Marked (Primal Obsessions #2) - Cara Wylde Page 0,8

and one could clearly see my bruised face, so I guessed that was why the lady had been so kind to me back there. I fit the battered woman poster to a T. I removed all my clothes, bra and panties too, and stepped into the shower. The hot water helped with the soreness of my muscles and the aches from holding on to the boy with one arm and a half. I tried to flex my left arm – it was worse than before. I winced in pain and allowed myself five minutes of crying, but not more. I had to keep it together. I imagined myself a soldier on a battlefield. I could be brave and resourceful. I had to. For myself and for the young life I now had in my care. I dried myself and wrapped the biggest towel around me.

I filled a cup with water and grabbed the face cloth. The boy needed some cleaning, too. When I emerged back from the bathroom, his big blue eyes were scanning the room. He looked about to cry, but then he saw me and made a noise that sounded like a sniffle. I walked to the bed, the mattress giving way under my weight, and tickled his tummy.

“What’s your name, little guy?” I asked him, as if he could somehow answer me. “You’re such a good boy, do you know that? I think I should name you. Huh? What do you say?”

I carefully removed his stained and smelly clothes, dipped the corner of the cloth in the lukewarm water, and began wiping the boy’s bloodied skin, only to discover that he wasn’t hurt at all. He was even giggling at me, the sound of it doing something to my soul. Innocence. Sweet innocence and purity. A thing I hadn’t seen or experienced in so long. But the more I scrubbed, the more blood was coloring the cup of water, marring a little of this feeling of purity. What sort of child was he? Was he truly a human… ish? Bear cub?

“What the…” I rubbed frantically, trying to cover more skin, pulling on his little legs and arms. I couldn’t believe my eyes! Every tiny scratch or cut that I found was closing, or was already closed, looking more like a fading scratch.

Despite his mother’s car having turned into a pretzel, and the speed of the collision causing her extensive wounds and killing her, the boy was relatively unharmed. I picked him up in my arms and used the bathroom sink as a basin for him and cleaned his tiny bottom. I didn’t have any diapers, so I used a pillowcase as a makeshift one. More things to add on the to-buy list.

I held the naked pillow to my chest and let myself fall to the floor, thinking back on the she-bear. She had been human one moment, dying, then she had tried to make a run for it, or lunge at me, and then she’d died for good. I felt a little bit of sadness at the thought of this baby boy growing up without his mom and at the heartache the she-bear must’ve felt in those last few moments, knowing that she was dying and she was leaving the cub all alone.

“Wow, look at me, cubs and she-bears… I already speak like some highly paid actress in a movie,” I whistled to myself.

Movie, indeed.

All this was straight out of some sci-fi flick.

I looked back to the little boy. He couldn’t be more than one year old, two at the most. He was rolling around in bed, left and right, never nearing the edges. Smart kid. His blue eyes were sparkling with intelligence and happiness. He had no idea what had happened, I could tell for sure now, and a part of me, the stupid one, wished he never would.

“Momma bear, if you can somehow sense me, sense my light, sense the good that’s in me, please know I will take care of your son. I’ll protect him with all my human might. I may not be a tough woman like you, but I will draw from the depths of my being and make sure you can rest in peace, knowing the boy will have a good life,” I whispered and looked up at the ceiling, imagining a brown bear looking down at me with kind black eyes.

I was playing peek-a-boo with him when it occurred to me that I didn’t know what a child his age