Paul didn't bother to unlock the door and open it super quietly, or any of that shit. His urchin knew there were people there, although it never occurred to Paul that she might not know it was him.
"Urchin, I'm home. Where are you?" Paul called out, taking the groceries in as far as the threshold and ignoring them for the moment as he dropped them haphazardly in a pile in the entryway to see where she was.
Bella didn't want to run and hide, but she was really, really scared. Her nap had been abruptly canceled when the sound of a hand hitting the door jolted her from sleep. Cautiously she had sat up, straining to hear what had made it and then fleeing from the couch when more than one male's voice could be heard on the other side.
That Paul man had come back and he brought friends. There was no way she could get to the basement and back out; she should've tried to run when she first heard the first voices, but had assumed he was alone. She could handle one attacker; more than that and she was doomed. Why had she thought he wouldn't share her?
"Hey, can you hear me?" Paul called out again, sensing her presence down the hall and in his room. Her heart sounded really fast and Paul was flipping the fuck out. Could starvation cause a person to have a heart attack?
Passing the living room, he frowned realizing she hadn't taken the pill he had left out for her. Grabbing the small package, he continued on, his worry increasing by every inch of space he covered.
Clearing his bedroom's doorway, he stopped short, taking in the balled up figure in the corner of his room. She was crouched low to the ground, holding the blanket from last night in front of her like a shield. Just like Sam had said, she hadn't showered or bathed.
Stepping further into the room, Paul could see her trembling increased, slowing his own movements until he was still a good eight feet away from her. Bending his knees, he waited until she decided to look up at him, his face showing nothing of what he was feeling.
Finally she peeked up, the fear practically oozing out of her eyes.
"Hey," Paul said quietly, trying to show he meant no harm as he came closer. "Are you okay; how's your head?"
Her eyebrow twitched, but other than that she gave no indication as to what, or how she was feeling.
"Look, I wanted to say I'm really fucking sorry about forgetting there was no food here. Do you think you feel like coming into the kitchen with me and deciding on dinner? A friend went shopping for me and…"trailing off, Paul became immediately t concerned when she started to shake, clueless that telling her about friends was as good as outright hitting her.
He knew she had hurt herself on the tree so when his little urchin's fingers clenched tightly, digging into the new wound and permeating his senses with the smell of blood, he kind of fucking panicked.
"Shit! Don't hurt yourself," he ordered, his hand shooting out to grab her smaller ones.
He slipped one finger in between her fingers and gently lifted it up, enough so that her fingers weren't embedded in flesh and he could see her palms.
"Jesus, what the hell did you do?" Paul asked more to himself, seeing his girl's dirty and blood streaked hand. There was entirely too much dirt for her to have just climbed a tree.
Tugging the blanket away as well, Paul watched his urchin cower further; her pants that had been slightly clean, now utterly fucking filthy with mud, leaves and twigs.
He'd fucking kill Quil if the ass had dragged her through the forest.
Pulling his finger back, Paul stood up, watching as she closed her eyes and panted.
"Stay right here; I'll be right back." Darting into the bathroom, Paul grabbed a washcloth to wet, searching for a box of band-aids.
Toothpaste, deodorant, hair gel—had he ever even used that shit?—q-tips, shaving cream, cotton balls—oh goody, he could glue them to saran wrap and make his own fucking band aids!—there wasn't anything of helpfulness or use here.
Of course, he didn't have any goddamn bandages, being a mighty wolf and all. He slammed the cabinet shut, deciding that he'd just have to make do. Paul went back to his girl, plopping his ass down right next to her and grabbing her left wrist.
"It's just water, Urchin, it won't hurt okay?" he said, using his previous finger method to open her hand; for being such a wisp of a girl, she had a fucking tight ass grip.
He had to use some force to access her entire palm, chatting like an ass the whole time. "I'm just going to clean you up and then we can eat, okay?" Paul explained as he pried each individual finger up to run the washcloth over, paying close attention to her dirt encrusted nail beds.
"it's not really that bad," he remarked, moving on to her right hand, noting that she was probably right handed since the largest gash was on that palm. If it had been a fellow wolf, he probably would've rubbed hard with the cloth, not giving a rat's ass if it fucking hurt or not. The fact that this minuscule pad belonged to not only a girl, but his urchin's, made Paul hesitate. Knowing the shit wasn't going to disappear on its own, he brushed away most of the bigger pieces of dirt before dabbing delicately at the actual wound. It was only bleeding along the edge, from when his girl had applied pressure.
"You're going to have to be extra fucking careful, Urchin," Paul said, wiping her last dirt encrusted digit. Dropping the cloth into his lap, Paul kept his finger inside of her palm, his wolf practically drowning in drool over the way she clung to it tightly.
His own stomach began to gurgle for food and Paul sat back against the wall feeling like shit. Why did this have to be fucking tough? He didn't care that she needed help; he just wished it wasn't such a hellish struggle every time.
"You can stay in here if you want to, but I have to go put some of the stuff away; a lot of it probably needs to go in the fridge," Paul finally said, turning his head and cracking open an eye to peer at the girl.
At least her eyes weren't dead, Paul thought somewhat happily, watching the brown orbs focus on nothing in particular.
"I'll come back to check on you in a little bit, or if you want, you can come out there, okay?"
As Paul stood to leave, her eyes followed his movement. He stood there just staring at his little urchin until he realized her trembling hadn't ceased. Sighing he ran a hand over his head, wondering what he should be doing.
Bella watched when the Paul man finally left, confused as to why he was waiting so long to hurt her. The monsters sometimes did that, watching her anxiety grow and laughing when they'd make a mock grab for her and she'd jerk away.
Listening closely she realized that the Paul man was actually alone. She didn't know where he had sent his friends, but men couldn't stay quiet like this for very long. Stretching out her sore muscles, she weighed the benefits of leaving the room versus staying until he came back. He had mentioned food and while it could be a trap, it was one Bella needed to consider heavily.
If it wasn't, she could be missing out on possible future supplies. If it was a trap, he'd only hurt her sooner than he planned to anyway. Resolution set, she slowly crawled up the wall until she was standing, carrying the blanket and taking hesitant steps to the kitchen.
As she passed the living room, she decided to set the blanket back on the couch, not wanting for the man to use it against her. He could still take it away from her, but if he didn't realize how much she liked it, maybe he'd let her use it again.
Paul knew the exact minute she had moved from her previous perch, listening to the slow way she approached the kitchen. He wasn't used to female company acting shy and he couldn't decide if it was nice or not. He didn't want his little urchin to be scared of him, but she definitely wasn't one of those loud, obnoxious giggling sorts.
He could feel her hovering in the doorway, immediately recognizing the tactic. She was still scared and wanted to be the closest fucking exit as possible.
Shit! What did he have to do to get her to trust him?
Talking would be nice, his subconscious remarked snidely. The fucking shitter sounded a lot like his inner wolf, too.
"Urchin, I was going to make some soup and sandwiches for dinner. Do you want ham or turnkey and what kind of soup do you want?" Pointing the counter where he had left some supplies, he waited to see if she'd show any preference over another and would then remember that for later.
Time to start acting like a fucking imprinted wolf! That shitty subconscious reminded Paul.
A test? Bella thought blankly before being bombarded by thoughts of her past decisions. The demons had done this, too, asking what she wanted and then telling her that was wrong when she finally chose. She was really happy that she had found some food earlier; otherwise she'd probably be disappointed when she made the wrong choice and he took it away.
Bella couldn't help herself as she inched her way towards the cans, making a wide berth past the Paul man to see the cans. Studying the pictures carefully while constantly glancing towards the large male figure mumbling to himself, she contemplated what would work best.
It was cold and not only would soup warm her up, but fill her tummy as well. However, after eating soup—from past experiences—she was often quickly hungry that much sooner. Plus, as she stared intently at the pictures, most looked kind of thick and would take extra time to gulp down; if she was to eat soup, two gulps of a thinner one would be more beneficial than one of a thicker variety.
Turning to stare directly at the Paul man, she raised her hand to the thinnest looking soup; a broth with noodles. The picture that was made up of a creamy base on the can next to it almost made Bella salivate on the spot, but she had to plan for the future.
Paul turned his head, watching as his little urchin's hand hover atop of the classic chicken noodle soup. It was one of the older versions more water than anything else and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why she'd want something so plain unless she didn't feel well.
"That's the one you want, Urchin; are you sure?" Paul asked, sending Bella into a panic.
He watched as she froze and then carefully nodded her head, not staring at the selection, but straight ahead to the wall in front of her. Shrugging he leaned over to grab the can, clutching tightly to the cylinder when his urchin stepped back.
"What about a sandwich to go with it? Did you want ham or turkey? Paul asked again, jerking his head towards the bags of meat sitting out, watching his urchin fret.
"Tell you what, I'll just give you both and if you don't like it, you can pull off whatever you don't want okay?" Paul finally asked, anxious to eat, so they could talk, or whatever it was they used to communicate.
She said nothing, resuming her hovered spot in the doorway, as he heated up her soup in a bowl using the microwave and then doing the same for his own. While waiting, he quickly assembled a plate of sandwiches; most with mixed meat, but a few with just one or the other. Still his little urchin didn't talk as he handed her three plates stacked on top of each other with the top one full of sandwiches and juggling the steaming bowls of soup and drinks for them.
"Do you want to sit at the table?" He asked when she failed to move. "I usually just sit on the couch and watch TV but we can sit at the table if you want to."
Bella had no idea people ate on couches and the idea sort of felt wrong to her. What if the Paul man, or she, accidently spilt the soup or dropped a sandwich? The thoughts of being forced to clean it up and punishments sent Bella scurrying over to the table, hoping he was okay with it.
She debated briefly over whether to sit with her back to the rest of the room, or in a corner where she might not be able to run as easily from. The Paul man could have friends show up and Bella might not see them come up behind her. That idea alone sent her to the corner seat, furthest in the room, but held the best view. Sometimes it was better to prepare e for what was coming rather than being taken by surprise.
She sat the plate down in front of her, unsure what she needed to do. The Paul man took a seat right next to her, pushing a bowl in her direction. Obviously the sandwiches weren't for her and with a small frown she pushed them towards Paul to take her soup. She had really been counting on being able to snag a sandwich for her pocket even though she still had part of one in her pocket and another safely stowed outside.
Paul could do nothing but continue to frown when his urchin didn't grab a sandwich. She had to fucking know she was able to, right?
Three swallows into her soup and he couldn't keep his trap shut any longer. "Are you going to eat a sandwich, urchin? They aren't all for me, you know, but I will eat them if you don't want one."
Tipping her bowl to her mouth and completely ignoring the utensil lying beside her- holy fucking shit, it was kind of sexy-Paul admitted, the small girl glanced towards him. Just as slowly she set the bowl down, her hand creeping up and across the table for a sandwich. It hovered for a minute as if judging his words, before grabbing a sandwich to place on the edge of her bowl.
Paul felt like a first class pervert. His imprint wasn't doing anything but eating and he was watching her do so like a damn strip tease, the wolf constantly relaxing with each next mouthful of soup she drank.
"I noticed you didn't take a shower today," Paul remarked casually and then wanted to rip his tongue out of his goddamn mouth as his urchin seemed to shrink further in her seat.
"You can, you know," he clarified, wanting to make sure she knew it was alright. "You can take a shower, or bath, or whatever you want to do."
Still, she remained scrunched in her seat, her eating slowing down to almost nothing.
Shit! Why the hell hadn't he just kept that idea to himself? She probably thought he was making fun of her!
Paul tried like shit not to eat like there was no fucking tomorrow but he was confused…and kind of a fucking werewolf. Eating like a pig was natural.
"Do you like to dip?" Paul asked unexpectedly, dragging his ham and cheese into the gooey mess of tomato soup he had chosen for himself.
He wouldn't have normally chosen such a plain ass soup, but he didn't want his imprint to feel awkward. Paul had no idea where that fucked up thought had come from.
His urchin stared in surprise, her mouth slightly open as he did so again, relishing the feel of food sliding down his throat after such a hard day at work. Another heavy scoop and he held the next bite out to her.
"Do you want to try? It's really good," he encouraged stretching his fingers nearly to her parted lips, her eyes dropping to stare cross eyed at the offered food.
Paul almost pulled his hand back, thinking she wasn't going to take a bite when his little urchin leaned forward to nibble a bit of his offering, her eyes now glued to his face as she did so.
Paul thought his inner wolf was doing a fucking can-can dance, the sudden rupture of euphoria and eroticism almost making him drop his food on the table. He had done the edible panty thing before with past fuck buddies, but there was nothing as sexy as watching his girl take a bite from his own goddamn sandwich that he was holding!
He wanted to weep in joy, drag her into his lap and beat the shit out of his wolf all at once. Had he fallen off a roof at work and suffered brain damage? Good god, no man's dick should be this hard over watching their girl eat! It couldn't be normal.
And yet, when she had eaten the first portion covered with soup, he quickly dipped the bread again and then held it out, trying not to giggle like a fucking five year old when she took the second offering as well.
"I told you it was good," Paul commented after her second bite, ready to deliver another. His little urchin gave a small smile before dropping her eyes again to her own food.
'I can get you a bowl if you want it," he offered, halfway standing up before her head began to shake.
Slowly, Paul sank back into his chair, confused. If she liked it, why didn't she want some of her own?
"Do you want mine?" He offered, nudging the bowl in her direction only to stop again when she shook her head.
His urchin sat the rest of her sandwich off to the side, leaning back in the chair and sighing…contentedly, he hoped. She made no further attempts to eat any more of her own food and Paul tried not to fret like a bitch over the small amount of food she had consumed, her bowl of soup more than three-fourths full and her sandwich barely a quarter eaten.
Shrugging mentally, he went back to his own food, scared to fucking death of saying the wrong thing to her and pretending not to notice when he watched her watching him as she snuck her hand out to grab another full sandwich; this time disappearing beneath the table, only to reappear just as quickly.
He knew—could guarantee it to the tee- that his imprint was hoarding a sandwich in fear of not getting more to eat in the future. Briefly, Paul wondered if he could excuse himself from the table for a minute to go cry like a bitch. This was just sad.
"I need to ask you something," Paul stated ten minutes later, his urchin suddenly sitting up straighter in her chair.
His goddamn wolf started to whine an irritating sound of caution. It wasn't the type of caution sound where you could possibly be ambushed by a blood sucker from the trees above and needed a proper alert. This was an annoying, buzzing sound of caution you heard when some dick told you to 'be careful' while hauling a fifteen thousand dollar piece of stained glass. 'Duh' didn't even begin to cover it.
Pushing aside the mentally furry snout that kept nipping at his ass, Paul decided that asking directly—no froufrou sidestepping- was probably the best approach. "You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to; I can deal with that. But I need you to either nod yes or no: Are you at least eighteen years old?"
Oh...oh! What was the right answer here? Bella panicked mentally. If she indicated she was eighteen, the man might use her sexually, thinking it was okay since she was no longer considered a minor.
But what if he wasn't interested in her if he thought she wasn't illegal? He could turn her over to the cops and tell them she had tried to rob his friend.
If she indicated she was less than eighteen though, the man might prefer that and try to have sex with her. It had worked in her favor a lot in the past when she was bringing gifts to the monsters.
He could also not want her to be young and if she indicated she wasn't, he could still turn her over to the cops, disappointed that he couldn't keep her.
Bella didn't want to be kept, but she really didn't want him to call the cops and he had fed her! That went a long way in her book and she was willing to be kept if it meant sleeping on the couch for a time and being used. As long as he didn't hit her or call in friends. If he did that, she'd leave in a heartbeat.
Slowly she nodded her head yes, she was at least eighteen years old and then cringed, waiting to see what would happen.
Paul had literally held his fucking breath while his urchin debated on whether or not she was going to answer him. The fact that it had taken almost two minutes worried the shit out of him although it also could have been partially from oxygen deprivation.
Inhaling and exhaling loudly, Paul relaxed back into his chair. He had no reason to think she was lying and once he learned her name, he could easily find out if she was telling the truth. If she wasn't…he'd let her stay anyway and get to know her. Of course he wouldn't be able to get to know her, know her, but if she was willing that'd be the first thing they did when the clock struck twelve of her eighteenth birthday.
Fuck! What the hell was wrong with him? It was beyond wrong to be thinking about sexing up his urchin and yet he couldn't stop himself
"You're sure, right? I mean, whatever age you are won't change what I'd like to propose, but I think we should be somewhat open with each other, okay?" Paul asked to appease his sudden conscience.
At her small nod, he continued.
"So here's the deal," he said, not easing her tension at all. "I want you to know that I don't intend to hurt you, okay?"
Paul was ready to sign an oath in blood that he would never fucking hurt her. Fuck, he'd write the entire declaration in blood if it made her happy and allowed for trust!
Searching his words for any and all hidden meanings Bella couldn't believe her luck. She didn't immediately trust him, but he hadn't hurt her yet and…well… he fed her! That was the biggest bonus in her book. The only people who had fed her before had either told her they planned to use her, or had done so already, tossing scraps of food at her shamed stance. This Paul man had actually given her a full meal and apologized for not doing so earlier.
"In fact, if you want," the Paul man babbled, "you can stay here for however long you wish."
The words had no sooner left his mouth when the Paul man was scooting his chair closer to hers to suddenly grab her hands. Not roughly, but softly, allowing his fingers to gently squeeze her small hands before releasing them and letting his own cup hers.
"I can't explain it to you yet, but if you agreed to stay with me until the end of time, you'd make me a very happy wol-man."
He watched as she flinched and then tried to cover it up by wiping her chin against her shoulder, uneasy with his sudden bout of affection. He had no choice though, he had to let her know she could count on him and eventually love him.
Probably sooner than eventually if he wanted to keep his wits, the wolf reminded Paul.
"I swear the thing with today and no food is not going to ever fucking happen again, okay? If you need, or want anything just tell me and I'll get it for you," Paul pledged, hoping she'd really fucking do it and let him provide for her.
His urchin looked really scared and Paul couldn't help himself any longer. In one move, he had her in his lap, her heart beating quickly against his own steady tempo.
"I know we have to move slowly; hell we're practically strangers, but I need you to understand that I will be whatever you need. There's no pressure, or rush; whatever you want, I'll do it if I'm capable of it."
Bella missed what the Paul man had said, her heart beating erratically as she waited for the pain to start as soon as his arms were around her. She tried not to tense, knowing that any blows she'd receive would hurt more in doing so. Her body knew this too and slumped on its own. She could neither fight this Paul man, nor run away right now; he would easily catch her like this.
Paul didn't hit her, though, nor did he even know that's what his urchin was anticipating. He was too busy struggling with both his needs and the needs his wolf explained to him to just hold this precious gift and revel in the feel of her so close and safe. Softly he nuzzled her neck, pleased when she tilted her head to allow for more room to do so. If he let go of the wolf, he knew the activity would quickly rise to something more…
…Tender nipping, sucking and licking of other intimate and vulnerable areas.
He could imagine running his tongue along the base of her throat, soft sighs of contentment as he explored her neck and ears, searching for the pleasure points that would make his little urchin melt into his capable hands. Already she seemed to have relaxed and Paul couldn't help himself, his lips lightly attaching to the spot just beneath where her jaw bone met her neck, the unsteady rhythm of cardio system slowing into a sluggish state of unworried cadence.
The loud ring of his phone caused the growl to slip from Paul unexpectedly. He was kind of fucking busy at the moment and god help the dipshit who thought now was an ideal time for a social call.
When he pulled back to look in her eyes, she saw the desire from this Paul man and something…else? Whatever look he was giving her was certainly screaming something to do with sex, but there was more to it and Bella didn't know what it was. It may have soothed her body, but it frightened her mind and she wiggled slightly, relieved when the Paul man let her go and return to her own chair, hastily standing to grab his phone.
"Yeah," Paul barked into the receiver, wishing he had left the damn thing on silent...or in the jeep…or crushed under a rock somewhere, far, far, away so that he could go back to holding his girl.
"Paul? It's Sue. I was calling to see if your friend—Leah told me her name was Ariel- was still okay and if you needed me to come over and have another look."
"No, that's not a good idea at the moment. She's okay and we were just eating dinner. Can I call you later?"
"Paul…have you even checked the gash on her abdomen? The stuff I gave you will help some, but I wasn't kidding. It's a deep wound and if it is infected, you might not be able to tell until the source has grown outwards. By then, it could have spread to other internal areas and then we really won't have a choice and she'll need to be hospitalized."
Paul chanced a look at his girl. She was idly staring at her plate and occasionally poking at the rest of her sandwich.
"Sue, I know you mean well, but could you please stop scaring the shit out of me with your crazy talk of worst case scenarios? I appreciate your call, I really do. For now, though, I'm going to hang up, finish our dinner and then recheck her wound. If it even looks like there could be an incurable infection, I'll personally carry her over to your house myself and then the entire gang can bitch me out while we drive to the hospital. Have a good night; bye." Dropping the phone as carelessly as he had answered it, his attention turned back to his silent girl.
"Okay, Urchin, are you done eating?" Paul asked happily, feeling anything but.
She didn't look up when she nodded her head, but climbed off the chair to stand next to it, waiting for…Paul didn't have a fucking clue.
"Great! So…umm…have you thought about what I've said?"
-An affirmative nod.
"And you're willing…you want to stay here for awhile?"
-A less enthused affirmative nod, but a yes just the same.
Striding over to where she was, Paul tugged at her hand to lead her back to his room where he sat her on the edge of the bed before disappearing into his closet.
"I think we should be honest with each other. A friend told me you were outside today which would explain all of the new dirt you have on you. I'm not mad," he reassured his imprint, sticking his head out of the closet to study her expression.
"But it's late and we don't have enough time to make a run out to Port A to get you some things," Paul said before muttering to himself, "and I sure as hell don't need to see another pack mate tonight."
Giving up in hopes of finding anything even remotely small enough for her to change into he grabbed one of the few long sleeved shirts he owned, placing it on the end if his bed before opening his armoire.
"However, it'd be really fucking stupid of me to think you'd want to stay in that. So, I'm going to…there are those fuckers…I'm going to let you wear this stuff until we can figure what to do tomorrow," Paul announced, holding the pair of sweats he had been searching for and adding them to the shirt pile.
His little urchin did not look impressed, not that he could blame her. His clothing was fucking huge on chicks and while some of them thought they looked sexy to him wearing his shit, he personally thought they looked like anorexic camp victims.
"Go change and then I'll put some of that medicine on your stomach. Does it hurt?"
His urchin ignored his questions, quietly picking up the clothes he had set out and then shuffling towards his bathroom. She hesitated once inside of the darkened bathroom, her hand slowly closing the door as she watched his face. He wondered what she was waiting for.
The seconds clicked by painfully slow as Paul waited for her to turn the light on in there and begin to change. He heard the rustle of clothing but still the light remained off.
"Hey, Urchin, the light switch is on the wall closest to the door," he offered, thinking she just hadn't been able to find it. "Oh, and like I said, you can take a shower. I bet you feel kind of dirty, huh?"
Paul leaned back and tried to relax when he heard her finally flip the switch. There was a lot of shuffling and then the sound of running water. Knowing he probably had a lot of time—women took fucking forever in the bathroom—he took of his boots, socks and shirt, throwing them into a hamper and then padded out to the living room to grab urchin's medicinal goo.
Resuming his spot on the bed, Paul realized that the water was no longer running. Had his ass been lollygagging that long? He heard the light click off before the door opened, a head bowed urchin shuffling out and wearing the stuff he had offered.
She looked cleaner, but utterly fucking ridiculous with one hand clenching the waist of the sweats to hold them up and the other hand alternating between each leg to lift up as she tried to make it over to the bed. It was also kind of obvious she hadn't showered or bathed, not that Paul was about to say shit about it.
"Shit, Urchin, that crap just hangs off of you. Hold on," Paul said, leaving his room to go find a pair of scissors.
Shoving them in his back pocket, he came back into his room, lifted up the still shuffling imprint and placed her standing on the bed, away from him.
"Hold still. This will only take a minute," he muttered. Pulling some of the loose fabric away from her ankles, he snipped a hole, carefully inserting one side of the blades to trim of the excess crap.
"That's a little better, huh?" he asked, turning her around when he was finished and bringing her body downwards as he sat back on the bed, his imprint lying prone next to him.
"I'm going to check your stomach and put on some more goo. Then I'll go throw your other clothes in the wash. You're free to keep these, but I don't think we can make them fit enough to be comfortable," Paul explained, casually glancing at her as he pulled the shirt up and then did a double take.
Paul couldn't keep the anger from his voice. "What the fuck happened? This is really bad, Urchin."
It looked as though she had made an attempt to clean her stomach, but Paul could still see streaks of dirt and fresh blood lines. The gash itself had clotted, a noticeable swelling to the surrounding tissue and damn near glowing red with inflammation.
She didn't say anything, but stared directly at Paul, terror beginning to fill her eyes.
"Shit, Urchin, I'm not mad at you; I just don't want to have to take you to a doctor," Paul hastily explained, grabbing the medicine. "They're going to fucking know right away that this is a knife wound and then they'll expect you to answer their questions."
Looking back over the area, Paul could only shake his head. "Sit here while I go get a washcloth. I know you washed up, but I need to double clean it."
It was a moment like this that Paul wished he could just explain to his urchin that if he licked her, it would help clean up whatever infection she may or may not have. Saliva contained a lot of different antibacterial, antiviral and growth factors to help clean and grow new skin. In regular humans and animals, the chance of adding a secondary infection was high since saliva also contained some germs that were immune to the healing properties. Being a wolf eliminated that pesky problem.
With a few cleaning supplies, Paul returned to her side, studying the best way to accomplish fixing her. He carefully cleaned the wound first, working his way outwards away from it and leaning in close with the pretense of needing to 'see closer' what he was doing. He actually used the disguise to sniff the area for any signs of bacteria, trying not to sag like a fool when nothing obvious was present.
"Urchin, you need to be more careful, okay?" Paul advised when he was done rubbing the ointment in, his inner wolf practically lying on his back in joy over the ability to touch her in this manner.
Best squash that shit, fast! Paul thought as he tugged her shirt back down. Grabbing the waist band of her sweats, he produced some safety pins he had found earlier in his bathroom desperation and worked to tighten the pants so they wouldn't fall down on her.
"Okay, we're done," Paul said, grabbing her hands to pull her up into a sitting position and noticing the earlier forgotten pill.
"Shit," he mumbled under his breath, grabbing the foiled package and turning to give his girl a sheepish smile. "I forgot. This is medicine to help make sure your scratches don't become infected."
Holding out the item, Paul waited for his urchin to accept it. When all she did was stare, he opened it himself, showing her the chalky tablet. "It's okay, just swallow it and we're really done."
His urchin looked like she certainly didn't want to swallow the pill. She stared at the fucking thing as if it were an L-pill; a type of disguised cyanide capsule spies used to carry. Paul kept his cheesy ass grin of encouragement plastered to his face until she did take it, grimacing the whole time as it moved towards her mouth and was eventually swallowed.
His damn wolf whined again, sending out the comforting thought of stroking her neck to help make it go down easier.
"That wasn't so bad, huh?" Paul asked when she looked back up to him. "What do you want to do now?"
Bella looked towards the bathroom where she had forgotten to put her coat back on. The Paul man had said he was going to wash her clothing and she worried he meant her jacket too. Not that it didn't need cleaning, but she hadn't thought about putting her other sandwich somewhere else.
"Right, your clothes. I'll go throw them in the wash now," he told her, heading into the bathroom.
Frozen, Bella watched as he grabbed the pitiful bundle, giving her a wink before he left and leaving Bella to panic some more. He might not want to check her pockets, but if he didn't and washed it with a sandwich, Bella was pretty sure it would leave an obvious mess and then she'd be in more trouble.
Scrambling off the really nice mattress, she tried to race after him, hoping he would give her a second chance for stealing the sandwich and not asking about the first one she still had.
He had almost disappeared into the closet when he turned around quickly to watch her skid to a hobbling stop.
"What's wrong?" He asked her, not sounding mad at all. Actually he kind of sounded…concerned? And was staring at her feet again.
Bella pointed to her clothes, hoping he'd just hand them back over.
"They're dirty, Urchin. I'm just going to wash them and then you can have them back, I promise," he explained.
Watching his face carefully, she took a hesitant step closer, ready to back away if he moved in an aggressive manor. It was eerie to Bella how patient he seemed, not at all like a person, but a lot like a demon. The closer she got, the more relaxed he looked. Finally in close enough range, she raised her arm slowly, grasping just a corner of her jacket and giving it a slight pull.
Bella had no idea that Paul immediately deduced what she was seeking and he decided to help her out without being obvious.
"Oh, you have something you need to take out?" he asked, still smiling. "Go ahead. I'm going to go downstairs, just toss it down and I'll throw it in last.
Clamping her mouth firmly shut at her good fortune, she waited until he had gone down the stairs before pulling out her treasures, wondering where the heck she could hide them. The Paul man had promised he was going to wash the jacket and she assumed that meant he would wait until she threw it down before he came back upstairs.
She knew the plastic that now held two sandwiches would protect her food from getting dirty and felt no hesitation, sneaking into the kitchen to stow it away in the cabinet she had slept in under the sink.
Leaning over the quickly filling washer, Paul closed his eyes and breathed deeply to center himself. Sooner or later, he knew he'd have to tell her she didn't have to hide shit from him. However, these little acts made her feel safe and he wouldn't take that away. His breathing deepened, the scent of her strongly emitting from around him; too strong, considering her clothes were emerged in water. Lifting his head, he realized that she must have been down here earlier in the day looking for something. He took a step around the machine to the wall behind it, the tiny window located closest to the washer not latched.
Ghosting his fingers around the edge of the window, Paul both marveled and damn near fucking cried when he realized this was how she had managed to leave. His mental calculations weren't wrong; a normal person would not have been able to fit through the opening but his urchin was well below normal and with enough incentive—like fucking hunger—she could have slid through without a single centimeter to spare.
When the soft swish of fabric hit the ground behind him, breaking him of his window thoughts, Paul threw it into the running wash, quickly returning back to his girl in hopes of more bonding time.
A/N: Kudos to my beta, Shadowpast620.