Page 7 of Animal Tamer
Damn it… I've never yearned before. Not like this. Not for a specific person, with a specific face.
My brothers have fucked in front of me for years. Cole with the women who like his knives, Jonah with the ones who like his size, Elias with whoever caught his eye for a night, before Jules, though they’ve let me see them a couple of times too. I watched, and I got what I needed from watching. I've never, not once, pictured my hands in their place. Pictured my mouth on them, my cock inside them. My skin against another person's.
I'm picturing it now.
I'm picturing her short nails digging into my back, and her low voice in my ear telling me I'm alright with the same tone she's using on Peanut.
Bile rises in my throat. I push it down—barely.
“It's not broken.” Her voice pulls me back. “There's significant soft tissue swelling and probably a bone bruise. He'll favor it for a week or two. I'm going to give him an anti-inflammatory and come back to give him more over the next five days.” She glances up at me. “Cold compresses, ten minutes at a time, three times a day if he'll tolerate it. He probably won't.”
“He will if I do it,” I insist.
“Of course he will,” she drawls.
The dryness in her voice surprises me. I almost smile. I don't.
“Are you always this generous?” I ask instead. “Or only when you've been proven wrong?”
Her eyes flash. So, she does have a backbone.
“I haven't been proven wrong yet, Mr. Holloway.”
“Rowe.”
“I haven't been proven wrong yet, Rowe. I've seen one monkey and one tent. The rest of your operation is still very much under review.”
“You're welcome to look.”
She sniffs. “I plan to.”
“Good.”
She stares at me. I stare back. Behind her, Logan makes a sound that I'm going to kill him for later.
She looks away first. Pulls a syringe from her kit, draws up the injection, and administers it into the muscle of Peanut's thigh. Peanut barely notices. He's still tucked into the warm hollow of my arm, his eyelids heavy.
“He's going to sleep,” she says, capping the syringe. “Keep him warm. Watch him for the next hour or so. If the swelling gets worse, or if he stops using the hand entirely, call me. I'll leave my direct number.”
I clear my throat. “Thank you.”
The words still come out scratchy. She glances at me, surprised, and I see her swallow whatever she was about to say.
“You're welcome.”
She rises and zips her kit. Pip drops from the rafters to a lower beam, watching her with her usual wary interest. Squeak follows. Wren looks up at them, her face going soft, and I have to look away.
“They live with him?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“They're worried,” she says like it isn't obvious.
“I know.”
“He'll be fine. Tell them.”
I huff a small sound, almost a laugh. She’s fucking adorable. “I'll pass it on.”
