To my knowledge, I have never been a tactile sleeper.

According to my mother, I had slept soundly in my crib as an infant. In childhood, I had transitioned to sleeping in my own room without issue or fuss. Later in life, when I started entering into romantic relationships, the trend continued. While content enough to cuddle during the day, when night fell I preferred to sleep on my own side of the bed. Even when my partners had complained -calling me distant or disinterested-and I made a conscious effort to be more physical, come morning I would awaken surrounded by a bubble of personal space.

Knowing this about myself, I had simply acknowledged my sleeping preferences as a matter of fact. Nothing had ever occurred to change this perception.

Not until now, that is.

Three times now I have awoken curled next to the same women, pressed against her warm body. The first two times I had ignored it, writing off the occurrence as nothing more than an oddity. Said woman had been a wolf at the time, anyway. However, this time was different. There was no denying a pattern to this behavior, even to myself.

I awaken in the circle of Shay's arms, my face tucked into the crook of her neck where her intoxicating scent is at its strongest. She breaths deeply, still asleep, and the warmth of her breath fans into my hair. Her arms are draped loosely around my body, cradling me to her without aggravating my various injuries. Still drowsy, I yawn against her collar bone. I'm warm, and content. Safe, in the truest sense of the word, encircled by Shay's body. My legs are tangled with her's and the bed sheets, skin to skin, tied with silken fabric. The sensation is pleasurable, and as I nuzzle in closer, closing my eyes again, I slide my bare calf against Shay's without thinking. The she-wolf sighs in her sleep, and I feel fingers ghost over the ridges of my spine.

It feels like the most natural thing in the world to be here like this, sleeping beside Shay. Her heartbeat drums a steady, rhythmic lullaby in my ear, and her body heat is better than any blanket in the world. I find that I am unable, or perhaps just unwilling, to move. In my drowsy stupor I suffer from no anxiety or awkwardness. I don't over think the situation, mulling over meanings or consequences. Rather, I am content to simply be. To sleep.

For a time I drift in and out of unconsciousness, but eventually my body begins to protest. The ache in my ribs is becoming harder to ignore the longer I lie still, and my bladder is full. I let out a soft, puppy-like whine as I open my eyes again, blinking slowly . I feel hazy, perhaps still a little hung over from the medication I had taken before bed. My limbs are  heavy with sleep, sluggish and difficult to move. It proves an arduous task to disentangle myself  from the still sleeping Shay, trying my best not to disturb her. When I finally manage to free myself from the tangle of blankets and limbs to roll over, the sharp ache of broken ribs tears through my body. I can't repress the cry of pain that escapes past my lips, nor the tears that well in my eyes.

At once, Shay is awake and on high alert. She sits up in bed, muscles singing with tension  and eyes wide as she reaches instinctively for me. "Nikole? What's wrong ?"
She draws me back into her arms and the security of her body, hands stroking my hair and wiping the tears from my cheeks. There's no hiding the concern in her bright, gemstone eyes, and I find myself relaxing into the comfort she offers, stilling beneath her touch.

"I'm ok." I murmur quietly. As long as I stay still, the pain in my ribs is manageable. It's changing position that seems to be problematic. "Just moved a little to quick, trying to get up. Think the pain meds have worn off."

Shay frowns, drawing back slowly, as if hesitant to put space between us. I try my best to offer her a reassuring grin, and after a moment the she-wolf finally glances away from my face, eyes darting to the clock on the bed side table. The little red letters read 3:28 pm, though the light from outside is a dim grey, and the sound of rain echoes in my ears. Aided by the stormy weather, we've slept well into the afternoon.

"Yeah, you could do with another dose." Shay confirms. "Think you can stomach some more tonic?"

My lips curl at the mere thought of the concoction's taste, but I'd rather choke it down and suffer the flavor than suffer in pain. "Yeah, but I'd like to use the bathroom first."

The werewolf nods, and without being asked, she carefully assists me into a sitting position. My head spins for a moment and I grit my teeth against the agony coursing through my body. It's not just my side that hurts. Though my ribs are by far the most miserable, there doesn't seem to be an inch of flesh that doesn't ache.  Shay helps me stand and walk slowly to the bathroom, the concerned frown never leaving her face.

"You ok, Rabbit?" She asks, and despite the grimace on my face I nod.

"Well, I feel like I've been hit by a bus, but I'm alive." I answer honestly with a grim smile.

Shay chuckles, shaking her head as she guides me into the bathroom. When my feet hit cold tile, I blink up at the she-wolf expectantly, waiting for her to give me some privacy.

She doesn't budge.

"Um, I think I got it from here, Shay." I mutter self consciously.

My mentor blinks owlishly at me for a second, then has the decency to blush. "Oh, um, of course...I'll, uh, be right outside if you need me." She promptly turns her back and shuts the bathroom door behind her.

Perhaps it is the remnants of the medication in my body, but Shay's uncharacteristic display of awkwardness is nothing short of adorable. I can't help but giggle, shaking my head as I go about my business. It's only when I turn on the sink and begin washing my hands that the black wolf cracks open the door to check on me.

"Still doing ok?"

I nod, drying my hands. Through slow moving and a little unsteady, I don't feel like I'm really at risk of falling. "Peachy." I answer, though I can't help but frown at my reflection. I look like a complete mess; many of my bandages are loose or bloody. The small amount of skin left uncovered is mottled with ugly bruising, painting me in a pallet of unsightly browns, purples, and yellows. My face in particular is pretty bad. Due to my fractured cheek bone, the left side of my face is so swollen that opening my eye is difficult. Perhaps worst of all is my hair, however. The long, brown tresses are matted into an impressive rats nest. When I discreetly sniff at a strand of crusty hair framing my face, I notice it smells like stale blood, and cringe.

"Wish I could take a shower though, or at least wash my hair. I'm feeling pretty gross." I sigh wistfully. Unfortunately I can hardly move my left arm; even the slightest jostle sends a jolt of pain straight to my ribs. That pretty much eliminates any hope of me bathing myself.

Shay stares at me thoughtfully, biting lightly at her lower lip. She sounds almost shy when she speaks. "If you want, I could help you with that...I need to change your bandages anyway. It wouldn't be any trouble to wash your hair in the sink."

Now it's my turn to stare and blink. "You want to wash my hair?" I ask stupidly.

Shay rolls her eyes, looking more than a tad flustered. "I can, if you want. It's better than the alternative, right?"

The thought of smelling the way I do for even another hour has me nodding in agreement. "Okay, um, sure. If it's not too weird?"

The she-wolf shrugs. "It's whatever. Just let me grab a chair. Hang tight for a second." Shay disappears back into the bedroom for a moment, then returns rolling in the chair from her desk. She positions it in front of the sink, and motions for me to sit. Hesitantly, I do.

A downy soft towel is wrapped around my shoulders as the tap turns on and the water begins to heat. I suddenly feel quite mortified. "Look, you really don't have to do this. It's not that big a deal, I'm just complaining and-"

Shay waves me off. "Stop, Rabbit. It's not a problem. I don't mind if it'll make you feel better."

I bite my tongue as Shay gently guides my head back towards the sink. My breath catches in my throat as she wets my hair, gingerly massaging my scalp with her fingers as she disperses the water through my blood stained tresses, staining the sink pink. She's careful not to tug too hard on any of the tangles, working slowly and gently. When my matted mane is appropriately wet, Shay grabs some shampoo out of the shower and resumes her ministrations.

The scent of the soap is mild, not too astringent or floral. It smells vaguely of coconuts. Breathing it in, I feel myself relaxing. I glance up at Shay to find her concentrating on my hair. Fuck, it actually feels really nice. Really really nice. Shay's hands are deftly talented, and the water is warm. My eyes slip shut, and as nails gently scrape the sensitive base of my skull, I tilt my head back further, arching into the sensation. A soft, keening moan of pleasure escapes past my lips, and suddenly Shay freezes.

My eyes flutter open lazily in question. Hovering above me, the black-wolf has stilled completely. Her eyes are wide, pupils dilated, but she's not looking at my face. No, her gaze is fixed intently upon my exposed throat. She looks bewildered, and hungry.

"Shay?" I murmur, swallowing thickly. The werewolf tracks the movement of my throat with her eyes. For a moment, Shay looks like she's ready to bite me, to bury her teeth in the delicate skin of my exposed neck. Then she shakes her head, as if trying to wake from a dream, and continues her task without meeting my gaze.

"Sorry." She mutters gruffly. "Spaced out there for a second. Guess I'm still a bit tired." Her face, once flushed, bleeds pale.

I bite my tongue, refusing to call Shay out on her lie. What was that, exactly? My mind whirls with possibilities, some negative and others...I wasn't entirely dense. I was capable of recognizing desire in the face of a woman. Despite recent years of lycanthropy-imposed celibacy, I was no virgin.

Yet, there was something else -something more-in Shay's eyes that kept the butterflies in my stomach at bay. She had wanted me in that moment, or at least she had wanted to bite me....but she had been scared to do so.

Oddly enough, my typical hyperactive sense of danger is no where to be found. I didn't feel scared, wounded and exposed as I was, completely at the mercy of the dominating woman standing over me. No, I knew now with utmost certainty that Shay would never purposely hurt me. If anything I felt flattered, and fuck it, a little aroused.

Shay must feel it, because her hands tighten in my hair, just a fraction, and she closes her eyes as she stifles a groan. "Rabbit..." She sounds almost as if she's in pain. Breathless and strained. "I think we need to cut back to a half dose on your meds...you're broadcasting." Her own energy is adamantly restrained, making it impossible for me to get a read on her own emotions.

I hide my reddened face with the hand attached to my functioning arm, letting out an embarrassed groan of my own. It doesn't help matters that Shay is still intent to finish washing my hair, unhurriedly massaging my scalp, hitting sweet spots at the nape of my neck and behind my ears. "Fuck, sorry. You're just really good at this. Ever think about working in a salon part time?"

My attempt to lighten the mood and dissipate some of the sexual tension between us succeeds. The she-wolf snorts with laughter and shakes her head. "No, but now that I'm aware of the talent, maybe I'll start job hunting." Now that she's finished shampooing my hair to wash out all the blood, she's focused on applying condition and combing out all the knots with her fingers. Damn, I'm really getting pampered here. Even the slight sting in my scalp when Shay tugs a little to hard at a particularly nasty tangle is pleasurable. I'm forced to stifle another moan, biting the inside of my cheek.

The entire thing is a lesson on self control, and by the end of it my face is stained with pink. However, I can't deny how much better I feel now that at least my hair is clean. Shay had been sweet to offer, and her touch and been attentive and soothing. The she-wolf gently towel dries my hair, and I look up at her with a new found fondness.

"Thanks, Shay." I murmur with a small smile. My mentor returns the grin, lopsided and warm.

"No problem, Rabbit. Feel better now?"

"Oh yeah. Hopefully I smell a bit better too."

Shay chuckles, and ruffles my damp hair affectionately. "Think you can handle having your wounds dressed now? Or do you want your meds first?"

I wrinkle my nose, not at all eager to choke down the vile tonic. At current, with minimal moving around, my pain Is bearable. I'm not comfortable by a long shot, but I don't feel like I'm dying. If nothing else, the agony of shifting has raised my pain tolerance to an impressive level. "I think I'll be ok."

Nodding, Shay gathers up the supplies she needs then reaches for my shirt. She had  the forethought last night to help me change into a loose button up and a pair of cotton shorts; attire that was easy to change out of despite having a number of broken ribs. The shirt must be hers, because it hangs low on my thighs, and the sleeves have been rolled up over my wrists.

Before she undoes the first button, her eyes find mine in question. "You're not planning on freaking out on me here, are you?"

I glare at her indignantly despite my flushed cheeks. "Only if you decide to make an ass out of yourself."  Shay's answering grin is decidedly wolffish, and I roll my eyes. "Just get on with it."

The she-wolf works slowly, undoing each button with the utmost care, as if any sudden movement might send me into a flurry of panic. Beneath the shirt, I'm nude save for the bandages that bind my torso. I suck in a breath, trying to ignore the self conscious impulse to cover myself. Think rationally, I tell myself. This isn't sexual. It's clinical. I try to imagine Shay as a frumpy old nurse, or worse, my mother. It helps some, and I manage not to flinch when the shirt comes away and my mentor starts undoing the wrappings around my breasts.

Shay is as meticulous as she is gentle. It's obvious she's had a lot of practice with this. She cleans and re-dresses my wounds with all the skill of a trained professional, hands steady and sure. The few times I flinch in pain, Shay offers quiet apologies, and releases a soothing wave of energy that warms my skin and makes my heart flutter. I find myself closing my eyes, letting my mind wander to other things as I wait for her to finish.

When I open my eyes again, no longer distracted, I'm horrified to glimpse the torment written all over Shay's face.  There's such guilt in her expression, such self-loathing, that I feel my heart break. She looks like she's the one in pain.

Impulsively I reach for her, curling my fingers around her jaw, forcing her to meet my gaze. It doesn't take a genius to guess what she's thinking.

"This isn't your fault." I growl, angry that Shay is still blaming herself.

She shakes her head, trying to pull away, but I don't let her. "I was the one who put you in danger. If I hadn't forced you to come to the mountains, you wouldn't be hurt. I'm supposed to be your sire, I'm supposed to be responsible for you, I-"

"This isn't your fault." I repeat. "You couldn't have foreseen me getting hurt. You were just doing what you thought was best." Shay sighs, looking anywhere but my face, and I growl again. "I'm going to keep saying it until you get it through your thick skull. This is not your fault. You didn't kidnap me and drive me to the mountains against my will. You didn't attack me. Shay, you idiot, you saved me. You saved us all. If you hadn't of come when you did, if you hadn't killed those rouges they would have-"

The words die in my mouth. With a tiny whine, uncharacteristic of her dominating persona, Shay wraps her arms around my shoulders and buries her face in my neck. "Don't say it." She whimpers. "If anything had happened to you, or Marian, or any of the others...just don't say it. I don't want to think about what could have happened."

Instinctively, with heart-shattering fondness, I drape my arms around my tortured mentor. My physical pain is nothing compared to her emotional suffering. "Ok, it's ok. I get it." I shush her gently, stroking my fingers through her short black hair. "Let's not talk about it right now. Lets just get cleaned up, and I don't know, veg-out on the couch or something. We deserve a day off, right?"

Shay makes a noise that's half sob, half chuckle against my throat. She pulls back slightly, her stunning eyes shimmering with unshed tears. God, she's beautiful in that moment; open, and sad, and so vulnerable. She's the most incredible creature I've ever laid eyes on, and I can't take my hands off of her. My fingers comb through her hair, and trace over her regal cheekbones. The she-wolf sighs, eyes fluttering shut, and she turns her face ever so slightly to nuzzle the palm of my hand.

Finally, she smiles. "I think we deserve several."

I smirk, nodding my head. "Agreed. Now let me return the favor and change your bandages. Then what do you say to breakfast?"

Her growling stomach and pink cheeks are the only answer I need. Giggling, I swap places with Shay, and assume my turn as care-taker. Her wounds are mostly superficial; claw and bite marks decorate her body with morbid trophies. Gently as I can, I clean each one and apply new dressings. By the time I'm finished, the rainstorm outside has diminished to a misty drizzle.

Getting down the stairs is a slow, arduous process. Shay wraps an arm around my hips, and I throw one over her shoulders. We support and help one another balance, taking one stair at a time. When we reach the bottom floor, I heave a sigh and sink into Shay's steady embrace.

"Great, now I'm tired again." I complain half heartedly, sweat beading on my forehead with only the light exercise.

Shay angles me towards the living room. "Let's get you to the couch, then." She helps me limp over to said couch, where I promptly and dramatically drop onto the plush cushions with a huff. Shay laughs and shakes her head as I stretch out, quickly getting comfortable. Ever the attentive hostess, she grabs a blanket from the nearby chair and drapes it over my prone form. I grin up at her sheepishly.

"Thanks, Shay."

"Don't mention it, Rabbit. Just give me a second and I'll be right back with your medicine and something to eat."

"Don't you want to sit down first? You're hurt too, you know." I frown, scooting over with a grunt to make room on the couch.

Shay just shakes her head, and re-tucks the blanket around my shoulders. "I'm fine, so don't event think about getting up. It's more work to pick you up off the floor."

I pout up at the she-wolf, glaring as she smirks and turns her back. With heavily lidded eyes, I watch as she busies herself in the kitchen. From the pantry she grabs a small metal tin, and scoops something that looks like tea leaves into a saucepan filled with water. The moment the tincture begins to boil, I recognize the scent of the foul medicine. It fills the apartment, and even covering my face with the blanket doesn't bring much relief. 

Thankfully, it boils quickly. Once Shay has strained out the leaves, and put the tonic aside to cool, she starts on breakfast. The smell of eggs scrambled with