. W R I T H E .

Matt | Bailey : Mongrel Bonus Chapter

An: Spoilers - this scene takes place at the end of Mongrel. To avoid spoilers, please read Mongrel in its entirety first.

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Matt stared down at the shower drain, watching his blood run the color of rust at his feet.

He hadn't expected to turn—shit, he didn't even know how he'd done it. But at some point, after all the liquor and video games, Matt had fallen asleep on Bailey's chest. Passed out to the metronome of his heartbeat, Bailey's hand curled in the back of his hair.

When he woke, Bailey had hardly moved. He laid there asleep, his head on the armrest of the couch. His fingers still in Matt's hair. Liquor still wetted Matt's veins.

But something was different.

Something was callin' Matt outside.

He left the warmth of Bailey, wandered out on the veranda. That was the last he remembered before it felt like his body was splitting apart, bone by bone, nerve by nerve.

Dahlia had done it—taken over completely. Left him with no recollection of what'd happened and no understanding of where he was. Some grove, not far from the camping grounds. He'd woken up naked and cold on the forest floor, staring up at the swollen moon, wondering if she was to blame for what had happened. Or if it'd just been too much whiskey and the excitement of Bailey's return.

Right. Bailey.

His memory of the day was sheer and dilapidated, and Matt found himself racing through the forest with nothing but a larger-than-usual leaf to hide his sensitive bits, afraid that he'd dreamt it all. That he'd come home to an empty house and feel his heart split open so he could watch himself bleed to death a third fuckin' time.

He couldn't turn—tried damn hard, but nothin' happened. Would've made the trek back a hell of a lot easier. Instead, Matt found himself walking bare-assed through the forest, all the way back to the main road.

He was relieved when he found the wrangler parked there, waiting for him. Bailey standing beside it, his arms crossed and his thumb between his teeth. When he spotted Matt, he lowered it and laughed. "Felt like a midnight jog, Matthews?"

Matt slumped down the incline toward him, scraping his legs on blackberry bushes and stickers, grateful at least for the blanket Bailey fetched from the trunk.

The ride back was short, but Matt laid slumped against the wrangler window for the majority of it, his energy drained and his blood supply low. "Supermoon," Bailey explained to him, pulling the wrangler onto the ranch. "It's a blue moon tonight. The first few times you experience them, it's hard to control."

"No one could'a told me this before this bitch wolf stripped me down and went for a naked walk-about in the woods?" When he looked up, Bailey was watching him. A certain way about him that Matt couldn't grasp. It was still so hard to know what he was thinking—hard to make sense of anything beyond that dark gaze. Matt wondered if maybe the wolf still lived in Bailey. Wondered if it was just stuck inside.

It was so damn hard to believe there was only one soul behind those eyes.

Matt had considered hosing off outside, but he was tired and cold and not particularly confident that he could brace himself for an ice shower in the dead of night. He crept to the bathroom instead, most of the blood on his body dry by now.

It felt like an eternity that he stood beneath the water, watching the red pool endlessly beneath him. Seemed like no matter how long he stood, how much he scrubbed and washed and soaped, the blood never stopped coming. He was dizzy. Aching, with no wound.