These Cages We Build for Ourselves

Chapter 17

Aster's heart is still thundering as he extracts himself from the clutches of the girl. Nash stretches out on the ground, making himself non-threatening, but it doesn't seem to help. Without a word, Aster scoops up Nash's scattered clothes and they head back to his room.

Nash slips into the bathroom, his claws clicking against the tile. The shift ripples through him, fur melting away until he's standing on two legs again. The deep gash that tore through his front leg now spans his forearm, ragged flesh that would need a dozen stitches on anyone else. He leans over the sink and lets warm water wash away the blood, revealing skin that's already knitting itself back together. In a few hours, it'll be nothing but a memory.

Taking a steadying breath, Nash steels himself to leave the bathroom. His clothes are still in Aster's room, and while he's not bothered by Aster seeing him naked, the room's way too small. If Aster stares at him like last time, his body's going to react, and there's nowhere to hide it.

But when Nash emerges, Aster's not looking at all. He's perched on the edge of his bed, fingers threaded through his hair and digging into his scalp as he draws careful, measured breaths. Every instinct in Nash's body screams at him to rush over, to comfort, to protect, to fix whatever's wrong. Instead, he forces himself to focus on gathering his clothes and getting dressed. What Aster needs matters more than what Nash's wolf wants.

Before Nash can figure out his next move, Aster pushes up from the bed with a sigh and disappears into the bathroom. The door clicks shut, followed by the rush of running water. Nash sinks down onto the bed where Aster was sitting, the warmth of his body still lingering in the blanket, and waits.

When Aster emerges, he's stripped down to just his boxers. The sweater lands in a corner with his other dirty clothes as he crosses the room. His damp hair clings to his face in pale waves, water droplets trailing paths down his bare chest. Nash's eyes catch on the necklace still hanging there—his tooth, his gift—and something primal stirs in his gut.

Aster moves like Nash is just another piece of furniture, climbing onto the bed and sliding past him without acknowledgment. He snags a blueberry muffin from the container and settles in, focusing all of his attention on slowly eating it. Each piece breaks away under his fingers before disappearing into his mouth. When a crumb falls onto his stomach, he swipes it up with his thumb, and Nash's gaze follows the motion before he can stop himself.

The stretch of Aster's body has ridden his boxers low, revealing a trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband. But there's something else there—brown ink peeking out above the elastic, another tattoo Nash hasn't seen before.

Aster tugs his boxers back up. "That one's meant to be a secret."

Heat floods Nash's neck as he winces. "Sorry," he says. "And while I'm at it, I'm sorry for doing the same thing when we first met. I was there for work, I was a stranger, and someone my size needs to doubly watch themselves to not come off as creepy. There's no excuse for looking at you like that."

"You think?" Aster asks around a mouthful of muffin. The words should bite, but they come out genuinely curious. His finger taps one of the runic circles on his stomach. "Look at this."

Nash follows Aster's finger to the runes. He's not sure what he's supposed to be seeing other than supple skin and the imperfect lines of the design. They don't really look like the lines of a typical tattoo. They look more like henna, though they can't be; that would have faded by now.

Nash really likes the one that rings Aster's nipple, drawing his eye like it's the centre of a target. He finds himself reaching out, drawn to that little nub. He wants to find out what it feels like pinched between his fingers.