Blind Tiger
Page 37
Robyn turned to me, her brows drawn low. “He seems to be blaming you for all of this. We need to get him back to bed, and maybe give him a sedative.”
I nodded. I wasn’t sure a sedative would cure Morris’s delusion, but at least it would give us time to figure out what had gone wrong with his adjustment.
“Let’s get you something to wear.” Robyn started to stand, then turned to me instead. “He probably shouldn’t wear something that smells like you. Ideas?”
“There’s a clean robe hanging on my bathroom door,” I told her. “I haven’t worn it yet.”
Morris’s gaze followed Robyn nervously as she walked past him into the bathroom. A second later, she brought out the robe, and even from my position in the doorway, I could smell the fabric softener used on it. “Okay, Corey.” She sank onto her knees and draped the robe over his shoulders. “We’re going to take you to the basement and Titus is going to call Spencer to come take a look at you. Okay?”
“As long as he stays back.” Morris’s anger was like a knife to my gut. I’d helped at least a dozen strays acclimate to their new lives in the past year, and none of the others had blamed me for what happened to them. I’d had varying levels of success in the bonding department, but my efforts had never backfired before.
How could I be an effective Alpha to a man who hated the very sight—and scent—of me?
“Fine.” I stepped away from my own bedroom door. “You can deal with Robyn and Spencer for now.”
Robyn gave me a relieved smile as she helped Morris slide his arms into the robe sleeves, and I realized how lucky the new stray and I both were to have her around at that moment. She genuinely wanted to help him, and he seemed willing to let her. She was just as good at this as I was.
Maybe better.
“Let me help you up.” Robyn looped one of her arms around his and started to stand. Then she froze, her face inches from the stray’s bare neck. “He smells different.” Her wide-eyed gaze caught mine. “I’ve never met a stray before his scent changed before. This is fascinating! He smells like—” The light in her eyes died beneath a confused frown. She backed slowly away from the stray and rose to her feet with a cat’s effortless grace. “Titus, he smells like you.”
“I know. He’s been all over my clothes and he showered with my shampoo.” I gestured one-handed toward the wet footprints leading from the bathroom. “Can you get him to stand up?”
“No.” Gravity echoed in her voice as Robyn’s gaze narrowed on me. “He doesn’t smell like your clothes or your shampoo. He smells like you. That ribbon of his infector’s scent braided through his is you, Titus.”
ELEVEN
Robyn
“What?” Titus crossed the floor toward us as if shock had obliterated any trace of the Alpha’s typical caution.
Corey Morris scooted away from him frantically, but Titus dropped into a squat at his side. He inhaled deeply, and his bearing changed in an instant. Tension tightened his entire body until I worried that his muscles would snap, like cords under too much pressure. “That’s not possible.”
“So you didn’t infect him? Then why does he smell like you?” I inhaled again, to verify what my nose was already sure of. “Why is he tearing up your clothes and showering to try to scrub your scent off himself?”
Titus moved slowly away from Corey, and I could see no sign that he’d even heard me. His eyes were wide and uncomprehending, his forehead furrowed, as if his features couldn’t decide whether to look shocked or confused.
“Titus?” I reached for him, but he stepped back. “What’s going on? Did you do this to him?”
His phone buzzed from his pocket and he blinked as he pulled it out, as if he’d just woken up from a long nap. “Drew and Knox are heading home. I need you to take Morris to the basement while I clean this up.” His gaze followed the trail of footprints.
“Titus, what’s happening?” I whispered, while Corey watched us warily from several feet away.
“Get him to the basement,” he repeated, and his expression was suddenly as featureless as a concrete wall. He’d thrown a shield over his thoughts and shut me out. “Now.” Then he disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.
“Okay.” My heart pounded, not from exertion, but in sympathy and synchronicity with the stress Titus was emitting like radiation from a cracked reactor.
As if he were my Alpha.
Despite the evidence, Titus seemed to have no idea why Corey Morris carried an unmistakable, if faint trace of his scent.
“Come on, Corey, let’s get you to bed.” I gave him my hand and was relieved when he let me help him up.
“What’s going on, Robyn?” he asked as I looped my arm through his and guided him toward the hall.
“I’m not sure. But I am sure that this isn’t what it looks like.” It couldn’t be. Titus was completely shocked by Corey’s post-shift scent.
I escorted Corey down the stairs, through the kitchen and into the guesthouse, inhaling deeply through my nose, hoping with each breath to discover that I’d been mistaken. That he wasn’t really carrying Titus’s scent.
But he was. He couldn’t escape it, and neither could I.
I got Corey to rest on the bed in his cell, and while I was pouring him a glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge, the front door squealed open upstairs. Boots clomped on the steps, and I was surprised to realize I could already recognize the cadence of Titus’s footsteps.
“I need you to go get Drew from the main house,” Titus whispered. “Just Drew. Do you understand?”
I nodded, though I understood little of what was happening.
I found Drew in the kitchen with Knox, Spencer, and Brandt, brewing a pot of coffee. I tossed my head toward the door I’d just come through without breaking eye contact, and Drew followed me out onto the patio.
“Titus needs to see you. But only you,” I whispered, when Brandt’s focus followed us through the kitchen window.
Drew took off down the tiled walkway leading around the pool, leaving me to follow.
In the basement of the guest house, Drew followed his Alpha’s focus to Corey Morris, who sat on his bed, his wary gaze trained on Titus. “What—”
I nodded. I wasn’t sure a sedative would cure Morris’s delusion, but at least it would give us time to figure out what had gone wrong with his adjustment.
“Let’s get you something to wear.” Robyn started to stand, then turned to me instead. “He probably shouldn’t wear something that smells like you. Ideas?”
“There’s a clean robe hanging on my bathroom door,” I told her. “I haven’t worn it yet.”
Morris’s gaze followed Robyn nervously as she walked past him into the bathroom. A second later, she brought out the robe, and even from my position in the doorway, I could smell the fabric softener used on it. “Okay, Corey.” She sank onto her knees and draped the robe over his shoulders. “We’re going to take you to the basement and Titus is going to call Spencer to come take a look at you. Okay?”
“As long as he stays back.” Morris’s anger was like a knife to my gut. I’d helped at least a dozen strays acclimate to their new lives in the past year, and none of the others had blamed me for what happened to them. I’d had varying levels of success in the bonding department, but my efforts had never backfired before.
How could I be an effective Alpha to a man who hated the very sight—and scent—of me?
“Fine.” I stepped away from my own bedroom door. “You can deal with Robyn and Spencer for now.”
Robyn gave me a relieved smile as she helped Morris slide his arms into the robe sleeves, and I realized how lucky the new stray and I both were to have her around at that moment. She genuinely wanted to help him, and he seemed willing to let her. She was just as good at this as I was.
Maybe better.
“Let me help you up.” Robyn looped one of her arms around his and started to stand. Then she froze, her face inches from the stray’s bare neck. “He smells different.” Her wide-eyed gaze caught mine. “I’ve never met a stray before his scent changed before. This is fascinating! He smells like—” The light in her eyes died beneath a confused frown. She backed slowly away from the stray and rose to her feet with a cat’s effortless grace. “Titus, he smells like you.”
“I know. He’s been all over my clothes and he showered with my shampoo.” I gestured one-handed toward the wet footprints leading from the bathroom. “Can you get him to stand up?”
“No.” Gravity echoed in her voice as Robyn’s gaze narrowed on me. “He doesn’t smell like your clothes or your shampoo. He smells like you. That ribbon of his infector’s scent braided through his is you, Titus.”
ELEVEN
Robyn
“What?” Titus crossed the floor toward us as if shock had obliterated any trace of the Alpha’s typical caution.
Corey Morris scooted away from him frantically, but Titus dropped into a squat at his side. He inhaled deeply, and his bearing changed in an instant. Tension tightened his entire body until I worried that his muscles would snap, like cords under too much pressure. “That’s not possible.”
“So you didn’t infect him? Then why does he smell like you?” I inhaled again, to verify what my nose was already sure of. “Why is he tearing up your clothes and showering to try to scrub your scent off himself?”
Titus moved slowly away from Corey, and I could see no sign that he’d even heard me. His eyes were wide and uncomprehending, his forehead furrowed, as if his features couldn’t decide whether to look shocked or confused.
“Titus?” I reached for him, but he stepped back. “What’s going on? Did you do this to him?”
His phone buzzed from his pocket and he blinked as he pulled it out, as if he’d just woken up from a long nap. “Drew and Knox are heading home. I need you to take Morris to the basement while I clean this up.” His gaze followed the trail of footprints.
“Titus, what’s happening?” I whispered, while Corey watched us warily from several feet away.
“Get him to the basement,” he repeated, and his expression was suddenly as featureless as a concrete wall. He’d thrown a shield over his thoughts and shut me out. “Now.” Then he disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.
“Okay.” My heart pounded, not from exertion, but in sympathy and synchronicity with the stress Titus was emitting like radiation from a cracked reactor.
As if he were my Alpha.
Despite the evidence, Titus seemed to have no idea why Corey Morris carried an unmistakable, if faint trace of his scent.
“Come on, Corey, let’s get you to bed.” I gave him my hand and was relieved when he let me help him up.
“What’s going on, Robyn?” he asked as I looped my arm through his and guided him toward the hall.
“I’m not sure. But I am sure that this isn’t what it looks like.” It couldn’t be. Titus was completely shocked by Corey’s post-shift scent.
I escorted Corey down the stairs, through the kitchen and into the guesthouse, inhaling deeply through my nose, hoping with each breath to discover that I’d been mistaken. That he wasn’t really carrying Titus’s scent.
But he was. He couldn’t escape it, and neither could I.
I got Corey to rest on the bed in his cell, and while I was pouring him a glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge, the front door squealed open upstairs. Boots clomped on the steps, and I was surprised to realize I could already recognize the cadence of Titus’s footsteps.
“I need you to go get Drew from the main house,” Titus whispered. “Just Drew. Do you understand?”
I nodded, though I understood little of what was happening.
I found Drew in the kitchen with Knox, Spencer, and Brandt, brewing a pot of coffee. I tossed my head toward the door I’d just come through without breaking eye contact, and Drew followed me out onto the patio.
“Titus needs to see you. But only you,” I whispered, when Brandt’s focus followed us through the kitchen window.
Drew took off down the tiled walkway leading around the pool, leaving me to follow.
In the basement of the guest house, Drew followed his Alpha’s focus to Corey Morris, who sat on his bed, his wary gaze trained on Titus. “What—”
