I’d barely cleaned it, and it was especially obvious with my hair pulled up out of the way.
And there was no other reason he would let out a growl so angry at the sight of me.
“That fucker,” he hissed. “Didn’t he at least tend to it?”
“No,” I mumbled. “Why didn’t you tell me that you have a sister?”
West was halfway across the room to me, and he stopped short at the question. “They mentioned Violet to you?”
“Phoebe said you were a good guy, and I asked how she knew you.”
He cursed under his breath, moving toward me again until he could reach out and brush his fingertips against my shoulder. “Can you sit down? I’ll help you clean that wound and tell you about Violet.”
Placing my hand over the bite mark, I frowned. A part of me didn’t want him seeing it, and especially didn’t want him touching it. West being up close and personal with the mark left by my scent match made it too real.
It was a reminder that he’d never be able to mark me himself, now.
Not unless Benjamin died or accepted West, Conrad, and Mercer into his pack—which they would never agree to. I didn’t want to be connected to that sociopath, so why would they?
I slumped backward against the wall, weakness clutching my limbs again. West placed his hands on my hips, carefully maneuvering me back until I could sit on the stool. I let my hands drop from my neck with a whine.
“I don’t want you to look at it,” I whispered.
He kissed my cheek and grabbed a fresh wipe from the bathroom counter. “Why not?”
“Doesn’t it make you not want me anymore? I’ve been claimed by someone else.”
“Someone who never should have fucking touched you,” he growled. “If Conrad’s claim had stuck weeks ago, you would have been safe with us.”
He hesitated before touching my injury with the wipe, then gently pressed down on it. I winced.
“I wish it had been a successful claiming bite,” West admitted quietly. “You’re in so much danger with us, but I couldn’t have imagined you’d be in more danger without us.”
“I’m in less danger than you think.”
“You don’t understand our world, Talia?—”
“My name is Talia Alfieri, you know. I understand perfectly fine. Is it clean yet? I want to go to the nest, please.”
West had frozen at my last name. I couldn’t blame him. It was a bit of a bomb to drop, but it felt wrong to keep it from him now. I would call my family as soon as I was settled in my nest and my heat was causing me a bit less cursed pain, and then I wouldn’t be able to hide from the truth any longer.
I was the daughter of a mafia pack.
“It’s… probably clean enough,” West grunted when he found his voice again. “Let the nurse take a look at it next time she comes in, please.”
The thought of it being touched more gave me a tingle of disgust, but I nodded. “Fine.”
“I’ll shower and then join you.”
He stripped off his shirt, dropping it into a hamper in the corner of the room. I stared at his bare chest, not getting up. He’d undone his jeans before he realized I wasn’t moving. “I can help you to the nest, little omega.”
“Clean me off, first.”
“Haven’t they already bandaged up some of your other injuries? We shouldn’t get those wet.”
“I don’t care. I want to be clean.”
I’d been crawling around on the ground, fallen into a ditch. They’d helped me wipe off the worst of the dirt, but my skin felt sticky and Benjamin’s touch was branded onto me. I needed to wash it all away.
