Mateo takes me home, I am hoping my parents are there, but when we pull up, their car is gone. Jumping out of the truck, I mindlink them, hoping they aren’t far or are on their way back.
"Where are you guys?"
"Grocery shopping, what's up, Pumpkin?" Dad asks.
"I'm at home, I came to pick up some things, but you aren’t here."
"You must have just missed us; the bathroom window is open. You should have told us, we would have waited."
"All good, I will break in then," I chuckle at the thought
"Okay, Pumpkin." I cringe at the nickname.
"Dad, you really gotta stop calling me Pumpkin."
"But that's your name."
"It's not my name, dad. My name is Katya," I tell him.
"But to me, you will always be my little Pumpkin," he retorts. I internally groan, no use arguing. I am sure he would legally change my name to it if he could. All this over an incident with a pumpkin when I was a baby. An incident he is never going to let me live down.
Zoning back into my surroundings, I look at the house.
"So what are we doing?" Mateo asks.
"I get to break in," I tell him, walking around the side of the house to the bathroom window. It is barely open. Mateo watches as I slide it all the way open, the window is narrow.
"There is no way you will fit," he observes, assessing the gap.
"I have fit through smaller," I tell him with a shrug. Grabbing a chair from the back patio, I carry it to the window before climbing on it. Scrambling to hold onto the window frame, I put my head and arms through before shimmying to my side and pulling myself through sideways.
Looking down, I note I am directly above the toilet which is open. Not wanting to go swimming, I close the lid with my hand so I don't go headfirst into it.
Now for the hard part. I wiggle my way in until my legs were the only things left outside. Pain throbs in my leg as something slices into my thigh.
Unfortunately for me, gravity takes control and I'm hurtled into the closed toilet. Whatever it is slicing into me, cuts down my entire leg and I crash hard into the porcelain throne.
Mateo laughs at me outside. I hiss in pain, wishing I had something to throw at him, I'm stuck in the gap between the toilet and the wall.
His laughter stops cold. "Kat?" he asks. There's fear in his voice. "Hey, why can I smell blood? You okay?"
I roll back and forth, trying to free myself. I manage to pull myself by my arms out of the little gap. Standing up is rough, and my knees tremble like a little fawn's. At any second I could fall right back down.
Looking down I assess the damage. My tights are drenched in blood, the tiles I landed so professionally on are also smeared with the ruby liquid.
"Kat?" Mateo's panicked voice echoes from outside.
"I'm fine," I reassure him, with another wince. He will probably be all dramatic if he could see me right now.
"Open the front door," he orders all humor aside. I glance down at my leg, then turn to look at the window, trying to figure out how I did it. A bloody nail sticks out of the window frame and I groan, fuck me!
Mateo bangs on the door like he's trying to escape Angie herself. I hobble to the front door, my leg burning with every step. I open it.
Mateo looks down, a panicked noise leaves his lips when he notices my gray tights soaked in blood. "Fuck, Kat," he says, scooping me up against his chest.
"I'm fine, it's just a scratch," I tell him, he was seriously overreacting. Mateo walks into the kitchen, placing me on the dining table. "Mateo calm down, I'm fine," I repeat.
However, he won’t listen. "The Alpha is going to kill me, show me your wound," he demands, tugging on my tights.
"Seriously, it's just a scratch, I will go change and then we can go," I tell him, pushing him away, and jumping down off the table.
A weird whimpering noise leaves his lips, and his eyes focus on a ruby puddle left on the table before they drop to my leg.
He doesn't waste a second. He grabs my tights and rips them apart like wet tissue paper. I shriek, trying to grab the remnants and pull them back up, but Mateo smacks my hands away.
"Mateo!" I shriek, but he is already kneeling down, examining my leg.
"That is not a scratch Kat, you need stitches. Wait, why aren't you healing?" he's crouched by my leg and looks up at me with his head tilted.
"No wolf, remember, also can I go get some pants?" I ask, my face burning up.
"Hush, I have seen plenty of girls naked, and you're not even that naked, you have panties on," he scolds me. He gently prods the jagged line going from my hip to just above my knee, I flinch at his touch.
"Will you stop that? It stings!" I hiss at him.
Mateo peers up at me. "Where is your first aid kit?"
"Above the stove." He runs off to go and get it. He returns, opening it and grabbing some gauze and alcohol wipes. I nearly slap him when he dabs it with an alcohol wipe, instead I fist my hands at my sides to fight the temptation, it really fucking hurts.
"Stay still, fuck Kat, we need to go, it won't stop bleeding," Mateo says, after my wound saturates the gauze for the third time. He grabs a bandage, wrapping it around my leg while I lean on the table.
Mateo quickly cleans up the mess, because I refuse to let my parents come home to it and freak out thinking I have been murdered, my body dragged off into the woods. He also helps me into a new pair of tights that haven’t been ripped apart.
When he is done Mateo comes over and scoops me up, making me roll my eyes. "I can walk you know," I inform him.
"I know you can but I’m faster," he says, pecking my cheek and then the side of my lips.
He tenses. "Sorry, I shouldn't have done that," he mumbles, opening his truck door. He gently places me on the seat then grabs my face. He opens his mouth to say something then shakes his head. "Let's go home," he says instead, letting me go and walking around to the driver's side. Mateo is tense on the drive back to the Packhouse.
"Hey, are you okay?" I ask him. It's surreal to see him serious for so long.
"I shouldn't have kissed you," he answers, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.
"I would hardly call that a kiss, besides the other day you licked me," I deadpan.
"That was different, we were messing around," he says, running a hand through his hair, before side-eyeing me.
"I don't see what the big deal is?" I comment with a shrug
Mateo glances at me, then turns his eyes back to the road. "Ezra will be really angry."
"That you pecked my cheek?" I question, raising an eyebrow at his words, seriously? "Why would he be upset? It's not like you have to tell him."
I hiss as we hit a bump and Mateo mutters something too low for me to hear. I shift on the seat uncomfortably, my pants sticking to it, and my shoe fills with blood.
"Argh, crap. I'm bleeding on your seat," I apologize. My blood stains his seat as it soaks into the fabric; Mateo glances over at me. It's going to be a bitch getting that out.
"It's fine, Kat," he says, reaching over, and squeezing my fingers before watching the road again.
We pull up out front, and Mateo hops out of the car, opening my door and grabbing me, carrying me like a princess back to the Packhouse.