Page 27 of Master Wolf
Lindsay turned and pointed at him. “Sit there and don’t move while I do this.”
He sat himself down at the dressing table for the operation, pouring water into the washing bowl from the ewer, then laying out scissors and a large square of muslin. The dressing table was, as Wynne had said, crowded with jars and bottles, including a smallish bottle that—while it looked grey to Drew’s wolf eyes—was probably the blue one Wynne had mentioned that contained the Wolfsbane tincture. It struck him as a bluish sort of grey.
So typical of humans, to describe everything according to human senses and expect everyone else to understand. Drew gave a canine huff, causing Lindsay to glance up briefly with a puzzled frown before returning his attention to his arm.
Slowly, methodically, Lindsay worked. He had turned away a little so Drew couldn’t see much of what he was doing, but he did see Lindsay carefully laying the snipped-through bandages and the dried-up pieces of poultice inside the muslin square. Once Lindsay had removed all of it, he fastened the muslin square up into a secure bundle and got up to set it on the fire.
He returned to the dressing table then and set about washing his arm. Drew couldn’t see what he was doing but he noticed Lindsay wincing from time to time as he worked. Finally, he wrapped the limb in a fresh bandage and got up from his chair. He didn’t come back to the bed though. Instead he fetched a large copper kettle from the fireplace and carried it back to the dressing table. He poured the used water from the washing bowl inside the kettle, replaced the lid and carried the kettle back the fireplace. Then he dried the bowl off with another bit of muslin and deposited that and the bundle of used bandages on the fire.
“We have to be careful disposing of the waste,” he told Drew, turning back to him. “Humans are even more sensitive to Wolfsbane than us.” He seemed suddenly shy. “So. What now?”
By way of answer, Drew stood, moving so that the side of the bed Lindsay had been sleeping on was free again. He dipped his head at the mattress.
Lindsay’s lips twisted. “I’m to come back to bed, am I?” He didn’t argue though—he crossed the floor and obediently climbed back in.
It felt good to have him like this, quiet and quiescent. There had been so much conflict between them over the years. It was a relief to be in harmony for once.
Once Lindsay was laid down, Drew studied him. He looked better already, and it had only been minutes since he’d removed the Wolfsbane.
“Are you leaving now?” Lindsay asked. His gaze was soft, his voice wistful.
If he’d been in his human skin, Drew might have been flustered by that, unsure how to respond. He’d probably have said yes, that it was past time he was off. But his wolf self was made of different stuff. His wolf, in fact, considered it an asinine question and not worthy of a response. Drew turned his body three times, following his own tail, then sank down onto the mattress at Lindsay’s side, settling his big head on Lindsay’s thigh.
Lindsay let out a soft huff of surprise. “You’re staying?”
Drew just yawned, closed his eyes and went to sleep.
Chapter Eight
When Drew awoke,it was dawn and he was human again—human and naked, his head still on Lindsay’s thigh. He sat up abruptly, staring down at a still-sleeping Lindsay in horror, his heart pounding. What was he doing here? What had his wolf been thinking to come here last night?
Lindsay didn’t stir.
Drew’s heart began to slow. He took the opportunity to study Lindsay. It was something he’d rarely had the chance to do over the years, so he watched Lindsay’s sleeping face for a long time. That familiar, beautiful, infuriating face. Drew’s fingertips itched to touch him but he resisted the urge, curling his fingers into his palms and clenching his hands into fists.
At length, his gaze dropped, trailing over the too-sharp collarbones and the too-visible ribs, and finally snagging on that bandaged left arm. Lindsay hadn’t done the new bandage up tightly enough and the end had come loose as he slept. Drew knew he shouldn’t do it, but he found himself reaching forward and pushing the slack fabric looped around Lindsay’s forearm aside to expose what it hid.
He blanched at the sight.
Lindsay’s inner forearm was deeply ulcerated, the flesh red and raw and painful-looking.
This was the gateway for the poison he was giving himself.
“Don’t look at it!” Lindsay suddenly hissed, snatching his arm up to his chest. His voice was scratchy with sleep.
“It looks painful,” Drew said slowly. Human speech felt awkward in his mouth after his shift. “Is that what the Wolfsbane does to you?”
“Amongst other things,” Lindsay said tightly, sitting up and shifting slightly to hide his arm as he wrapped the bandage back around it with sharp, jerky movements. When he was finished, and he turned back to meet Drew’s eyes, his own were bleak.
Drew knew he should say something, but he found speaking difficult after a shift. And besides, Lindsay took his breath away, sitting there, bare-chested in the dawn light. Even frail and too thin as he was, he was still the most beautiful man Drew had ever known. The painful concern that gripped Drew as he took in Lindsay’s spare frame warred with an almost desperate lust.
How could anxiety and desire coincide like this? Surely he should feel one or the other? And why did he feel so saturated with sadness and regret at the thought of Lindsay’s wolf being suppressed? Drew was being given everything he’d ever wanted, wasn’t he? The eradication of the bond he’d always resented.
Abruptly, Lindsay dropped his gaze and turned away to stiffly rise from the bed. As he had done last night, he crossed to the dressing table, opening one of the drawers and rummaging inside. He drew out a clean square of linen and laid it out.
“What are you doing?” Drew said warily.
“I need to reapply the poultice,” Lindsay said flatly without glancing up.