Everything Carries Me to You (Axton and Leander Book 3) (34 page)

"Fucking spare me!" Dana yelled. "Fucking idealistic
bullshit
can choke on my fucking cock."

"As opposed to your non-fucking cock?" Axton asked.

Dana had reached a crescendo of mad that wasn't even effective anymore, and he picked up a rock to hurl at Axton for the wisecrack. Axton stepped an inch to the side and finished shimmying into his jeans. He was covered in patches of blood, all his own, so he was going to have to do some laundry tomorrow; Axton hated walking around in his own bloodstains. He suspected every predator did.

"Fucking ideas that human put into your head," Dana growled. "That asshole has it easy--their ways ain't our ways and you
know
it, Axton."

"It's really not that different," Axton said. "We'll get there in a few decades."

"I hope he's dead by then," Dana spat.

"This isn't really about him," Axton said, "it's about me."

"You've never been this stupid on your own," Dana said.

"I'm in the right, Dana," Axton said, in a low voice. "If I know nothing else about this world, I know that. I'm not wrong to be what I am. And I'm tired of killing myself slowly to make
other people
feel comfortable."

"You call this
comfortable?!
" Dana shouted, flinging an arm towards the rotting house.

"It's more comfortable than living a lie, so--yeah," Axton said quietly. "By comparison? Yeah."

Dana stalked back over to Axton and walked right up to him, looming, hissing down into his face.

"
Fuck
your comparisons," he said. "
Fuck
your idealism."

Axton looked up and didn't flinch.

"It's too late," he said evenly. "I can't take it back. There's nothing you can do."

Dana cocked his hip back, generating power from the quick rotation, and slammed his fist into Axton's face. It was a harder blow than the last few and Axton went sprawling, blood gushing from his nose.

"You horrible mother fucking idiotic son of a fucking bitch," Dana said in one long rushed breath. "I--fucking--how could you?"

Axton saw his blood dripping into the dirt, and was suddenly grateful for how he couldn't smell anything with a broken nose stuffed with blood. Dana was about to cry. Missing the scent of tears was such a relief.

"We coulda had a real sweet life, you and me!" Dana shouted down at Axton's prone body. His big chest was heaving with huge and uneven breaths; barely contained sobs contorted his body. "We coulda lived together, hunted together! Gotten some fucking respect in this goddamn world! We coulda had it
all
, Axton!"

"Yeah," Axton mumbled, into the dirt. "Kind of."

"But NO!" Dana screamed. "You don't want that! You don't want ME. You'd rather
suffer
." He turned away from Axton, buried his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry," Axton said, rolling over onto his side. "I know that was your dream."

"Do you hate me that much?" Dana asked, and there was no question, now, that tears were streaming down his face. Axton knew it without having to see. "Is it so bad that doing
this
was better?"

"I don't hate you, Dana," Axton said quietly. "I probably
should
. But at the end of the day, I don't." Axton planted one hand on the ground and pushed up, staggering to his feet.

Dana swept towards him immediately, and the moonlight illuminated the tracks of tears down his cheeks.

"How could you do this, Axton?" he asked, even closer than he had been before. "How could you do this to us?"

"I did it for me," Axton said. "It's not about you. I know we could have had a good life together, eventually."

"You know I have to hit you again," Dana said in a wretched voice, as if he were pleading with Axton for something. "I have to go back with your blood on my knuckles. I have to make them believe that I hate you now."

"I know," Axton said.

"I don't want to do this," Dana said, begging for something--not something anyone could give, but something. "Baby, I don't want to do this."

He was tragic and weeping under the light of the moon, standing tall even with his slumped posture, his big hands on Axton's shoulders now, trembling and tender. Dana was very beautiful, still, and Axton didn't even find his willingness to admit that strange. Dana was beautiful and often terrible. Life was beautiful and often terrible. You just had to do the right thing anyway, and neither the beauty nor the terror mattered.

"I know," Axton said, and it was true.

"How could you make me do this?" Dana asked, voice breaking. "How?"

Axton sighed.

"I couldn't do it the other way," he said. "I couldn't let you--I wasn't going to out you. I wasn't going to do that, to you or to anyone."

"You protected me," Dana said.

"Yes," Axton said, closing his eyes, "I did."

"You protected me when you have every reason not to," Dana said.

"Yes," Axton said, "and you're going to hit me again anyway."

Dana stood as close as a lover, and he stepped even closer, put an arm around Axton's waist, and another around his head, holding him close, burying his face in Axton's hair.

"I am," Dana said.

"It's okay," Axton said.

"Oh, sugar," Dana muttered, deep in his throat. "Today you taught me so much."

"Yeah?" Axton said, clearing his throat. He kept his eyes closed. He felt dizzy. He allowed himself to lean into Dana, just a little, just this once. "Like about personal integrity or the struggle for equality, maybe?"

"No," Dana whispered. "No, darling. Today you settled an old question for me once and for all." He shoved his nose into the top of Axton's head, breathing deep and then letting a kiss get lost in Axton's hair.

"Yeah?" Axton said, dazed, as Dana took a step back.

"Yeah," Dana said, tilting his head to one side and then the other, cracking his neck and then his knuckles.

"Oh," Axton said.

"Today's the day I know for sure," Dana said, "that I'm a bad man."

Axton saw it coming; knew it was coming. It didn't make it easier. He didn't move out of the way, though he couldn't suppress a tiny, instinctual flinch at the last second--

A second later Axton was sprawled in the dirt again, and this time Dana solidified their position and straddled Axton, but only to rain down more blows from above. He was breathing wildly from the exertion; he wasn't pulling any punches. Dana hadn't stopped crying, either.

"How could you," Dana panted, "make me," Axton's head slammed back into the ground, "do this?"

That was the mantra that repeated with the rain of strikes, over and over, faster and faster, interrupted only by half suppressed sobs--
how could you make me do this, how could you make me do this, how could you make me do this to you?

Axton had been counting on his werewolf toughness to make it through the night--what was violence when healing took a few days at most; none of this would last; none of this damage was permanent; this was merely pain--but he hadn't considered how long he would stay conscious for his planned beating. Somehow he was hanging on. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He felt like he was spinning even though he couldn't possibly be anywhere but the ground.

The dull sounds of the impact of a fist on flesh reached his ears as if he were somewhere, someone else. The ragged wet sounds that came from Dana were harder to distance himself from, somehow.

Dana stopped when he was tired.

His stomach rolled with the force of his jagged breaths, and Dana leaned back on his knees, letting his head fall back. Sweat dripped from his skin, and it seemed like his breaths would tear him apart. Slowly, he pushed off and away from Axton.

"Your hatred," Dana panted, "I could live with." He threw himself back so that he could lean against a tree trunk, long legs sprawled out in front of him artlessly.

Axton tried to stir. Everything hurt so much. He stopped.

"But your mercy," Dana said, "I can't. I can't ever touch you again."

Axton managed to spit out some blood. Teeth came with it again, but at least he could breathe through his mouth now.

"You protected me from the thing I fear most in the world," Dana went on.

I know
, Axton thought, but he didn't try to speak. He tried to wriggle his fingers to make sure they worked.

"I think I might hate you for that," Dana breathed.

Axton was very sure one of his cheekbones was broken. Maybe both? It was so hard to tell, specifically.

Dana closed his eyes and sagged against the tree, letting the sweat cool on his skin, trying to get his breath to return to normal.

"I have to get back," he said. "I stormed out while Dru gathered everyone in the big house to go over the rules. They'll be done soon."

Axton coughed and then wished he hadn't. Pain lanced through his ribs.

"If you run away now," Dana said, low and hypnotic, "they'll probably make me come after you, with company. Before it just would have been me. Before it was personal. Now every damn fool is going to be watching you. We probably can't even run away together without being followed. Congrats."

With tremendous effort that nearly knocked him out, Axton pushed up to a seated position.

"We done here?" he croaked.

Dana stood up, turning his face to look at the sky, backlit by the moon.

"Yeah," he said, sounding far away. "Yeah, Axton. We're done."

Axton stayed up until Dana's footsteps faded away, and then he collapsed back down on the ground, grateful for the darkness that overcame him.

Like all hurt animals, Axton had gone to ground. When he woke up again, he was in his wolf shape, in a small hole dug deep into the earth. He had no actual memory of doing this, but sure, maybe the denning instinct kicked in. Why not.

God, he was hungry. The primary thing he felt was pain, but nipping at the heels of pain was hunger.

Damn.

Axton suspected he couldn't even catch a rabbit right now.

Oh, well.

He closed his eyes and did his best to sleep.

Oh, god
, Axton thought later, fuzzily,
I'm dreaming. I'm so hungry I'm dreaming. I smell freshly bleeding moose.

He passed out again.

It was nighttime when Axton awoke to an impatient howl. He could feel the night deep in his bones, under even the throbbing pain, and the smell of dead moose was no longer fresh.

He was clearly meant to go outside, but that meant moving, and moving meant regret.

A series of howls now, sharp and short.

Fine
, Axton thought,
Fine. I'm coming
.

He turned around in his den with difficulty, feeling how his bones had knit together just barely, and poorly. Damn. It was going to take a couple of shifts back and forth to clear that up.

The den and the tunnel to it were of pretty shoddy construction; given that Axton hadn't been fully conscious for the digging, he was actually kind of impressed that it had held up at all. He emerged from his hole blinking soft dirt out of his eyes.

When he was out, Axton had to blink again. The partially eaten moose carcass was next to Helen, and Helen looked exasperated. Axton felt his salivary glands go into overdrive--he was trying to look at Helen, trying to figure out what to do and what she was doing here, but his eyes dragged his gaze back to the moose. Fuck, he was drooling.

Helen nodded.

Axton hesitated a second longer. Would it be polite to let her have the first--

Helen howled at him again and Axton dove at the carcass.

Later on, they both lazed on the grass, bones between their paws, breaking them to slurp up the marrow and then chewing on them for sheer pleasure. Axton still hurt all over but had faded to a background roar, and he could stiffly stretch a little.

Eventually Helen stood up, shaking her fur out. She looked at Axton.

Axton looked at her.

Helen looked off into the woods, then back at Axton.

Axton glanced away, back in the direction where the other wolves lived, with their houses and their rules and their strict hierarchy. Dana and his self-hatred. Fridge Guy and his fridge. The twins, who had unexpectedly sided with him but backed down. Still, though.

Helen kept on looking at him.

Fuck it
, Axton thought, getting up.

As soon as Helen bounded off into the woods, Axton followed.

"Whoa! Down! I'm not going to hurt him!"

It was impossible to take a real nap anymore. Axton yawned and stood up.

"It wasn't me!"

Axton trotted over a hill to see Helen with bared teeth, crotched low and ready to jump. Jack was holding his hands up in the air and backing up. He had a first aid kit and a black eye.

Mm, right.

Axton trotted over to Helen and yawned, a common calming signal with wolves and dogs, to show that Jack wasn't a threat. This was apparently insufficient reassurance, and Helen stood her ground. Axton flopped to the ground and yawned again, stretching languidly. Helen made an annoyed, chuffing sound and sat back on her haunches. Axton nuzzled her gratefully and then rolled over, shook himself fully awake, and let his skin ripple into his human shape.

"I should have figured," Jack said, "and brought you pants."

"Dru?" Axton asked, pointing at his own cheekbone, but nodding at Jack.

"Dana," Jack said drily. "When I confronted him about the state of you. Though Dru came close to helping, mind."

"That bad, huh?" Axton said. "It hasn't healed up yet?"

"Nah," Jack said. "I've been keeping it fresh on purpose. To be passive aggressive about it."

"You can do that?" Axton asked, impressed.

"Sure," Jack said, pointing at his earring, "always could. You got your speed. Dana has his half shape. I can do this. Frankie's got a way to keep his tattoos, though he needs touch ups on the regular. We all have our little quirks."

"Huh," Axton said thoughtfully, drawing his knees up. "I always wondered if we had different--breeds, or strains, or something."