Back at the house, I force Caleb to sit on a chair so that I can clean and bandage each of the wounds he dirtied by being in that river. He’s surprisingly pliant, considering his usual aversion to being told what to do. But after the earth-shattering s*x we’ve had, it seems nothing will break the air of smug satisfaction he’s taken on.
The alcohol wipes I use to clean the wounds out must hurt him. They sting even on the shallowest of cuts, and he has bullet holes. Yet he doesn’t seem to care. He just keeps smirking as he looks at me, gently scenting the air.
Even though I bathed in the river before we left it, he can probably smell himself on me still, with those Alpha senses. I try to ignore that look of ownership in his eyes. Maybe I press in a little too hard on one of the ones just t
