Page 79 of Campfires & Canines
We slow on the stairs, but he follows me all the way down. Someone else closes the door behind us and I hear the lock click.
He drops his hand and trudges to the bathroom. I follow him in. He unbuttons his shirt and pulls out the familiar first aid kit.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble.
His cool aqua eyes regard me for a moment before he returns to cleaning the small cut.
“Here, let me.” I can’t help it. I take the butterfly bandages from him and apply one end below the cut. Pressing the skin down, I place the other end, so it holds the wound shut.
He follows it with a large Band-Aid.
Finally, he speaks. “That’s not going to help our case.”
“So I should lie down and be a good girl?” I say with venom.
He looks exhausted. “You’d prefer to spend the rest of your days locked down here?”
“No, I want to get home to my real mate,” I say. I look for any hint of sympathy, but he’s closed off.
“I’ll let you get some rest,” he says, turning away.
He drops his ruined shirt into the trash can and trudges to the living space, flopping onto the sofa and throwing an arm over his eyes.
“Aren’t you leaving?” I ask.
“No.”
Great.
“I’d prefer you left,” I argue. “Aren’t you worried I’ll try to kill you in your sleep?”
With a groan, he sits up and looks at me over the back of the sofa.
“Really?” He smirks at me, though the warmth doesn’t reach his eyes. “If we want to convince anyone you’re warming up to me, we need to spend more time together.”
“Ugh.” I wrinkle my nose and pull the bathroom door closed.
I clumsily brush out my hair and brush my teeth. Then I change from the dress into a t-shirt and leggings.
In my temporary bedroom, I carefully lock the door and tug the handle to make sure it’s secure. Exhaustion weighs my movements. I settle on top of the covers and wince. It takes ages to position my wrist in a way that isn’t agony. But I’m exhausted, and I sleep like the dead.
Slate
Heath stands in the center of the training room, his arms folded. The Thetas and Zetas stand loosely around him.
"Elm, Cassia, Aven, take the outside border. Vale and Lazuli, go over the trail again. See if we missed anything."
They bow their heads and head towards the lockers to stow their clothes before shifting.
"Hawthorne, contact Cashel and Nyx again. I need to talk to them as soon as possible."
He eyes me. "Slate, take internal patrol."
"Send me to the border." It escapes my mouth before I can think better. "Or let me take a car and follow the trail past Ironcrest. I know I can track her."
We both know it isn't true. There's no unique scent to follow. They used a car, something we weren't prepared for. It's not how wolves operate. And wolves certainly don’t use guns.
"No," he admonishes me.
