could lay their hands on. The water clung to Dellan, and Horvan knew it was going to take a shitload of towels to dry him, but that was preferable to Dellan spraying the bathroom.
“I think we’re done,” Rael announced from Dellan’s head as he poured a jug full of water over him, rinsing away any last remnants of soap. He looked into their mate’s eyes. Is that enough?
Enough.
Roadkill stood in the bathroom doorway, his arms full of folded towels. “I think we might need to buy more, guys, if this is gonna be a regular thing.”
“It’s not,” Rael assured him. “Not now that we’ve gotten rid of… them.”
“Is that what Dellan’s nightmare was about? Crank told me.”
“No, that was something else entirely.” Horvan took the towels from Roadkill and spread them over the floor. “Okay, Dellan, out you get.”
Dellan stepped carefully out of the rub and onto the towels, and Rael immediately began rubbing him vigorously. As soon as a towel was saturated, he swapped it for another.
“Can I ask you a question?” Roadkill crouched low, watching the proceedings.
“Sure.” Not that Horvan could stop him. Once Roadkill got something in his head, there were only two choices—help him work through it or deal with the fallout.
“Dellan’s nightmare got me wondering. How much of you is in there when you shift? I mean, obviously there’s some of you in there, or Dellan would’ve killed us all, right?”
Now there was a question….
Horvan thought about how best to answer. “The animal is mostly in control. Our thoughts aren’t ordered and logical, most of the time.” Although he had communicated fine with Rael the first occasion they’d both shifted in his apartment. “We act on instinct, but it’s… tempered somewhat. Like, when I’m in the forest and I’m hungry, I have to find something to eat. My bear wants fish, so I lumber on down to the river and snatch me some dinner. Now, in this form,” he said, gesturing to his body, “I wouldn’t eat it without deep frying it first in some batter and spices and then washing it down with a six-pack of beer, but all the bear wants is a full stomach. He doesn’t care about anything beyond that.”
“Our needs are simple,” Rael added. “It’s why when we’re stressed, we head off to the woods to shift and decompress for a while.”
Roadkill cocked his head to one side. “Okay… but you said it’s tempered.”
Horvan nodded. “A lion might see someone walking their poodle and have no qualms about snagging little Fifi off her leash, but the human part keeps that in check.”
Rael was nodding too. “We know not to draw attention to ourselves, and do what we need to in order to keep our secret.”
Roadkill glanced at Dellan, who was lying on the towels, licking his paws. “And when you mind-talk, or whatever you call it, with Dellan, how does he communicate? It’s obviously not all that complex.”
“With Dellan, no,” Horvan affirmed. “See, we know we run the risk of losing ourselves if we don’t shift back to human, and Dellan hasn’t been human for a long time. His vocabulary is a little limited, like he’s forgotten how to talk. And as for that nightmare, it wasn’t so much the words he used to convey his fear, it was more his emotions that we sensed.” Right then, all he was sensing from Dellan was profound relief. You smell of you again, don’t you?
Horvan’s throat tightened when Dellan rolled lazily onto his back, presenting his slightly damp belly. Horvan grabbed a towel and gently dried his fur, conscious of Dellan’s submission. My baby.
Dellan’s gaze met his, but this time the tiger made no response.
“And whatever Dellan saw, whatever it is that dream means, it scared him.” Rael jerked his head to stare at Horvan. “Maybe it scared him enough that staying a tiger is preferable to facing it again.”
Like Horvan hadn’t already considered that possibility too.
Hashtag appeared at the door. “I’ve called the doc. He says he’s ready to come here as soon as we need him.” He looked at Dellan and smiled. “Hey, a clean kitty.”
“Where’s the doc now?” Horvan demanded, rubbing behind Dellan’s ears and loving the low, rumbling purr that resulted.
“Casper, Wyoming. I’ve booked him on an early flight tomorrow. He should get into Missoula about 1:00 p.m.” Hashtag smiled. “He wouldn’t hear of Roadkill driving eight or more hours to pick him up, even though I said Roadkill would have no problem with that.”
Roadkill sighed. “Like eight