Chapter Six
More and more, Griffin found himself watching the alpha on the camera. Sometimes, their guest seemed aware that it was there, staring into it for long moments, other times he studiously ignored it. He wasn’t sure the shifter had made the connection between Griffin and the camera, not like he associated Griffin with the food. After the first near disaster with the basin, the alpha seemed to understand what he wanted and each time he visited with the basin, the alpha washed himself down with the sponge. It took Griffin showing him again to get him to do more than just swipe twice across his chest, but whatever action Griffin did, the alpha always followed, especially when there was fruit to be had.
Griffin got up early one morning, checking the camera quickly before breakfast. He froze at what he saw, wincing and cursing. There was blood, all over the alpha’s hand and the wall. How and why he wasn’t sure though he suspected it had something to do with the violent nightmares he and the others had observed. They tended to be worse around dawn.
Skipping breakfast, he instead gathered some supplies and the usual food, knowing today would either be a giant step forward or half a dozen steps back. He checked who was on guard duty and had them walk with him toward the cottage, leaving them just outside of scent range but close enough that if there was trouble, they wouldn’t be far away.
The alpha wasn’t outside to meet him like he usually was. Too early, Griffin guessed, plus the wind was blowing his scent away from the cottage, not toward it. He made sure to stamp loudly on the ground as he walked, not liking the idea of catching the alpha unawares. When he got close enough to see the cottage door, he spotted the curious and cautious eyes staring out at him from the dim inside of the cottage. The alpha made no move to come out, even when Griffin called to him, preferring to stay just inside. It might have been the injury making the alpha more cautious or maybe even whatever nightmare he’d had. Griffin knew all about nightmares, about how hard it could be to shake them off even in the light of day.
“I see you hurt your hand,” he tried, setting some of his things down. “I thought you might like to clean up a bit.”
The alpha continued to watch him, not moving closer or further away. Griffin knew Ronan would not approve of his next action, but hell, the alpha wasn’t there, and Griffin was the one in charge. If he wanted to make a stupid decision, that was his right.
“If you won’t come to me, then I guess I’ll have to come to you.” He waited but there was no response.
“I’m going to come closer now,” he warned and started walking again, past where he usually sat, past the point where he knew the chain wouldn’t reach. Still, the alpha didn’t move, watching and almost… waiting, for him. When he neared the door, the alpha’s eyes disappeared back into the shadows of the cottage.
“It’s just me,” he said softly. “It’s just Griffin. I’ve brought food, and water, and fruit. All for you. And some stuff to clean your hand up.”
He half-expected the alpha to rush him, to burst through the door. He’d be on top of him in a second and Griffin would be sweet out of luck. But he got as far as the door without anything happening, sinking to his knees, and waiting for his eyes to adjust. He knew there was someone watching the camera, ready and waiting to call help to Griffin’s side.
The alpha was crouched by the far wall, his eyes narrowed, his teeth bared. He growled, low in his throat.
“Nice to see you, too,” Griffin said simply. “I know I’m a little early, but I wasn’t sure if that wound on your hand could wait. Do you want to start with some food?”
He wasn’t expecting a response and just did what he always did, unzipping his bag and pulling out the cooked meat. There was the slightest change in the alpha as he scented the food from across the room. Griffin figured his best bet was to get the shifter eating and try to deal with his arm while he was distracted.
“Here.”
He tossed the ham bone across the room so that it landed just in front of him. The alpha looked at it for a long moment, reaching out a foot and nudging it like it might bite him. When nothing happened, he grabbed it with his uninjured hand and dragged it toward him, leaning down and sniffing it carefully, his eyes never leaving Griffin.
“It’s good,” Griffin confirmed. “We had some for dinner last night. With some potatoes and some cabbage from our vegetable garden.”
The alpha wasn’t much impressed by vegetables, though Griffin kept trying.
The shifter’s hunger finally won out over his caution and he bent his head to eat. Griffin started talking again.
“I’m going to come closer, take a look at that wound on your hand. It looks nasty.”
It did. He suspected a broken finger or two. Maybe even a fractured wrist. From the blood on the wall, he guessed the alpha had banged it over and over at full force. That was the only way he could see him managing to do that much damage.
Even though he’d have preferred to have his hands free, he thought it better to have the rest of the food with him for when the alpha finished the ham. Slowly, he inched his way across the floor, pushing and dragging the supplies with him, never getting to his feet. The other shifter would feel safer if they were both on the same level. He got a few cautious looks and one half-hearted growl, but the alpha’s attention was much more taken with the ham than with Griffin.
And then he was right there, sitting within arm’s reach. Up close, he could see his pitiful attempts to get the alpha to bathe himself were not even close to removing the layers of dirt caked on him. He’d have liked to get him into a bath, let him soak away all that dirt and grime. But, considering how much trouble they were having with the basin, a bath was off the table, for now.
He was close enough to get a good look at the injured hand. Definitely some broken, dislocated fingers. The wrist was swollen too. If he’d been in the fullness of health, he’d have mostly healed already, though the dislocated fingers would have needed some help either way.
Reaching into the basin, he soaked the washcloth and wrung it out, showing it to the alpha.
“I need to clean your hand before I bind it. Okay?”
The alpha looked up from his food at the question, but Griffin didn’t think his words were getting through. He reached toward the alpha’s hand, and the alpha growled, moving it out of reach.
“Don’t be like that,” Griffin chided softly. “I can see it’s hurting you, and I can help. Let me help. Let me stop the pain. Please.” He knew it was all in the tone of his voice and not the content of his words, so he tried the gentle, cajoling tone he used on frightened, hurt shifters.
He reached for the alpha’s hand again. This time, he stayed still, watching Griffin reach closer and closer. Griffin was anticipating being batted away by force or even thrown across the room, but he got within an inch of the alpha’s hand before he pulled it out of reach again.
“Come on. That’s no good. If you let me look at it, let me touch it, I can make it so it doesn’t hurt anymore. Wouldn’t that be good?”
There was a look of deep confusion on the alpha’s face like he was struggling to understand Griffin’s words. Something got through, clearly, as the alpha leaned in slowly, holding his hand out toward him.
He moved forward cautiously, expecting the alpha to pull away or push back. But he held still as Griffin’s hand lightly touched his.
“That’s it,” he encouraged. “That’s the way.”
He held up the damp cloth. “We’ll start with getting rid of all this blood. It might sting a little, so don’t freak out on me, okay?”
He got to work, knowing that even as gentle as he was being, it had to hurt. But the alpha remained stoic. If he was in pain, he wasn’t showing it. His eyes were focused intently on Griffin’s hands, following his every movement. It seemed part suspicion, part curiosity. Griffin made sure to go slow, to keep the same pace.
Once the hand was as clean as he could get it, he checked each digit in turn and then the wrist. He could tell what was sore only from the short huff of exhalation the alpha made. Either he had an abundance of self-control or a high pain threshold. Griffin suspected the latter and also suspected it was hard-earned through years of being beaten and mauled during fights and training. Training of alpha fighters was vicious and violent, he’d seen the marks and scars left on Ronan and his brother Quinn. And they hadn’t even finished their training, escaping when they were both still teenagers.
“Okay,” he said softly. “This next part, it’s going to hurt. A lot. I just need you to not freak out on me. I’ll count you in, just focus on my voice and try not to, you know, kill me by accident. I bring the food remember? And once we’re finished here…” He stuck his hand back into his bag and pulled out some oranges. “These will be all yours.”
The alpha’s eyes landed on the fruit, and Griffin could see he wanted them.
“We’re almost there,” he encouraged. “Just hold tight another minute.” He held the alpha’s hand between both of his, grasped the dislocated fingers firmly and counted, bracing himself for the alpha’s inevitable reaction.
“On three, okay? One, two, three.”
He pushed the fingers back into place and the alpha reared back, yanking his hand from Griffin’s while his other hand shoved hard at Griffin’s shoulder, knocking him down flat onto his back on the floor. Winded, Griffin still kept trying to talk, hoping he could soothe the alpha enough not to need to be rescued.
“It’s… okay. It’s all… over… now. You did… great. Just great.”
He stayed where he’d landed, waiting to see if the alpha followed through. But after a long moment, nothing happened. Cautiously, he sat up, giving the camera a quick wave to show he was okay. The alpha was crouched in the corner, his hand cradled in his lap.
Griffin managed a strangled laugh. “You gave me a scare though I suppose I gave you one first. I guess that makes us even.”
The alpha looked pointedly down to Griffin’s bag, and the omega gave a wry smile and a shake of his head. “If anyone has earned these, you have.”
He rolled the first one over, making a face when the alpha bit through the skin instead of trying to peel it, spitting the peel from his mouth while grimacing from the taste. The second one he peeled himself before tossing it to him. The alpha caught it in his good hand and bit down, juice flying everywhere.
“Good, huh?” Griffin asked, feeling a little weak with relief that he hadn’t been pummeled into the ground or had his neck snapped.
The alpha turned his head to the side, regarding him with a long stare.
“Good,” he grunted back. Griffin could only stare back at him, speechless.
Griffin was on a high as he walked back through the woods. He found Ronan waiting for him, arms folded, and with a face like thunder.
“What were you thinking? He could have snapped your neck.”
“But he didn’t,” Griffin pointed out.
“What happened to not taking risks? What happened to being smart?”
“I was careful,” Griffin argued. “I had Mark watching the camera, and Ben and Joel were nearby. If I had needed help, they weren’t far away.”
“Too far away to be of any use if he’d got his hands on you.”
“He could have, half a dozen times, but he didn’t. Moreover, he spoke for the first time.”
Ronan paused, curiosity cutting through his anger. “What did he say?”
“He thought the oranges were good.”
The alpha struggled not to smile. “I’ll put oranges on our shopping list.”
Griffin was aware the argument wasn’t resolved, just postponed. Yet, he knew Ronan had his back and always would.
“He say anything else?” the alpha asked.
“Not yet.”
Griffin was hopeful. If their guest could speak one word, others would follow.