03-Strength of the Mate (25 page)

“I didn’t feel calm,” said Adam. He could still feel Dawson’s hands cradling his face. The memory of his soft voice still had a soothing effect.

“None of us feel calm.” Paul chuckled. “Marines are trained to keep our shit together under fire. And we don’t always do as good a job of it as you. Ready?”

Adam locked the door and fell into step with Paul. Paul headed for a Humvee that sat idling on one of the few paved roads that cut through Camp Fallujah.

“We’re not walking?” Adam asked, lifting one eyebrow.

“The hospital’s clear across camp, and I don’t have the time to walk, today,” Paul replied as they climbed into the vehicle.

“Did Dawson leave you in charge while he runs around with four paws and a tail?” Adam managed a smile.

“Let’s say he deputized me to handle anything that requires language skills beyond a bark and a howl.” Paul returned Adam’s smile.

“Does that include babysitting me?” Adam couldn’t help sounding a little annoyed.

“Do I look stupid to you?” Paul glanced at him in surprise. “You need a babysitter about as much as I do. With Jason stuck as a wolf for the next day or so, you’ll need someone to translate werewolf culture and ritual for you.”

“Why is that?” Adam’s gut clenched. Why did Jason have to wait days to shift?

“So you can be around Dawson without constantly wondering what the hell the weres are doing, and why.” Paul made the right turn onto the road leading to the hospital.

“Is there something I need to do? To help them get settled down?” Adam looked around at the front of the hospital. He’d expected more vehicles, since the wounded were transported with Humvees from helipad, a quarter mile away.

“Stay close to Dawson,” Paul answered as he parked the vehicle. “Give him physical contact when he wants it. Don’t hold back on the ear and chin scratches, we love that shit.”

Adam laughed at Paul’s honesty. He climbed out of the Humvee, slamming the door behind him. “Tummy rubs, too?”

“Only in private.” Paul’s grin was wicked. “We’re more wolf than human when we shift. We understand language, but it’s more conceptual than literal for us. Keep things simple and focus on basic, primal needs. He probably won’t need food, but water and affection, definitely.”

They passed between two painted, white signs. One bore a red cross, the other a red crescent moon.

As they stepped inside, Paul removed his utility cover, stuffing it into a pocket on his uniform pants. Navy medical personnel were everywhere. Paul strode past the desk covered in computer monitors. Adam followed him down another corridor, discreetly labeled ‘SHIFTER MEDICAL FACILITIES’.

At the far end of the hallway, Paul pushed through a set of swinging doors. Inside, more Navy medical personnel bustled around. On one side of the room, cots lined the wall. Many were occupied by injured humans. Or at least someone in human form. Along the opposite wall were thickly padded bedrolls. Many of these were occupied by wounded animals. Most were wolves, but Adam saw at least one fox, and what he suspected was a leopard.

Paul got the attention of a passing nurse. “Excuse me, ma’am. Is that Corporal Jason Rodriguez?” He gestured toward the nearest red wolf.

“Yes it is,” the nurse replied. “Are either of you shifters?”

“I am, ma’am,” Paul assured her. With a gesture toward Adam he said, “And my friend’s brother is mated to a True Alpha werewolf. We won’t be any trouble, ma’am.”

“Okay, good,” she said brusquely. “Enjoy your visit.”

Paul gave the nurse a charming smile. One that used to weaken Adam’s knees. “Thank you for your help, ma’am.”

“Let me guess,” Adam said. “Humans that don’t know a lot about shifters cause problems for everybody.”

“That’s part of it,” Paul answered over his shoulder. “Also, werewolves heal faster with physical contact, so visitors are encouraged to touch the patients. Since we’re familiar with werewolves, no one has to explain it to us.”

Adam caught sight of two Marines stretched out on a bedroll, a wolf asleep between them. All three were twined around one another in sleep. It was a startling sight. “I bet that freaks out people who don’t understand.” Adam inclined his head in the direction of the puppy pile.

“You’d be right,” Paul said. “Hey, Rodriguez, you lazy asshole.” He dropped down onto the bedroll, lifting Jason’s head onto his lap. He gestured toward the space at the wolf’s back. “Before he shifted, Dawson said it was okay for you to end up smelling like Rodriguez. He thinks this’ll be good for both of you.”

Adam sat down behind Jason, gingerly pressing his side along Jason’s spine. “Why would Dawson have a problem with me smelling like Jason? And why should he have a say in whether I visit my friend in the hospital?”

Paul gave him a strange look. “Those marks on your neck are the answer to both questions.”

Adam’s face flamed and he looked away. He sighed. Tim had told him as much a couple times already. “I’m still not used to all of this,” he said quietly.

“Remember what I said about ear and chin scratches?” Paul demonstrated by rubbing Jason’s ear.

They laughed at Jason’s low groan of pleasure.

Adam reached out tentatively. He buried his fingers into the thick fur at the back of Jason’s neck and began to scratch. He watched Jason’s eyelids grow heavy.

“I’d like to talk to the vet so I can give Dawson an accurate report on Jason’s status,” Paul mused, glancing around the busy room.

A Navy doctor entered through the swinging doors. He carried several large x-ray films. They sat in silence, watching him slide one into the clasps of a light board. It looked like an x-ray of a dog’s front leg and shoulder. Adam wondered if it could be of Jason.

He was surprised when the doctor turned off the light box, grabbed the film, and crossed the room to where they sat.

“Are you a pack-mate of Corporal Rodriguez?” he asked Paul.

“Yes, sir,” Paul replied quickly. “Adam Madison is our pack leader’s companion. His brother is mated to a True Alpha.”

“I’m Doctor Askenov. I’m one of the veterinarians here at Camp Fallujah,” the man explained. “I’ll be taking care of the corporal during his stay with us.”

“Honored to meet you, Doctor,” Paul replied. “Thank you for your help. How long will Rodriguez need to stay here?”

Askenov held the x-ray up to the light so they could all see the image. “No more than two days, I think. The bullet only nicked the leg bone, then passed right through the soft tissues.” He indicated a slightly deformed portion of the leg bone. “The fracture is small. We’ll keep him sedated for twenty-four hours. That way he won’t shift, and he’s not tempted to stress the leg. Once I’m sure it’s stable, we’ll let him shift. He should heal completely, with no sign he was ever injured.”

“Which means he can return to full duty?” Paul’s question was filled with optimism.

“Not for twenty-four hours after he shifts,” Askenov cautioned. “But yes, barring any complications, he’ll return to full active duty.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Paul’s smile showed his relief. “I’ll inform our pack leader. Thank you for taking care of him.”

“You’re welcome, Sergeant,” he said nodding. “Mr. Madison.” Askenov took the x-rays back to the light box.

“He knew you were a werewolf,” Adam said, still watching the vet. “Is he a shifter?”

“Wereleopard,” Paul replied.

Adam would never have known. He wondered if Tim could spot shifters on sight.

As they sat with Jason, Paul filled him in on the status of the convoy’s return journey. Adam had no idea the Marines did so much, kept track of so many things, while all he did was drive a truck. He was impressed.

“We should get going, dude,” Paul finally said to Jason. “Dawson has all the wolves gathered in that open area down by the housing trailers. You know he’ll be agitated until I get Adam over there. I’ll make sure some of the guys come visit while you’re here.”

As they stood, Jason burrowed deeper into the bedroll. His eyes drifted shut.

Adam chuckled. “He’s acting like he’s stoned.”

“He sort of is,” Paul said with a smile. “We better go.”

In the corridor, Adam realized he had an injured driver he should check on. Paul followed him to the nurse’s station. After a short game of question and answer, the nurse typed and clicked the computer, until she found the info Adam was after.

“We patched him up and kicked him loose,” she said. “The wound was minor. He needs to come back every few days for a bandage change, but he’s going to heal just fine.”

Adam was relieved. He knew, first hand, how bad gunshot wounds could be. “Thank you for your help,” he told the nurse, smiling widely.

They climbed into the Humvee, and Adam finally relaxed back against the seat. When Paul finally turned the Humvee onto the paved road running beside the housing trailers, Adam caught sight of a pack of wolves in the distance. They were in the small dirt lot adjacent to the first row of trailers. When they got a little closer, Adam saw the small pack milling around the center of the lot, staying close to each other.

Pulling to a stop, Paul said, “I’ll drop you here so Dawson can be close to you, again. I gotta go return the Humvee to the motor pool. Be back in a few.”

“Sounds good.” Adam climbed out and closed the door behind him. He watched Paul drive off in a cloud of diesel fumes.

Before Adam could take a step, Dawson was in front of him. He nosed at Adam’s neck, his breath warm when he exhaled against Adam’s skin. Dawson circled Adam, sniffing as he walked. He brushed his sides against Adam, almost knocking him over.

“Watch it,” Adam said with a laugh, pretending to be annoyed. He reached out to steady himself with a hand on Dawson’s back. He remembered what Paul had said earlier. Adam moved his hand to scratch behind one of Dawson’s ears.

Dawson sat down beside Adam. They were close to each other, so Dawson’s fur brushed against his arm. It tickled a little, but Adam liked it. The warmth of Dawson’s body crossed the space between them. It brought his masculine scent along, as well. Adam took a slow, deep breath. A wave of tiredness rose up from out of nowhere, and broke over him. He draped his arm around Dawson’s shoulders and leaned against him.

They stood together silently, and watched the other wolves. Sometimes, they looked like they were playing. Other times, Adam thought they were comforting each other. He watched the wolves drag their cheeks and flanks against one another. They licked each other’s muzzles with what looked like affection.

Paul appeared on foot, from between two of the trailers. He was carrying something. Dawson stood up, slowly walking toward Paul. Adam was curious, despite how tired he was, so he followed just behind.

“They’re gonna be out here for a couple of hours, so you’ll wanna sit down, get comfortable.” There was a patch of shade between two trailers. Paul unfolded an olive-green camp chair, and set it in the shade.

“Thank you,” Adam said gratefully.

“You’re welcome.” Paul handed him a large, unopened bottle of water. “You’ll need this, too. I’m gonna head to the mess for some empty containers. These guys need to stay hydrated, too.” He gestured toward the clustered wolves.

When Paul was gone, Adam sat down heavily in the camp chair. He was surprised how sore and tired the muscles in his legs and lower back were. The coolness of the shade felt really good, too. Adam sighed in relief.

Dawson watched him for several minutes, before trotting across the clearing to join his wolves. Adam took several long drinks of water as he watched. Dawson walked into the center of the pack, holding his head high. The wolves circled him, rubbing against him, licking at his muzzle.

Adam’s chest tightened painfully. He’d lost his right to his family’s love—to anyone’s love—but he could still remember a time, before he’d fucked up. It was all so easy for the werewolves. They cared for each other freely, and they touched openly. Dawson knew just what they needed from him, and he gave it without hesitation.

Adam wondered what it would be like, letting someone touch him for a reason that wasn’t sex.

A large gray wolf stood directly in front of Dawson, mouth wide open and tongue lolling in a playful smile. Suddenly, the wolf splayed all four paws. He lowered his shoulders toward the ground, keeping his tail end lifted. Dawson lunged playfully at the wolf, giving a single, high-pitched bark. The gray wolf darted off at a run, several others following him.

The pack kicked up clouds of dust as they played. Some played games of tag. Others had wrestling matches with no clear winners. Dawson drifted from group to group. He gave every wolf some time and attention, but he didn’t linger with any group for very long.

Two wolves caught Adam’s attention with their tussling. The bigger of the two would wrestle the smaller one until he pinned him. Then he’d let him up to run around, and they’d start all over again.

Adam’s laugh became a gasp when a long-buried memory assaulted him. He and Jase used to wrestle in the backyard of the house they all grew up in. Since he was a couple years older, Adam was a little bigger than Jase. He’d pin his younger brother, just because he could. They’d laugh like idiots, and Mom would yell at them for swearing at each other. Then he’d let Jase up, and they’d start all over again.

The stabbing pain in his heart took his breath away. This was Adam’s penance for surviving his failure. He rested his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands.

He fucking missed his brother.

Adam startled when warm breath ghosted across the top of his head. He sat back, finding Dawson studying him with intense violet eyes. Dawson whined softly. He lay down in front of Adam, resting his head on Adam’s lap. He kinda wished Dawson was this good at reading Adam when he was in human form.

Swallowing against his tight throat, Adam scratched each of Dawson’s ears. It was comforting. Adam needed to shut this the fuck down, right now. If he didn’t, he’d miss it when Dawson inevitably moved on.

“I’m good now, thanks,” Adam said quietly, dropping his hands from Dawson’s head. “I think your pack needs you.”

Dawson lifted his head. If an animal could look skeptical, that’s how Dawson looked. Adam couldn’t help smiling. Slowly, Dawson stood and turned to return to the pack.