaving the house.

But still, I felt anxious.

I distracted myself by going to the tractor supply store on the outskirts of town to pick up my weekly feed order. I also grabbed a cheesecake from Jill’s CheeseCheeks, which was a bizarre name, but they made a Basque cheesecake that could make you weep tears of joy.

When my phone rang on my trip home, I almost didn’t answer it. Truett’s name flashed across the screen, and I was already rolling my eyes. “Hello, you’ve reached FindingScreamo, South Carolina’s only sex store and bait shop. Unfortunately, we can’t come to the phone right now?—”

“Otillie-James,” he said in an exasperated tone.

I snorted. “Oh, Truett, it’s you. What can I do for you?” I’d never admit it, but I’d always lived for the snarky relationship I had with Sonny’s best friend. He challenged me. He didn’t look at me like I was a vulnerable piece of glass, the way my Dad—and even Sonny—did. He looked at me like I was a honey badger about to gnaw off his hand. I loved that, even if he did drive me insane.

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