Page 136 of Untamed

I turn from the window to see Pup sitting in the far corner of the room.

"You shouldn't be here," he snaps harshly. "Unless you're here to tell me that you're leaving my brother for me."

I tilt my head to the side, just staring at him. He chokes out a laugh as I take a good, hard look at him. He's thinner than just yesterday, with dark circles under his haunted eyes. His skin is pale, with red lines marking his cheeks where he must have raked his nails down his skin.

He's wearing a pair of shorts, clean ones, but underneath his skin is filthy. Around his lips, twisted into an ugly sneer, is my dried blood.

"Can't wipe it off," he says huskily, seeing where my gaze has landed.

"He's clinging to you," a young stranger states quietly from his post in the corner. I tilt my head, my she-wolf, and I examine this stranger. Green, tired eyes, powerful, an alpha, but… nothing is threatening about him. "Trying to hold onto you as long as he can." I don't know if Young Alpha is here as a friend or foe. All I know is that Pup needs help. He needs me.

He needs my Mactiir.

The Dark is swirling inside him, the moon's Dark face turns towards her male in loving concern, but her eyes are overshadowed by that malignant, cold bitch. And it's her time, the Blood Moon. Her light is shining. Pup must wait to feel better.

"Stand up," I tell Pup. Reaching out, I take his hand in mine. For all his anger and fury, his hand is limp in mine.

"No, don’t touch him, Luna." Young Alpha takes a step forward.

"Stay away from me!" Pup yells at him, suddenly frantic.

"Come with me," I pull Pup's attention back to me, pulling him to his feet, steadying him as he sways. "You need to clean up, Pup."

"Call me something else," he begs, following me into the bathroom with clumsy feet.

"I will name you something when you stop being a pup," I tell him.

He laughs weakly. It chokes off when I carefully take my dress off. It's ugly blue, but I don't want to ruin it, for Purple's sake.

"Luna," comes the low warning from Young Alpha.

"I will bathe him," I tell the agitated male.

"He may try to take you," Young Alpha explains carefully, his eyes full of warning towards Pup. "To fuck and Claim you. Your male won't like this."

"This is balance," I tell the Young Alpha. "It will be what it must be."

"Very cryptic," is his response. He looks calm, watchful. This male will be someone of great importance one day. When Pup is not a pup, and Young Alpha isn't so young.

"You are so beautiful," Pup says softly. He is leaning against the shower wall, not moving into the spray of water but not leaving it, either. His dark eyes, eyes as dark as the Moon's blindness, stare at me.

I ignore those eyes and begin to wash him, head to toe, but ignoring his secret place. I kneel, washing his feet, his filthy, bloody feet, clucking over the bleeding soles.

"You shouldn't be doing this," Pup rasps out. "You don't understand, Willa." I do understand, of course. I have been in this position with my Mactiir. I don't tell him that.

I stand. His hand is wrapped around his knobby stick, fingers white. His tip is red, inflamed, and angry from the tight grip he has.

"You're hurting yourself," I say softly.

"Not as bad as I hurt you," is his blunt reply.

He moves, just his head, his lips hovering near mine. "My Mark is fading," he says sadly. "It's eating my soul, kitty-cat."

I move my face away, and his lips land on my cheek. A soft sob rips from his gut.

Walnut eyes meet mine.

Mactiir steps into the shower silently, a massive male to Pup's youthful thinness.

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