Page 9 of Lost Wolf (Exiled Omegas #2)

Nine

???

Something cold and wet brushes against my skin and I peek out through the small gap between my arms. A large reddish-brown wolf stands there, the scent surrounding him familiar. Pine and musk and fur.

The man from the chair… this is his wolf form.

The desire to touch him tingles at my fingertips, but that ingrained fear is still there, and I can’t seem to make myself move. My lip trembles and my eyes burn, my body unsure what to do even as those parts of me I don't understand tell me the wolf in front of me is safety, security, and home.

The wolf takes a half step backward and sits down on his haunches, holding my gaze. He simply stares at me, not moving any closer, as if waiting for me to come to him. I slowly drop my arms and meet his eyes, more comfortable doing that now that he’s in a form more familiar to me.

Well, familiar in that it’s one he shares with me.

The wolf cocks his head to the side, and I inch my hand toward him, the action more reflex than thought. He lowers his head under my palm and nudges me into petting him. The slip-slide of his soft, shiny fur under my fingers is a strange, but pleasant sensation.

He chuffs and scoots closer, resting his chin on my bent knees, almost mimicking my earlier actions when I rested my head on his thigh. He pauses for a beat and, when I don't move away, he leans his body fully against my legs and licks the side of my face, cleaning away the tears I hadn't realized had been falling. He whines and licks me again.

My head is still so foggy, my mind spinning with a combination of dizziness and confusion, but I know somehow that this wolf—this alpha —won’t hurt me. He’s something special, and once my head clears, I’ll be able to figure out exactly what.

Hopefully.

But for now, I’ll happily take the comfort he offers.

It’s been a long time since I felt truly safe.

I press my face against his fur and wrap my arms around his neck, burying my nose in his fur, and take a deep breath. His scent is there, but this stupid human nose doesn’t pick it up as well as I’d like. I want to bury myself in that smell and roll around in it until I’m covered in nothing but him.

The wolf allows me to hug him tightly for a few minutes before stepping out of my arms and studying my face. Cocking his head to the side again, he seems to weigh his options before taking a step backward, his gaze still locked on me, as if willing me to stay in place.

The air around him shimmers and the wolf disappears, the man from the chair taking his place. But now the man is without clothes, vulnerable like me, and the wolf is in his eyes, confident and reassuring. He doesn't move, simply holds my gaze as if waiting to make sure I'm not going to run again.

“Hey there, little one,” he says after a few beats. His voice is a balm on my nerves, the syllables wrapping me in warmth and comfort. “I don't know what happened to you, but you don't have to be afraid. You're safe now.” He pauses as if debating with himself, and his next words are softer, almost whispered. “I won't let anything happen to you.”

The strange thing is, I believe him. His words ring with a truth I can't explain, and every instinct I have tells me he’s safe.

He reaches out to me, palm up, and waits, his gaze still holding mine. I match the gesture, placing my hand in his, and he smiles, the brightness of the expression crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“Why don't we get off the floor?” he asks. “The bed is more comfortable than the hardwood.”

I nod and the man helps me to my feet, my human legs shaking underneath my weight. I allow him to lead me to the bed, my eyes fixed on his as if losing that connection would mean drowning in fear again. He sits on the edge, drawing me down next to him, then leans over and yanks on the blankets, pulling the top one over to cover both of our laps.

He glances at me, one corner of his mouth quirking upward. “I know as shifters we’re supposed to be comfortable with nudity, but having conversations while naked is not really my thing.”

I nod again. I don’t even remember the last time I had a conversation, but as scattered as my mind still feels, I doubt my mouth will be contributing much. The words are there, in my head, but there’s a strange disconnect between that and my mouth, as if I don’t remember how to use human vocal cords.

He rests his hand palm up on the blanket-covered thigh closest to me and gives me an encouraging smile. My eyes dart from his hand to his face and back again, then I hesitantly reach out and rest my hand in his. His smile widens and he gently curls his fingers around mine, leaving his grip loose enough that I could pull away if I wanted to.

But I don't want to. Which is odd, right?

“I’m not sure how much you remember from earlier when I helped you shift, but my name's Luke,” he says.

Nope. I don't remember that, but it’s a nice name, and now I can label him in my head. Even better, if he helped me shift to human, he’ll know how I can go back to my wolf form.

He looks at me, brows rising expectantly as if waiting for me to fill the silence. After a few seconds, his brows pull together and he frowns. “Can you tell me your name?”

My mouth opens, but any sound freezes in my throat.

Not that I could tell him what I can’t remember anyway.

I whine and shake my head instead, my gaze falling to the floor and my shoulders hunching toward my ears as if preparing for a blow.

A pained expression crosses his face, but he quickly wipes it away and makes a soft, soothing sound. “It's okay. It’s not a big deal. We’ll figure it out.”

Relief washes over me, and I stop trying to shove through the fog in my head. All I’m doing is giving myself a headache anyway.

He angles himself toward me, his free hand rising to cup my face. He runs his thumb along my cheekbone, a sad smile on his lips.

“Do you want to take a shower? Get clean? It might help you feel better, clear your head.” His hand runs over my hair, fingers catching in the knots. “I could cut this for you if you want. Or Macy—the woman who came in earlier, she’s my second—could braid it?”

I grab a length of my hair and pull it forward, my eyes crossing as I study the white blond strands almost as pale as my fur. I'm not sure how it works, but my wolf form doesn't have long hair like this. Either way, I wouldn’t mind getting it out of my face.

I nod at Luke, and he stands, gently pulling me to my feet and pointing me toward the door opposite the one his second came through earlier. When I don't move, he tugs the blanket off the bed and wraps it around my shoulders before leading me to the door and pushing it open.

Inside, there's a vanity with a double sink, a toilet, and a large soaking tub in front of a window looking out over the yard. My eyes almost bug out of my head. The tub alone is bigger than the cage the humans kept me in, and something tells me even before then I didn’t have this kind of luxury.

Luke glances around the room and frowns. “No shower.” He points at the tub. “Is a bath okay?”

I wrinkle my nose, the memory of the place I was before playing through my mind. I cross my arms and mimic shivering, then raise my brows in question.

“No, I’ll make sure it’s not cold,” says Luke, that strange frown curling his lips again as he studies my face.

I nod and let him lead me over to the closed toilet where he sits me down. He turns to the tub, twisting the shiny knobs and holding his fingers under the stream of water that comes out. A few adjustments later, he smiles and plucks a rubber stopper off the ledge, using it to plug the drain at the bottom of the tub. He grabs a bottle from the ledge and pours a good helping of whatever is inside into the stream of water and a layer of bubbles forms.

Once the tub is full, Luke holds a hand out to me and steadies me as I slide the blanket off my shoulders and step inside. I carefully sit down and stretch my legs out, the warm water soothing away the lingering aches in my joints.

I sink into the blissful warmth, the chill I've had for I'm not sure how long washing away beneath the heat of the water. Closing my eyes, I rest my back against the edge of the tub, a smile curling my lips even as my eyes begin to burn again.

A hot, relaxing bath. This was the kind of thing I didn't know to miss. How many other things have I missed out on? How many other things did they take from me?

“I'll leave you to it then,” says Luke, a hint of awkwardness in his voice.

My eyes fly open and I grab his arm, shaking my head firmly. There's something about Luke’s presence that calms and soothes the jagged pieces of my soul, and I don’t want him to leave.

I don’t want to be alone.

“I guess I'll stay then,” he says slowly, glancing down to where my fingers are digging into his skin. He leans over and grabs a towel, wrapping it around his waist before settling himself on to the tile beside the tub, his arm still locked within my grip.

After a few long moments he lets out a quiet chuckle. “You won't get clean just sitting there.” He points to the row of bottles on the ledge. “You'll need to use some soap.” I give him a blank stare and he continues, “It's designed for shifters. The smell won't be too strong.”

I wrinkle my nose, thinking of the horrid smelling stuff they used to wash me with before. My human nose might not be as sensitive as my wolf’s but it’s still better than a normal human’s sense of smell.

Luke smiles at whatever expression must be on my face and moves up to his knees before reaching for one of the bottles. He holds it out to me. “Shampoo,” he says. “For your hair.”

My gaze darts to the bottle, then to Luke and he sighs. He clicks open the top and pours some of the contents into his palm, holding it up to my face. Leaning forward, I take a delicate sniff, then shrug.

It doesn’t smell awful or anything, I guess.

He adds a little water and rubs his hands together, creating suds. “Lean back and I’ll wash your hair.”

I follow his instructions and his fingers gently thread through the tangles of my hair and rub at my scalp. Oh, that’s nice.

I close my eyes. A humming noise escapes my throat and my eyes fly back open, my gaze darting to Luke’s face, carefully cataloging his reaction. He only smiles softly and continues that delicious scratching at my scalp as he works the soap into a lather.

“It's okay,” he says. “You can talk when you're ready. I'm not going to pressure you.”

My lips curl into a smile and Luke's eyes darken a little and dart down to my mouth. Warmth curls in my stomach, the feeling somewhat foreign, but not unwelcome.