Midnight Wolves

Chapter Sixteen: Left

She'd fallen asleep in the chair, in possibly the world's most uncomfortable position. So, rather than being graceful as she woke to find him watching her with drowsy confusion, she cursed, stretched and winced as something clicked deep in her spine. Her rib protested, just a little. Her wounds were nearly healed thought she knew the bruises around her throat remained as they'd been inflicted by a wolf rather than by a rotten step.

She gave him a lopsided grin and passed him a glass of water, which he took despite the frown burrowed into his forehead.

"What happened?" he asked weakly.

"You didn't clean the wound out properly. Still had silver in it. I told you to let me look at it sooner."

He shrugged, not interested. "You didn't run."

Callie shrugged, feigning as much disinterest as he'd shown about his health. "You were injured. You needed help."

"You should have run."

Callie was surprised by the bitterness in his tone. She frowned at him as he pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he did so.

"Yeh well, your wolf wants to keep me. My wolf wants to keep you healthy." She said, referencing their conversation from the night before.

Midnight stopped making his way across the room and it was his wolf that watched her now, as his eyes glazed over in yellow. The look he gave her cut straight through her, calling to her wolf, but Callie kept her leashed.

"You should be careful what you say," his wolf growled in the man's voice, low and rough against her senses. Callie suppressed a shudder and shrugged, hiding the rising heat on her face by pushing past him and heading for the kitchen.

She didn't look at him as she placed a pot of water on the stove to make coffee. He didn't comment on the fact that she was making herself at home, and had obviously looked through his cupboards as she seamlessly busied herself around the kitchen.

"I didn't betray you, you know," she said, the intensity of his gaze on her back making her antsy.

He sighed irritably. "I know."

"I was sent here to get something, that's all. I had no idea what they were going to do."

His curiosity peaked, he headed towards her and took a seat at the small kitchen table. While she'd made the coffee, he'd fetched the chair she'd abandoned in the bedroom. It sat beside his and she carefully slid on to it, placing a cup of coffee in front of him as she did so.

"A document. The deed, to this land." She couldn't look at him as she said it. Guilt coiled in her stomach and only now did she consider what taking that document actually meant: Kicking him out of his home.

And the shack, although not much, was his. His one bit of comfort that she got the impression he didn't use much, probably preferring to be in his wolf form in the meadows surrounding it, but it was his. His sanctuary during the winter, his shelter during the rain. His home, and she was asking him to give it up.

And for some reason she cared. For this stranger - the one that had so far done nothing but hurt her, and tend to her wounds and feed her - even if it was gruel. Who her wolf wouldn't let her leave.

He stood without a word, and she braced herself for whatever he was going to do. Maybe he'd march straight into her uncle's territory and kill him on sight for suggesting that he wanted his territory. Maybe he'd killed her.

A cupboard opened, closed and he returned. A folded piece of paper hit the table in front of her. She looked up at him in shock as he retook his seat and took a long sip of coffee, his eyes watching her over the top of the mug.