“Thomas wants to know what you propose,” Mary said. I hadn’t realized she’d followed me out. She stood beside Gregory. It made sense, I supposed. If Thomas had failed, Gregory would have Claimed her.
“Ask him to join your pack,” I said. “Spare his life if he consents. Give him a chance to understand your beliefs while giving yourself a chance to understand his.”
“Thomas understands the pup’s beliefs well enough,” Mary said. “They were the same beliefs he held until he met you. This whelp has already met you and still will not open his eyes to see what’s before him.”
“And what’s before him, Thomas?”
Mary spoke for him again.
“Certain death. Whether by me or a future without Mates, his way leads to death.”
“I can’t promise there are more like me out there,” I said. In fact, I felt certain there weren’t. “But I want all of you to think on this: Your women are scattered and in hiding for their protection. It makes it hard for you to find and meet them. If we made this place into a true sanctuary, more women like Ann might come. If they can have their children here, and those children grow up here, the Mates you so desperately want will be more accessible. But only if you protect this place and that idea. Sanctuary for your kind.”
No one moved as the challenger shifted from wolf to man. Thomas didn’t shift or adjust his hold on the man’s throat, and empathy welled at the sight of the blood running down his neck.
“I consent to join your pack...for now,” the man rasped.
Thomas growled in response.
How foolish could the man be to throw a half-promise at Thomas like that?
“I will not leave your pack because your pack will fall apart on its own,” the man said. “You and I both know you’re already holding eight to you. How many more do you think you can hold? So, I accept. I’m sure there are a few others who would like to join as well.”
The man sounded too smug. I wanted to ask Mary what he meant about Thomas’s hold and the pack falling apart but couldn’t in front of everyone. So I waited with the rest, watching Thomas.
Thomas’ gaze met mine briefly. Then, he released his hold. He stood on the man’s chest and looked down at him until the man turned his head aside. Satisfied, Thomas trotted away. Another man stepped into his path.
“I’ll join,” he said. He, too, wore a smirk.
“Excuse me,” I said, quickly moving to Thomas’ side. Grey was close beside me. “There will be plenty of time for joining a pack. Right now, the dinner Mary and I made is going to waste. Please, come inside and eat.”
The man glanced at Thomas, who stiffly faced him.
“Later, then.”
Thomas bobbed his head, and I inwardly sighed with relief. Whatever this hold was, it sounded as if it was in danger, and I needed to understand why.
Twelve
No one moved to go inside, so Thomas nudged me forward. As soon as I started walking, Mary joined me. Thomas, Gregory, and Grey fell in right behind us.
Inside, Mary and I went to the stove, and Thomas trotted straight into the bathroom. She and I worked together to haul the water to the tub while Grey and Gregory stood nearby, warily eyeing the outsiders I’d just invited in to eat with us. I paid little attention to the men who were slowly seating themselves.
Thomas stayed out of our way, waiting, as we paced between the stove and the tub.
When I dumped in the last pot, he had six inches of steaming water. Enough to wash in but I knew he’d need extra to rinse. I left the small room once more; and when I returned with a cold pot of water, Thomas wasn’t where he’d been. The door shut behind me. I turned and saw him slowly shifting from his wolf form.
“I’ll just go help Mary,” I said, quickly averting my eyes and setting the pot near the tub.
“Help me,” he said. Blood smeared his face, neck, and legs. Bruises coated his torso. He walked to the tub and stepped in with a grunt. He had my pity. I sighed and turned to grab a few cloths from the washstand. I tossed one to him.
“Cover up first,” I said.
He chuckled, and I blushed; but I refused to look his direction until he complied.
“You can look now.”
I peeked at him then quickly looked away again. The small square of material covered him, but it certainly didn’t lend any modesty to the situation.
“I really would rather someone else help you.”
“Mary put the sewing kit in here. I’d rather you help me.”
His ear. Reluctantly, I faced him. He leaned back in the tub, his legs stretched out with only a slight bend in his knees. The water already had a pink tint to it, and he hadn’t even washed his upper torso or head yet.
Cuts littered his skin, most shallow but a few appeared as if a stitch or two wouldn’t be remiss.
“Fine,” I said. I fetched the bowl from the washstand and dipped it into the tub between his legs.
“Lean forward.”
He leaned forward, and I slowly poured the water over his head. Blood, hidden by his dark hair, trailed down his back. Claw marks scored him, raised paths of red welts occasionally broken by a cut or scrape. Bruises colored his sides. I honestly didn’t know what I could do for him.
I repeated the process, wondering what good it did to rinse with bloody water.
“Can you have Mary heat more water?”
“She already is,” he said wiping a hand across his face and leaning back once more. I set the bowl aside and reached for his right arm. I lifted it to the edge of the tub. He did the same with the other arm. It gave me a better view of his ribs and chest and everything that needed some type of aid.
“I can’t stitch you,” I said, sitting back on my heels. “I’m horrible at regular sewing, and the thought of poking a needle through skin...” I shuddered. “Please let Mary help you.”
He sighed, sunk lower in the tub, and laid his head back. “Not Mary.”
Someone knocked on the door a moment before it opened.
“Hello, Charlene,” Grey said, stepping in.
“Hi, Grey.” I stood, moved away from the tub, and considered the door for a moment.
“Stay, Charlene,” Thomas said as if sensing my thoughts. “I don’t trust you out there alone.”
“All right.” I knew it was the men he didn’t trust, not me.
Grey grabbed the sewing kit from the washstand and came to join me by the tub. He looked his brother over and chuckled at the square of cloth in Thomas’ lap.
“Just the ear, I think,” Grey said.
“Are you sure? He has a large cut on his thigh, and his neck has several holes.”
“Those will knit together quickly. Barely a scar. The ear is different. The cartilage makes healing more difficult.” He threaded the needle and used alcohol on everything.
Thomas made a small noise between his teeth when the needle pierced his skin. My stomach roiled, and I looked away.
The knuckles of Thomas’ hand were bloody. I took one of the cloths, dipped it in the cold rinse water, and gently started to clean away the red. His hand turned, catching mine. His thumb brushed over the top of my fingers. I couldn’t look up and meet his gaze, not with Grey sewing his ear.
I watched Thomas’ thumb until Grey stood.
“I’ll leave you to finish,” he said. The door closed behind him.
“I can finish on my own,” Thomas said, his thumb never stilling. “The room is clear of everyone but Mary and Grey. Go eat.”
I still couldn’t look at him. I nodded and stood, and he let my hand go.
“Save me some food if there’s enough,” he said as I walked toward the door. I looked over my shoulder and saw him gently touching his ear.