Remy seemed unable to successfully get himself under control.
Smothering the disgust at what he was about to do, he forced a harsh look on his face and cut off his emotions. “You’ll heal and your fur will grow back,” he said with a bored tone.
He ignored the gasps from the others in the room and focused on Rylan.
If there was one thing guaranteed to make Rylan spitting mad enough to try and get out of bed and ready to kick ass it was Micah opening his mouth. Angry was better that devastated.
“Is that what you think I am, a coward? I may not remember everything, but I remember him branding me like fucking cattle!” Rylan ripped the covering that smelled like honey off his arm to reveal a T, branded into Rylan’s skin.
He could feel Rylan’s eyes burrowing into him, but Micah couldn’t look away from the T-shaped wound. The red, puckered and blistered skin was raw and angry. It was a mark of ownership. That fucking bastard Trevor had marked Rylan as his forever.
Becoming deadly still, Micah remembered his dreams, the ones that tormented him with the smell of burning flesh.
His stomach rebelled and Micah slammed out of the hospital room. Asher grabbed him by the arm and all but dragged him to the bathroom while Micah focused on staying conscious and not throwing up.
The scent of disinfectant penetrated his nose as they entered the restroom.
Asher shoved open the nearest cubicle door and pushed Micah inside.
Micah only had time to push up the toilet lid before he expelled what felt like his stomach, lungs, liver and at least half a kidney. Asher left him to it and Micah heard the sound of a tap being turned on somewhere in the distance.
Soon after a plastic cup appeared in his vision beside him. Micah took it and rinsed, spitting into the toilet. “Urgh.”
He pressed the button to activate the flush and lowered the lid. Despite trying to do it gently, he still flinched when the hard plastic made contact with the porcelain with an echoing clang. It was like he’d been hit in the head with a fucking sledgehammer.
Micah turned and sank down onto the closed toilet lid. He put his head in his hands and tried to erase the image of the branded wound on Rylan’s lightly tanned skin from his mind.
“What the fuck was that about, Micah?” Asher shoved wet paper towels at him and Micah took them, pressing them to the back of his neck. “I’ve only ever seen you chuck that time Zeke dared you to swallow a mystery alcoholic drink when we were eighteen and managed to sneak into one of the clubs in the city. Hell, I still don’t know what that was, but I never go near anything green in a glass.”
The thought of that nasty ass drink made his stomach churn again.
“It was blue, not green, and I don’t think it was a real drink. I think Zeke chatted up the barmaid and somehow talked her into letting him loose behind the bar for a minute.” Micah grumbled and got to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
He gingerly walked out of the toilet stall and headed to the sinks, turning the cold tap. He filled his hands and splashed the water over his face, spluttering and wiping his eyes with a dry paper towel Asher held out for him.
Asher was still waiting for an answer, but Micah wasn’t sure what to say without sounding crazy. Micah kept his gaze fixed on the swirl of water as droplets ran off his hair. He should really get around to cutting it, he hadn’t shaved for a few days either so he was beginning to look as tired as he felt. “I had nightmares. I smelled Rylan’s skin burning. ”
Asher froze next to him. Micah couldn’t blame him. “Is that why you’ve been acting like you’re a Crayola short of a box?”
Metaphor aside, Micah took offence at that. “I haven’t—”
“Yes, you have. Why do you think I’ve been shadowing you everywhere? It certainly wasn’t for your sparkling personality. I was afraid you’d go and do something stupid.”
Shooting Asher a disparaging
Smothering the disgust at what he was about to do, he forced a harsh look on his face and cut off his emotions. “You’ll heal and your fur will grow back,” he said with a bored tone.
He ignored the gasps from the others in the room and focused on Rylan.
If there was one thing guaranteed to make Rylan spitting mad enough to try and get out of bed and ready to kick ass it was Micah opening his mouth. Angry was better that devastated.
“Is that what you think I am, a coward? I may not remember everything, but I remember him branding me like fucking cattle!” Rylan ripped the covering that smelled like honey off his arm to reveal a T, branded into Rylan’s skin.
He could feel Rylan’s eyes burrowing into him, but Micah couldn’t look away from the T-shaped wound. The red, puckered and blistered skin was raw and angry. It was a mark of ownership. That fucking bastard Trevor had marked Rylan as his forever.
Becoming deadly still, Micah remembered his dreams, the ones that tormented him with the smell of burning flesh.
His stomach rebelled and Micah slammed out of the hospital room. Asher grabbed him by the arm and all but dragged him to the bathroom while Micah focused on staying conscious and not throwing up.
The scent of disinfectant penetrated his nose as they entered the restroom.
Asher shoved open the nearest cubicle door and pushed Micah inside.
Micah only had time to push up the toilet lid before he expelled what felt like his stomach, lungs, liver and at least half a kidney. Asher left him to it and Micah heard the sound of a tap being turned on somewhere in the distance.
Soon after a plastic cup appeared in his vision beside him. Micah took it and rinsed, spitting into the toilet. “Urgh.”
He pressed the button to activate the flush and lowered the lid. Despite trying to do it gently, he still flinched when the hard plastic made contact with the porcelain with an echoing clang. It was like he’d been hit in the head with a fucking sledgehammer.
Micah turned and sank down onto the closed toilet lid. He put his head in his hands and tried to erase the image of the branded wound on Rylan’s lightly tanned skin from his mind.
“What the fuck was that about, Micah?” Asher shoved wet paper towels at him and Micah took them, pressing them to the back of his neck. “I’ve only ever seen you chuck that time Zeke dared you to swallow a mystery alcoholic drink when we were eighteen and managed to sneak into one of the clubs in the city. Hell, I still don’t know what that was, but I never go near anything green in a glass.”
The thought of that nasty ass drink made his stomach churn again.
“It was blue, not green, and I don’t think it was a real drink. I think Zeke chatted up the barmaid and somehow talked her into letting him loose behind the bar for a minute.” Micah grumbled and got to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
He gingerly walked out of the toilet stall and headed to the sinks, turning the cold tap. He filled his hands and splashed the water over his face, spluttering and wiping his eyes with a dry paper towel Asher held out for him.
Asher was still waiting for an answer, but Micah wasn’t sure what to say without sounding crazy. Micah kept his gaze fixed on the swirl of water as droplets ran off his hair. He should really get around to cutting it, he hadn’t shaved for a few days either so he was beginning to look as tired as he felt. “I had nightmares. I smelled Rylan’s skin burning. ”
Asher froze next to him. Micah couldn’t blame him. “Is that why you’ve been acting like you’re a Crayola short of a box?”
Metaphor aside, Micah took offence at that. “I haven’t—”
“Yes, you have. Why do you think I’ve been shadowing you everywhere? It certainly wasn’t for your sparkling personality. I was afraid you’d go and do something stupid.”
Shooting Asher a disparaging
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