Page 33 of Redeemed Wolf

“Carter? Hey, baby, listen to me,” I said firmly, pulling him back so I could get a look into his eyes. “Did you take something? Did your dad give you something? Pills or an injection?”

“Mm,” he grunted, frowning as he struggled to think. “Yeah, pills. Always pills… They make me feel bad.”

“I know, sweetheart.” I looked around to see if anyone else was watching. There was nothing I could do about the cameras now. I couldn’t leave him like this. “Come with me, okay? I need to get you home.”

“My home or yours?” He looked up at me with this dreamy expression.

I cupped his cheek, stroking my thumb over his pale, clammy skin. “Whichever one you want.”

He sighed, his eyes drifting shut as he leaned heavily on me. “I want to be wherever you are.”

That sounded just fine to me. I started walking us toward where I’d parked my car, his shoes making a scraping sound against the pavement with each step.

“But… what about my car?” he asked, looking around. He made a weak attempt to pull away, but with my arm around his waist to help him walk, he soon gave up.

“There’s no way you can drive like this. It’s worse than drunk driving.”

“Okay.” That was the last word he said, and he got progressively heavier in my arms, almost like he was falling asleep standing up.

I was glad he trusted me to take care of him, but fury simmered in my veins. How could Eric do this? Was it all in the name of his “science”? Was he looking for a way to suppress Carter’s wolf?

It took some juggling to get the door open and to lower Carter into the passenger seat. I buckled him in and leaned the seat back a bit, his head lolling on the headrest.

On the way out of the gate, Greg leaned down to look in the window. His face was pinched. “Is that Dr. Taylor’s son?”

I took a deep bracing breath. “Yeah. He’s too sick to drive. I’m gonna take him home.”

Greg speared me with a strange look and lowered his voice as he asked, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You don’t want to get messed up in all that.”

The steering wheel creaked dangerously beneath my clenched fists. “I can’t do nothing, Greg!” I snapped. “Don’t you think we’ve all turned a blind eye for too long? Any word from Melissa?” It was a low blow, and I knew it.

Greg flinched at the gut shot and pushed off from the car. “Fine. Do what you want, but don’t blame me when it blows up in your face. If Dr. Taylor asks, I’ll tell him.”

“Be my guest,” I snapped.

I drove off, heading straight for home. I didn’t know the first thing about what was wrong with Carter, but he needed me, and there was no way in hell I was going to turn my back on my mate. What kind of alpha would that make me?

My mind drifted back to my pack at home. They didn’t need or want me to lead them, but Grim Wilds needed me. Jude and Amelia and Isaac… and Carter, they needed me.

Pacey must’ve heard me coming down the hall, because he opened the apartment door for me, standing back so I could carry Carter through. “Pacey, I’m gonna need you to run to the store for me. Lots of fresh meat and vegetables,” I instructed. It was a flimsy plan at best, but when I thought of caring and providing for my mate, I thought of feeding him.

“Yeah, sure. What else?” he asked, already slipping on his boots.

I paused, looking back over my shoulder at him. “And maybe call home. See if Grandma has any suggestions about what couldbe wrong with him.” Grandma was our code word for Vesta, the pack’s shaman. If anyone could help Carter, it was her.

While Pacey ran to the store for me, I carried Carter into the bathroom and got a bath started. He stirred at the sound of the tub filling. “What are you…” he tried to ask.

“I’m taking care of you,” I murmured, brushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead. “You’re going to have a bath, okay?”

He nodded obediently and sat still while I peeled his clothes off, one article at a time. His shirt clung to him, the fabric damp. I’d never seen a shifter sweat quite like this before. It was almost like his body was going through a detox, trying to purge whatever he’d been pumped full of.

My wolf whined in my head, prowling back and forth, helpless to do anything but begging me to try anyway.

“Up we go,” I whispered, lifting him gently and lowering him into the tub. He flinched as if the water burned him, but then his teeth began to chatter. “Carter?”

“It’s… so cold,” he stammered, though I could see the steam rising off the water’s surface.

I added some hot water, as much as I dared, but he couldn’t seem to stop shaking. “To hell with this,” I growled before climbing into the tub with him, clothes and all. Water spilled over the edge, slopping across the floor, but as soon as I moved in behind him, with my legs bracketing him tightly in the narrow tub, my arms around him, he seemed to relax.

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