Jaime cupped Finn’s giant, gore-covered maw with both hands. “He’s dead. Come on, let’s clean you up.”
He’d dropped the phone in his haste to get out of the way of the tumbling wolves, and didn’t know where it was now. He should call Silas back, should call Sheppard and DA Rivera and Sam. He should tell them all that they were alright, that they were alive. But all of that could wait, because Finn, still a giant wolf, was giving him that vulnerable look.
As if, despite the ferociousness he had just demonstrated, one frightened glance from Jaime would gut him.
So Jaime led him over to the kitchen sink, wet down a towel with warm water and began cleaning the blood and viscera off of his face and neck. Lifting one giant paw at a time, he gently wiped down his claws and toe pads. Finn stood still the whole time, letting Jaime fuss.
Finally done, he left the soiled rag to soak and turned back to Finn. He was staring at him, eyes still warm and pleading. “I see you, Finn. And I am not afraid. Please, can I hold you?”
Finn’s face melted. With a whine, a tremor passed through him and then thick, hairy arms were banding around him, Finn’s lips and descended canines pressing into the skin of his neck, his hair, his collarbone. Jaime realized that he was trembling, too.
Between short kisses and demanding hands and too-tight hugs, soft, shaken, words passed back and forth between them. Apologies, and assurances that they were alright, and thank-you’s spilled out in a rush, both talking over the other.
Jaime told Finn to stop apologizing.
Finn assured Jaime that he was ok, more than ok, he’d only been knocked out and tied up.
Jaime promised that Bishop hadn’t hurt him either, hadn’t touched him, that Finn arrived just in time and had saved him. Smacking kisses all over his face, wherever he could reach, Jaime continued to thank him for coming back, and told him that he was amazing.
That he loved him so much.
Finn pulled away, a grave look on his face. “I never wanted you to see me that way.”
Jaime cupped his face, fierce pride swelling in his heart. “I amgladthat I saw you that way. You are my mate, Finn. And I am yours. And if our roles were reversed, if you were the human and I was the wolf, I would have done the exact same thing. I would have torn him apart for threatening you. I will never accept an apology from you for that.”
Finn blinked, and then yanked him back into his arms, channeling all of that ferocious will into a passionate kiss, demanding entrance with his tongue, consuming Jaime whole. Finn’s kiss showered him with adoration and gratitude for being his mate. For seeing him, even his worst parts, and loving him. Not despite them, but because of them.
Jaime felt it all through that kiss, and fed his own pride and love into Finn through their connection. Eventually, they pulled apart long enough to realize the phone was ringing non-stop from somewhere under the destroyed coffee table.
“Shit. I called Silas when Bishop got here, he heard everything. He’s probably panicking right now.”
Jaime found the phone first, and picked up the call, putting it on speaker. “Silas. We’re safe. We’re fine, both of us. Finn got here in time.”
He could hear white noise in the background, like Silas was in a vehicle. But the sob that came through the line wasn’t Silas. “Jaime. Oh thank God, Jaime. We thought—all we heard was… Oh my God.”
Sam. Sam was in the car, on the way to see him, and he was crying.
Silas spoke then, voice still a distorted rumble like it had been earlier. “Finny? Are you alright?”
Finn had one arm wrapped around Jaime, guiding him over the broken furniture to sit on the counter, away from the giant beheaded wolf across the room.
Yikes, they’d have to figure out how to deal with that.
“Si. I’m here, brother. I’m ok.”
There was a long pause, but eventually Silas choked out, “Good.”
Jaime stared at the mess before them, avoiding looking at the giant wolf’s body as much as possible. He cleared his throat. “Um. So, not to put a damper on things, but there is a very large,very dead, decapitated wolf in the living room. Who is also a man. What are we going to do about that?”
He heard Sam’s wet chuckle, and it warmed him.
Silas also cleared his throat, some of that grated rumble dissipating. “Sam recorded the entire conversation. Up until the phone cut out anyway, when we heard Jaime shout…” he took a deep breath. “We sent it to Sheppard. We’re on our way; we have been since you first called. Sheppard is right behind us. We’re letting him figure out how to handle Monroe PD. I suppose it’s both better and significantly more complicated that he’s dead in his wolf form. Anyone who isn’t in the know will just think a very large animal attacked you, and you defended yourself. But if we decide to tell the DA the truth that Bishop is dead, things will get very weird.”
Jaime heaved a sigh. “What about all that stuff about Jeffrey Dugan wanting the three of you dead? And his real motive for killing Vera? And why would he want to kill you, anyway?”
Finn looked up, shocked, and Jaime remembered that he hadn’t heard the same things they all had. “I’ll fill you in later,” he mouthed to him.
Bishop had called Silas a “reject alpha”. Did this all have something to do with why he was kicked out of that pack as a child? Slowly, Silas answered. “I’m sure Sheppard is relaying the information we have about Jeffrey Dugan to DA Rivera as we speak, so that he’s arrested and can’t hurt anyone else.”
