I want Cass and find myself seeking her even in those rare moments that I manage sleep. I haven’t slept a full night in five days now, and the exhaustion is killing me, but a least it tempers the constant arousal I can’t fight much longer.
Exhaling a hard breath, I open the backdoor and step into the kitchen, my stomach rumbling instinctively though I know there’s no food here and anything that is still in the fridge is probably growing arms by now.
Shit, I should take some time to go buy staples now that Lync is here, maybe show him more than pizza or take out. Maybe if he sees me doing more human things, it will encourage him to go back to full skin instead of this half shifted state he seems to inhabit now.
Deciding to do something about this, to encourage him and spend real time making things liveable, I walk through the darkened kitchen, instinctively dodging the debris piles I know are there and go through the living room and up the stairs.
I’m so tired I pay as little attention to the empty house as I can manage, not wanting to think about the reason I built it so big in the first place because I don’t need to remind my animals of her, of what could be.
Hearing a growl when I hit the upper landing, I make my way down towards my bedroom and peer into the darkness to see Lync standing in his doorway, his eyes glowing when they fix on me.
“Hey buddy. Sorry to disturb you.”
He doesn’t respond, his usual MO, just looks me up and down as if checking for injury like he always does and grunts before going back into the room and slamming the door behind him.
Hell, I’m going to have to do something about that bastard soon or I’ll be stuck with the equivalent of a pet in no time at all instead of a roommate. Which is one of the things I was really looking forward to when I first started hunting him.
I had this idea that I would grab him, bring him back home and civilize him somehow, be his friend again and then we could keep each other company on those days when shit gets too real and we know that life is a stretch of emptiness and sadness.
Lync appears to be more concerned with giving me the silent, cold shoulder and doesn’t respond in any way. At least he’s here, right? At least he’s not still out there howling at the moon and chasing unsuspecting humans, who just happen to run out of gas on the side of a stretch of road they have no business being on alone at ten at night.
Shying away from those thoughts again, thoughts that will have me jerking off in the shower and pacing my room for hours, I open the door and start stripping off my uniform, dropping it all where it lands and making my way into the bathroom. I need a shower—no jerking off!—some sleep and then tomorrow I have my last double shift before I can take some time off and do something about Lync.
Stepping under the spray, I grab body wash and lather myself up thoroughly but quickly, my eyes drooping already from fatigue. My hair gets a quick wash with the body wash since I don’t think I have shampoo left and honestly don’t care much about it anyway. It’ll do fine even if Mom has a fit about ruining my hair with harsh soaps.
Whatever.
When I’m done, I dry off, thanking God my smell is on the blink after I stumbled on a skunk earlier, and drop everything right where it is, striding naked towards the bed.
I fall face down, curling around a pillow and I am asleep before I can cringe at the smell of my sheets like I usually do. Yeah. Just one more double shift starting at four and I can sort myself and Lync out.
# # # #
Cass
“Hi! You’re looking well rested this morning,” I say cheerily when I step into the house for day two of Operation Save My Soul, my little attempt at humor because I’ve convinced myself that if I can get this done, actually turn this house into a home and not a hovel, then I am so getting into heaven when I die.
No stops, just one free-and-clear shot to the big pearly gates without having to answer as to why I stole a dollar out of Mom’s purse when I was eight.
It was for candy, but trust me, it wasn’t worth it. I felt so guilty about it I puked it all up the minute the last piece hit my stomach.
Lync grunts by way of greeting, and I giggle as I close the front door, watching him rise from the stairs where he’s obviously been sitting waiting for me.
How sweet.
“I brought over some supplies for us, just until I have everything cleaned and I can go shopping for groceries. You want some coffee?” I ask, holding up the bag I brought loaded with bread, eggs, butter, milk, coffee, sugar, and some other things I consider staples.
He tilts his head as if he doesn’t understand, so I wave him off and walk to the kitchen, breathing a sigh of relief that there are no new empty take-out cartons or beer cans.
Setting the bag on the counter, I turn to grab the pot from the coffee percolator and fill it with water before getting the coffee grounds and a filter from the bag.
Once I have it brewing, I grab a pan and set about starting a good breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, and breakfast sausages Hannah insists no one can live without.
My goal today is to feed Lync because the man looks like he can seriously use some nutrition that does not consist of the protein variety alone. I mean, the man is sweet but having him leave for a minute and come back with a dead skinned rabbit that was obviously a fresh kill is just…
Anyway, it was great after I roasted it, but that is not the point. I am going to make sure this man eats a good breakfast and lunch every day to build up his strength.
Humming softly, I bustle around packing away the dishes I didn’t unload from the washer before I left yesterday, and by the time that’s done, I plate up two plates of eggs, bacon, and buttery toast.
Putting it down in front of Lync, I go to pour two cups of coffee, adding cream and sugar to both because he needs it and I don’t care if he likes it black. That’s just gross.
When I turn to sit down and pickup my fork, I pause, blinking when he just sits there, staring at me. Oh heck, maybe he doesn’t eat this kinda stuff where he comes from.
“Baaacon?” I ask, pointing at the meat. “Eeeeggs?”
He blinks again, those strange blue eyes looking right at me and doesn’t move. Is this a religious thing? Well of course, you idiot! Only uncivilized heathens don’t pray before they eat. God, I really do have to start making an effort.
“Oh! You wanna pray? I’ll pray. I could seriously use some points with the Big Man upstairs.”
Taking his hands, I close my eyes and bow my head, starting off with a stumble but getting into it pretty easily.
“Dear God, er, I thank you for the food and hope that me spending money on my credit card to buy it doesn’t mean my stalker will find me. Thank you so much for letting me find this town. I really appreciate it because I’m pretty sure I’d be dead somewhere if not for these people. I especially thank you for getting me this job. I mean, I really needed it if I wanted to continue eating and living. Lord, me and Lync thank you so much for yesterday’s er, delicious rabbit too. Just a belated shout out for a good meal. Lord, please help us both to find our way and give me the strength to clean the toilets today. Amen!”
I finish off with a smile and grin when Lync huffs, what I think may be his version of a laugh. Picking up my fork, I show him how to pick up a bite of eggs and bacon and put it in my mouth.
“Hhhmm. Good. Now you try it.”
He grunts, reaches for his own fork and peers at it as if it’s a foreign object. Maybe they didn’t use forks in his cult? Anyway! He forks up a helping, his movements slow and clumsy but eventually gets some to his mouth.
I think if ever in your life you see the definition of ecstasy, this would be it because Lync closes his eyes when the taste hits him and lets off what I can only call a growling rumble deep in his chest.
“Good?”
“Good,” he says, chewing and swallowing fast.
I watch, eating silently when he tries to get more food, a lot more food than can fit on the fork and ends up scattering it on the table. Ano
ther growl issues forth, this one laced with frustration as he tries and tries but loses more food. When he finally snarls and hurls the fork across the room, I jump and gape, as he shoves a hand into the food, obviously preferring to use his fingers.
Then he just shovels it in so fast all I can do is stare in fascinated horror.
“Good. More!” He grunts when the plate is empty, shoving it my way in a silent demand.
“Um, okay but…” I trail off when he grunts, looking at the pan on the stove and rise to serve the last of the breakfast.
Before I walk back to him though, I grab a dessert spoon, the kind with the big bowl that will catch more food per scoop and place it next to his plate on the table.
He goes to grab at the food again, but I stop his hand, curling my fingers over his to halt him. I promised him I wouldn’t touch him again, I know this, but I keep hold of him when he goes to break free and shake my head.
“No. No eating with your hands, okay? I gotta eat too, and that just looks— Here, I’ll show you. This should be easier for you. Forks are tricky, but the spoon should work,” I say, taking his big hand to uncurl his fingers and show him how to hold it. “See?”
“Spoon.”
“Yeah, spoon. For eating,” I tell him, miming how to scoop up food with the implement.
It takes him two tries before he gets a spoonful to his mouth, but when it works he looks back at me and grins so big I actually see it through all his hair.
God, the guy is seriously hairy. Maybe it’s a condition and not some cult thing that forbids him from shaving it, I think, looking closely and seeing that he has hair on more places than he really should, even without a shave. I wonder if he’d let me wax him…
“Good!”
“Good.” I giggle, shoving some bacon from my plate into his and shaking my head when he tries to shove it back. “No really, I already ate at home. I just didn’t want you to eat alone. I’ll have the eggs and toast. You like toast? I made extra. Let me grab it.”
I rise to get the last few slices and sit down again to see him bite into the bacon, his head thrown back, eyes closed with a blissful expression on his face.
Thank God there are no piglets out there in the woods, or I’d be afraid I just signed their death warrants.
We eat silently, and I watch his every move, smiling when he tastes the coffee, blinks, and gulps it down without taking a breath.
“More!”
Giggling, I go to get more and add more cream and sugar, my heart happy when he takes the cup with an anticipation that I enjoy seeing. Watching this man enjoy and relish simple things that most of us take for granted makes me feel as if I just gave him the world.
By the time I’m done and rising to clear the plates, he looks replete and cozy where he leans back in his seat, his eyes watching me curiously. I don’t mind, just hop to it stacking the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher and washing and rinsing the pan while I hum and work silently.
Once that’s done, I grab a broom and sweep the kitchen, working methodically, sweeping twice more to ensure the floor is clean before I wrangle the mop and bucket and wash the floor.
The place sparkles by the time I’m done, and I let out a satisfied sigh when I see the cabinets all gleaming and the evidence of my hard work. I like this.
“Now?”
“Now I’m gonna go vacuum the living room, entry hall, and stairs. And the couches,” I say, smiling when I go to grab the vacuum from the closet beneath the stairs and turn to find Lync right on my tail.
It’s when I plug in the vacuum that things start going really wrong because he snarls, lunges at it and hits it so hard the thing sparks and cuts off, dying an ignominious death instantly.
“Loud!”
I gasp, my jaw on my chest I’m so shocked and look between Lync and the now dead machine with a sense of absolute horror. Once the noise is gone, hell the thing is decimated, sporting a hole through the top and looking like a dead R2D2, Lync hits his chest and grins.
“Protect! Cass.”
Aaaw, he’s just so sweet.
Giggling, I unplug it and push it back to the closet, biting my lip with worry.
“We’ll just leave it in there and not say anything. Okay? I mean the guy who owns the place probably doesn’t know it exists. I’m going to have to sweep now, but that’s okay! You can dust while I do that.”
He grunts, nodding his head, and I laugh again when I hand him the duster and he looks at it without comprehension. Five minutes of demonstration later and I’m humming while I sweep the wood floors and large rugs, my teeth in my lip when I realize I’ll have to haul the rugs outside and beat them down and hose them to get them clean.
Lync helps me do that after tossing the duster away when he sneezes for the third time, his snarl at the inanimate bunch of feathers making me laugh and shake my head.
When the rugs are all outside and hanging on the clothes line, I send Lync inside to stand at the door while I use the broom stick to pound out dust. That takes me a good half hour or so and I’m coughing and covered in fine sand particles when I feel satisfied that it’s as good as it’ll get.
“Lync! You wanna hose these down for me?”
He comes back out and stands silently while I grab the hose from beside the house and aim the water flow at the rugs. Once he knows what I want, he takes it and does the job while I go back in and open all the windows.
It’s not that cold out anymore, well not by the previous cold’s standards at least, and for that I’m grateful because the rugs may dry sometime today. Maybe.
“Now?” Lync grunts when I check that the water flow from the carpets is clean and shut the water off, rolling the hose back up to replace it.
“Now I need to sweep out the entry and stairs but first! We’re setting you up in a room. No, don’t argue. You can keep the one you have, but we’re moving a bed in there.”
He doesn’t argue, maybe because I put my hands on my hips and refuse to budge. Whatever the reason, I soon find myself moving linens and blankets while Lync literally picks up the bedframe and mattress and lugs it into the empty room.
Goodness, he’s really strong, I think as I survey his room and nod, satisfied when I see the freshly made bed against the window with the side tables and smell the wax I used to make things sparkle.
“Clean.”
“Clean,” I agree, clapping my hands excitedly when he sits on the bed to test it and lays back, sighing. “See? Good.”
“Good. Now.”
“Now we clean. You want to dust—”
“No!”
“Okay, okay, you don’t like dust. How about if you strip the bed in the master bedroom for me? I put the old linens back before I left when I realized I wouldn’t get to it all in one day and they seriously need a wash.”
He lopes off to do that, and I go back downstairs to sweep and mop the lower level. When that’s done, I stretch my back and look to see Lync on the stairs, sitting and watching me silently.
We spend our day like that, him following me around, watching while I give the rooms a thorough cleaning and remake the bed in the master. By the time lunch rolls around, the place is cleaner than I thought I could make it in this short amount of time, and I am pooped and hungry.
“Lunch?”
“Lunch,” he repeats, making me giggle and shake my head.
“Food.”
“Food.”
This time Lync growls and nods, and I smile as I set about making us sandwiches filled with cheese, tomatoes, and cold cuts.
All in all, I will repeat my earlier assumption and bask in the knowledge that I have a new friend.
Chapter Eleven
Banner
It’s just gone four in the afternoon when I step into the house through the backdoor and come to a stop, my eyes stretching comically when I see the kitchen and smell something that makes my stomach growl loudly.
The place is spotless, and I mean it gleams and carries the scent of pine and th
e lavender detergent Mom likes to send me as a hint every now and then.
Turning, I see a pot on the stove and almost groan when I lift the lid to smell stew and meat and potatoes. Oh, dear God, I haven’t eaten anything that isn’t takeout or Mom’s cooking since I moved out on my own years ago.
Smelling this here, in my own house, makes me long for it and the female I want to give this to me. Turning, I stalk into the living room and stop again, my eyes going wide when I see the floors, uncluttered by dust, garbage, or clothes and take in the rich wood of the tables that have obviously been polished.
The place is clean, uncluttered, homey, and the progress doesn’t stop there, I think, as I stride to the front entry hall and look down at the floor where once before there was dust, dried and sticky puddles of coffee and beer that I spilled a few months back and—
Looking up, I see the stairs free of the clothes I draped over the railing and the debris free runner that smells of carpet shampoo and lavender. I blink, not quite believing my eyes and feel my mouth pull into a grin when it occurs to me that only one person could have done this: Lync.
Maybe the guy is coming back to himself and is so disgusted with the house he couldn’t stop himself from cleaning? It’s the only explanation I have, as I bound upstairs to see the same result here. Everything is dust free, something my senses are thankful for because my sinuses were starting to seriously act up from the constant dust inhalation.
When I get down the hall, I see Lync’s door standing open and peek in to gape again because the guy is laying on a bed, a clean, freshly made bed just staring back at me.
“Uh hey.”
He doesn’t answer, as is the usual case with the guy, and keeps staring at me in that eerily silent way that makes my animals shift uneasily.
“You uh, feeling okay today?”
Lync grunts and turns his gaze towards one of the two windows in the room, staring out silently. Shrugging, I head for my bedroom and groan when I open the door.
Greyriver Shifters Page 81
