Dane turned without warning, his wide eyes meeting Jag’s gaze in the sparse light. “Jesus… how are you not in the hospital? Did you run away?”
Jag stilled, taking a deep breath as his knees wobbled. “I’ve recovered, and I’m here to take you home.”
Dane’s eyes became even wider as he looked down Jag’s torso. “What if you get infected or start bleeding? Does anyone know where you are?” he asked, grabbing Jag by the shoulders.
Jag had to fight his own eyelids from drooping when Dane’s face became two. “I came here on my own. You think I can’t overpower you even now?” He locked his hands on Dane’s forearms and pushed, but there wasn’t much force behind it. In truth, if he hadn’t been holding Dane, he would have probably fallen over.
Something strange was happening in his head, almost as if it were filling with cotton where there should be brains, and Dane gasped, staring at Jag’s stomach.
“You’re bleeding!”
Jag took deep breaths in an attempt to keep in moans of discomfort as he met Dane’s gaze. “I am strong, healthy, and capabl—”
Chapter 16 – Dane
Dane couldn’t fucking believe this.
Blood stained the front of Jag’s hospital gown, but he was a dead weight—a considerable one at that—and no matter how hard he and Mark tried, they couldn’t move him in an orderly fashion.
“What’s happening?” Dad asked from the armchair, trying to rise just before Mom pulled him back down.
“They’re carrying a man. Imagine Jesus put into the grave after the crucifixion.”
Dane grunted, increasingly worried about Jag’s state. How had Jag found him? And, more importantly, had he walked here all the way from the hospital? After surgery? The fucker was mad!
“Why? Who is this, Dane?” Dad asked, and seeing him so distressed reminded Dane why he’d try to keep them in the dark about the details of what had happened to him.
Mark shook his head. “It’s okay, Dad. The guy’s fainted and half-naked, he won’t hurt anyone.”
Mom grabbed her phone. “I’ll call the police.”
“No!” Dane said in an instant as they put Jag on the sofa, scorched by the scrutiny of his family. They knew something was up and awaited an explanation, but thinking was a struggle when Jag’s face was so pale in contrast to the red stain on the green gown. Jag was like a wounded wolf with more bark than bite, but he’d already started thinking about him as his wolf, and he would not let him perish.
With a soft sigh, he pushed a pillow under Jag’s head and arranged him in a prone position before peeking under the thin garment. Three gazes made his back prickle, but he couldn’t help the growing worry in his heart and checked the wound first. Some fluid was seeping out, but the suture mostly held—at least that was what Dane’s sparse medical knowledge suggested.
“What the fuck did you do, you idiot?” he muttered, smoothing the front of the gown before arranging Jag’s arms so they weren’t twisted or hanging down. The poor guy didn’t need to wake up to even more discomfort.
“Should I… tie him up?” Mark asked, and all of Dane’s hair bristled, as if he were a mother bear that had just sensed her cub was in danger. Jag seemed so vulnerable out of his usual surroundings where he was the master of his territory and wielded a spear.
“No,” he growled and looked away when his younger brother’s brows shot up. “He’s harmless. I think it was… uh, post-operative delirium.”
Whether something like that existed didn’t matter. What he did have to consider instead was how to proceed, because he had no way of assessing Jag’s state. Driving him to the hospital would have been the best option, but Frank and Shane would be waiting there, and the thought of endangering his family terrified Dane to the bone.
“We’re still waiting for you to tell us who this is,” Dad said in a stern tone he rarely used, but Mom passed Dane a blanket with a resigned expression.
“Whoever this is, whatever has happened, you can tell us, sweetie,” she said and stroked Dane’s shoulder.
“My girlfriend would have said he’s handsome,” Mark remarked, causing Dane’s brain to cook in its own steam.
“What is that supposed to mean?” he muttered, checking Jag’s forehead for signs of a fever, but stalled when Dad spoke.
“Have you been with him?”
The silence couldn’t have been denser.
“W-what do you mean?” Dane uttered, turning his head to look at his parents and brother.
His hands got damp. His face heated. And his heart beat so fast his breathing could barely keep up.
Fuck.
“I—”
There had never been a good time to come out to his family. Dane didn’t want to be a burden in their already stressful lives, and it wasn’t as though he’d had serious boyfriends to bring over for Christmas. How would he even begin explaining what had happened between him and Jag?