Page 9 of Witchblood

“Hmm,” Liam said again, that non-committal sound, like he was humoring me. He dried me off, then himself before wrapping the towel around his waist. That was a little unfair. Most wolves weren’t modest, and normally I wasn’t either, but he was attractive and I was one big bruise. The huge mirror over the sink reflected just how bad I looked. My back was a patchwork of colors and not from tattoos. The entire left side of my face was swollen and angry purple. My hair looked dark brown when wet, but at least it didn’t feel crusty anymore. It was just a tangled mess, and my scalp still hurt.

“You need a better witch,” I grumbled at him as he carefully peeled the plastic off the stitches. My own spells should have healed most of the bruising unless my time was really off. “How long was I out?”

He put a clean towel around my waist, finally covering me. At least I wasn’t hard. Just one big bruise. The towel irritated my stitches a little. “Three days, give or take a few hours.”

How was that possible? Three days of sleep should have healed just about anything short of death for me. And three days was a lot of time to lose. There was no way that Felix hadn’t caught up by now, not while I was among werewolves. Was he waiting until I let my guard down? Why hadn’t he just taken me while I’d slept?

“That’s not possible. I should have healed better than this, especially with the help of a decent healing witch.”

“My witch was more focused on your head and spine than the bruises.” He lifted me, this time in more of a bridal style carry, which I wanted to protest, but being lifted made my head swim and stomach lurch.

“Fuck,” I muttered. I tucked my face into his shoulder to keep from throwing up. His skin was nice, deliciously hot, and smelling of soap and fresh skin. Why did I want to touch him so badly even when I felt like shit?

“The wolf cracked your spine in three places and punctured your skull. You lost a lot of blood. You were barely alive by the time we got you to her. My healer did fine. But even she is not a miracle worker. Some you’ll have to heal on your own. Slower, yes, but safer.”

“How am I still alive?” I asked, feeling small. All the aches and pains made sense now. The memory of blood seeping over my vision hadn’t been just a dream. And the hot burn in my guts had been a near fatal stomach wound that their witch must have disinfected and healed as I felt no fog of septic blood running through my veins. My spine throbbed as though it had been rung out like a sponge and left to slowly flop back into shape. On my own, I’d have been dead. None of my spells were strong enough to heal that sort of damage. Not even my forbidden spell. I owed Liam and his witch a lot. What would they demand in return?

Back in the small room I’d been given, the bedding was changed to more than just a simple sheet, now it was a heap of pillows and soft looking comforters. There was a tray of food on the top of the dresser. My stomach churned. I was starving, but nauseous. Never a good combination.

“I suspect your resilience has a lot to do with your upbringing. The Volkov is not known to be an easy man, though his affection for his children is legendary.” Liam set me carefully into the chair.

“I’m not really his,” I reminded Liam.

“Does that mean he was less strict? Perhaps let you get away with more than the pack?”

I laughed lightly. “Hell no. I got a D on a math test once and he flipped. Made Oberon tutor me the whole semester.” Oberon wasApa’s first son. He was also a master at finances, business, and computer technology. If Oberon wanted to find you, he could hack into those new traffic cameras everywhere until he found you like some villain in a superhero movie. I’d been worried about him for a while. Had thought we were friends. But even Oberon wouldn’t be able to defy the Volkov. Only there had been no sign of Oberon. I had also avoided modern technology like the plague.

“I heard Oberon invested your allowance.” Liam pulled a small tray out from beside the dresser, popped it open to reveal a table of sort, and set the food on it. “Eat.”

I stared at the plate. Heaping with eggs, bacon, sausage, and biscuits, it looked amazing. There was a separate plate filled with fresh berries, a glass of milk and a second of orange juice. I couldn’t have eaten it all if I had been feeling well and starved two days. But I picked up the fork and willed my stomach to ease.

“He did,” I told Liam about Oberon. “Turned my weekly five-dollar allowance into ten thousand before I turned sixteen.” That money had been what I’d used to buy the camper and start my own little tea shop when I dropped out of school. I wondered ifApahad been angry with Oberon for helping me gain freedom. Oberon had become a little scarcer around then, but I’d also begun dating Felix at the same time.

Liam opened the top drawer of the dresser, pulling out clothes, sweats and a t-shirt. Standard werewolf one-size fits all clothes. He pulled them on, then opened the second drawer to find a brush and a comb. He glanced my way and appeared to notice I hadn’t touched the food.

“Eat,” Liam said again. This time there was some force behind his word. If I’d have been a wolf I’d have had to listen to his command. Even not being a wolf I felt the power thrum through me.

“Little nauseous,” I said, offering the only excuse I had for the picking.

He stared at me for a minute with a frown, set the brush down and reached for my hand, again pressing some sort of nerve point that eased my stomach. I studied the placement of his fingers this time, and rubbed my hand when he let go. He picked up the brush again and went to work on my hair. It was probably a snarled mess from the fight and two weeks without stopping much anywhere for more than a day or too.

“I should cut it,” I said into my fork, shoveling the eggs into my mouth to enjoy the food before the nausea rose again. My hair would be easier to take care of if I cropped it short like most men.

“Don’t,” Liam said quietly, but again with that alpha force that tingled through my veins.

“I don’t even know you,” I told him. He didn’t get to have a say on my hair. I let him help because I was too weak to do otherwise. But as soon as I was better I’d go. He couldn’t keep me here. I couldn’t stay here no matter how much I might want to.

“I’m Liam Ulrich, Alpha of the Northern Cascades pack.”

“That’s a pretty big area.”

He shrugged.

I broke apart one of the biscuits, thrilled when I discovered a tiny bottle of fresh honey next to the juice. I slathered it on the biscuit and took a bite. It wasn’t store bought. The biscuit or the honey. I knew homemade when I tasted it. Had spent years perfecting my own technique.

“I’m glad you like my cooking,” Liam said. He efficiently detangled my hair and wove it into a simple braid.

I swallowed. “One of your pack didn’t make this?” Normally alpha’s didn’t do mundane things like cooking, or cleaning. He was the manager of the bakery, which made sense since alpha’s almost always owned a couple businesses in their territory. Packs were expensive to support, and it was the alpha’s job to pay for things like healing witches and body disposal. Often they owned a dozen businesses and employed pack to work in them. It was a win-win over all. The Volkov owned businesses all over the world. Oberon had grown the empire large enough that a lot of the Volkov wolves didn’t have to work. Which was good as most of the wolves my adoptive father took in were in need of rehabilitation or a swift death. The other wolves in the pack or a spouse managed the home for an alpha including cooking and cleaning. I’d always thought it was a sort of class separation, but it more likely had to do with time management, as alphas were always being called upon to help someone in the pack.