Page 45 of Captive Mate
I woke, blinking slowly, to shafts of early-morning sunlight filtering rosy-gold through a set of dusty blinds. I was on a couch, not a bed, but it was a pretty comfortable couch, and I stretched just like the cat I was, arms over my head and toes pointed.
Fuck, that felt good, working out all the kinks from being clawed and kidnapped and flung into a tree and then healing it all.
I propped myself up on my elbows and looked around.
Under the window with the blinds was a bed, and in that bed was Nate, curled up with only the top of his head and part of his face peeking out, with a mound of quilts on top of him. I only had the one blanket, but fair enough; shifters ran warmer than humans. And I was guessing it was overprotective Ian who’d tucked him in.
Speaking of Ian. A shower was running in the background. It was probably Ian getting into it that had woken me. There was a closed door near the foot of the couch, and the sound was coming from there.
This must be Ian’s little house, then, where he lived separate from the rest of the pack. The place was shabby but homey, and it was fucking quiet. I didn’t blame him. I wouldn’t mind living in a place like this.
But it wasn’t my place, and I needed to get going. Find Matthew, find Colin, find out what the fuck had happened the night before. Someone had taken off my boots and set them by the couch, so all I really had to do was pull them on.
The shower shut off while I was rolling my way off the couch.
A moment later Ian stepped out in a pair of old plaid boxers and a white t-shirt. I hated to admit that the look totally fucking worked for him — although I’d have gone another few rounds with claws and a tree-trunk before I admitted it out loud.
More than anything, I was nearly drooling with envy. His red hair was sticking up in damp clumps, droplets of fresh, clean water trickled down his neck and legs, and there wasn’t a trace of blood or dirt on him. I felt like I had half the forest floor stuck to me, not to mention the dried blood gluing the remains of my clothes to my skin.
“How’s Nate?” I asked him.
For the first time, Ian smiled at me. Actuallysmiled, and not a mocking or nasty smile. It was…friendly. Fucking weird. I hardly recognized him.
“I think he’s fine. I got him to wake up and wiggle his toes and everything.” The sheer, overwhelming relief in his tone explained the smile, I guessed.
And I found myself smiling back. “Good. I’ll check him out again before I leave, just in case, okay? And in the meantime — I’d kill for a shower. If I can borrow another set of Nate’s clothes.”
“You can have anything in this house,” Ian said earnestly. “Up to and including one of my kidneys.”
“Any good spell really requires both of them,” I said without thinking.
Ian laughed. He fucking laughed. And then, as I stared at him slack-jawed, he strolled over to the scratched, unvarnished dresser against the wall and pulled out a long-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of jeans, tossing them over his shoulder onto the couch.
After a second of rummaging, he turned around, holding a pair of socks. “These,” Ian said seriously, waving them at me, “are the best fucking socks you will ever wear in your life. Nate’s made a couple of pairs for me.” He blushed. “Um, long story. They’re waterproof, bulletproof, and kick harder than steel-toed boots. Also, they’re warm as hell.”
He brought them over and set them down on the coffee table with a flourish, like he was presenting me with a gold watch for my years of service.
Socks. Well, I’d been given stranger things, and these were obviously important to Ian.
I picked them up carefully and took a look. They were full of magic; I could tell that at a touch, and I’d have been able to see it if I’d bothered. I was still magically worn out from the night before, though.
“Thanks. I’m — uh, I’m really — honored.” Was that the right response to being given a pair of enchanted black cotton socks?
Apparently it was close enough, because Ian nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Help yourself to whatever’s in the bathroom.”
I escaped in there with Nate’s clothes, including the socks, and took him at his word. He had surprisingly nice shampoo. My long hair used up a lot of it. I used the time I spent working it through all the tangles to brood over Matthew dumping me off here with Ian and Nate and not even bothering to check on me in the morning.
I stuffed my filthy clothes into the bathroom trash and stepped out clean, refreshed, and in an incredibly foul mood.
Ian was puttering around making coffee, and Nate was still dead to the world. But not dead, and that lifted my spirits a little.
“If you want to fill me in on what happened last night I can just take off from here,” I told Ian. “My car’s still where I left it, right?”
I sat down on the couch and started to lace up my boots.
Ian paused his coffee-making to frown at me. “Long story short, Colin Kimball took over his pack and ousted his father. And you need to take that spell off of Matt before you go anywhere,” he said. “I mean, come on, he killed that asshole who was after you. We’re not holding you prisoner. After you saved Nate’s life, I owe you mine, and I’d defend you to the death no matter what water’s under the bridge. We’re your allies, even if you’re not ours. So take off the damn spell, okay? You’re not gaining anything by leaving it on him. You don’t need an insurance policy.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake… “It’s already —” I cut off with a sigh. Why fucking bother? I’d end up having to see Matthew anyway. And…maybe I had to for my own sake, so I could see his indifference to me and let it really sink in. “I’ll go over to the pack house before I leave.”
