Friends With The Monsters - Albany Walker Page 0,3

it takes a little maneuvering to get it out from behind him.

I’m panting with exhaustion when I’m done. The dude is solid and heavy. I wipe my inner arm over my forehead. “You did a good job, buddy. Now we just need to clean you up and stop the bleeding. Sound good?” I know I’m talking to myself, but I’m kind of freaked out.

I reach for the hem of his thin black shirt. When I pull it free from his skin, the blood soaking it makes a slurping sound. “Ewww,” slips from my lips when I drag it away.

I shudder but force myself to continue. I reach a roadblock again when the shirt won’t stay raised above his chest so I can get to the wounds. “Hope you weren’t attached to this—not like it wasn’t ruined before anyway,” I comment, as I cut the shirt up the middle.

His torso is crisscrossed with scars, old and new, when the fabric splits open. “You must be a busy boy,” I mutter, finally grabbing a washcloth and dipping it into the cooling bucket of water.

The water is rusty red when I’m finished. I plop myself on my rear and wipe my brow with the back of my hand, taking in the form before me. Each cleansing stroke of the cloth revealed hard planes of muscle and tawny skin that looks like it sees lots of sun—and possibly even more battles. I glance down at my arms, which are pale in comparison. I rarely venture out in the day, choosing to sleep the daylight hours away. Plus, the evenings are much more suited to my appetites anyway.

Standing, I grab some pillows off the head of my bed after wiping my hands on my pajamas. I toss them on the floor next to the man and brace his body to the side, so he slumps to the floor, flat on his back. I check his wounds, happy to see only a tiny trickle of blood seeping from the bottom slash—the deepest.

Lifting his head, I place the pillow under him and stand back, gazing down. I wish there were more I could do to get him comfortable, but I’m not strong enough to lift him onto the bed. Strength isn’t one of my many gifts—neither is healing, which would have been useful tonight.

After a short break which I use to change into clean jammies, I watch his chest move up and down in a steady pattern. Eventually, I gather all the wet towels and cloths to place in the trash. There’s no way I’m bothering to wash them. The blanket was a favorite, but I can buy another.

When I return to the room from downstairs, he’s stretched his arm out toward the door, and his head is turned in the same direction, as if he’s waiting for me. I dismiss those thoughts and lean in close, placing my palm over his chest to feel his heat and the thump of his heart against my hand. “I think you’re going to be okay, big fella. I don’t know how you ended up way out here, but you’re lucky you found me.”

He lets out a string of low words that I can’t understand, then he’s out cold again.

I should probably sleep in another room—hell, I should probably take myself downstairs—but I move over to one of my chairs. Dawn is coming soon, and this night has left me exhausted. I’m not really worried about him hurting me anyway, since he’s in no shape to hurt anyone. Plus, I’m certainly not without…defenses.

Chapter 2

I swat at whatever is tickling my cheek. “Knock it off, Theius.” I turn my face to the side, burying my cheek against the chair. My eyes bolt open. I had assumed it would be my furry little friend Theius, but then memories of last night hit me like a lightning strike, filling my veins.

I look over to the floor where the man should be, but he’s not there. “Hello?” I call out, but my voice is coated with sleep, making it come out as a lazy drawl.

I squint at the windows. The drapes are still drawn, letting the late afternoon sunlight filter in. I never intended to sleep here last night—just meant to rest before closing up the house for the day and finding a more suitable bed to sleep in. I can’t believe the glaring ball in the sky didn’t keep me awake.

Sitting up, I wait for an answer. Don’t tell me he was able