Failine - 7. Chapter 7

Avoiding the bloody trail, I walked over to the door, opened it, and entered the store room. It was dimly lit by an emergency led light and filled with cardboard boxes labeled ‘summer party deco’ or ‘plastic dishes.’ A small window showed the starry sky. And there he sat, bound to the wooden beam in the center of the room with ropes as thick as my fingers. Around his neck, they had slung the silver chain that would have been his initiation gift, so he couldn’t shift out of the shackles. He was still naked and had drawn up his knees. Beneath him, a red puddle was forming, the blood dripping from a wound that ran across his left thigh.

He looked up at me, straight into my eyes. “Thank you. I mean, I’ve heard what you said, and I just wanted to… thank you for all you have done.”

Seeing him like this, hearing his words, paralyzed me. All the rage and contempt I felt for my parents and the pack flowed from me and were replaced by misery and compassion. “What have I done for you yet?” I opened the med kit attached to the wall and grabbed some bandages and antiseptic. “Let me take care of your injury.” This would at least partially justify his gratitude. I knelt down beside him.

“What you have done? Speaking up on my behalf. Fighting like a lion.”

I looked into his face. His mischievous grin hadn’t changed in three years, and he didn’t use this simile by mistake. I was supposed to make him feel better, not the other way round. “Fighting for the lion, you mean.” I put some of the antiseptic on a piece of bandage.

His grin widened. “You see? Argh!” His body tensed up, squinting his eyes and hissing through his closed mouth, as I began cleaning the wound.

“Sorry.”

He shook his head. “Go on,” he pressed through his teeth.

As the cleaning continued, Dillon relaxed, and only an occasional groan told me that the antiseptic did its work.

“Why are you doing this?”

“To avoid an infection.”

“You know what I mean.”

Of course, I did, but saying it would give it a finality I couldn’t face now. Still, he deserved some truth. “Mom and Dad raised me with an absolute belief in wrong and right. Obviously, their understanding of these terms is opposite of mine because what they are doing to you is fucking wrong.” And if it wasn’t, this was a world I didn’t want to live in.

He nodded, but kept silent, and I went on with the treatment.

“Open your legs, please. I can’t reach all of the wound.”

“I think you treated all of it.” His voice trembled, and he smelled of anxiety.

I grabbed his knees and pulled them apart. “Don’t be silly. You haven’t got anything that I…” Dillon sported a full hard on. Now, that his dick was exposed, I knew what the source of this musky aroma of his was. I closed my eyes and inhaled it before I could think about it. I opened my eyes again, and yes: he was much better built than I was. The smell and the sight went right down into my crotch. Dillon pressed his knees together and turned his head away from me.

I had to say something, make the awkwardness go away. “In our age, if you don’t get hard every half-hour or so, something is wrong. That’s a good sign, I think.” That was one outrageous heap of bullshit I was talking.

Dillon turned back. “No, it’s a sign that a gay boy like me likes someone and his touches.” He looked into my face. “Don’t be shocked. I’ll be dead by tomorrow, so there is no need for me to be shy or for you to be worried.”

I wanted to tell him that he wouldn’t die this night, but we both knew this to be wishful thinking. Even more, I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t shock he saw on my face, but why tell if I could show? He was right when he said that there was no need to hold back. I took his head into my hands and placed my mouth over his. It was my first kiss, and I had taken Dillon by surprise, so for some long seconds, we only pressed our lips together. Dillon opened his mouth a little, and I just mimicked what he did. His tongue probed me. In theory, this had sounded gross, but in reality, I lacked words to describe the sensuality and intimacy thereof. I let my tongue slip into him. For the second time this night, my perception of duration got lost in sensory chaos, so when we let go of each other, I had no idea of how long we had kissed.

We looked at each other.

“This is a sign that the other boy likes the gay boy too, I presume,” Dillon said, cracking the mischievous grin again.

All the words that came up in my mind could only ruin it, so I pressed my cheek to his and slung my arms around him, knowing that my body would tell him so much more accurately how I felt about him. He became limp in my arms as all tension fell of him. For a moment, the masks that disconnected us from the world were gone.

“I don’t want to die,” Dillon whispered.

He wouldn’t. The plan took form in my head without actually thinking about it. It popped up as a whole, complete with all details. With it came a frightening determination. I wouldn’t let anyone or anything stop us regardless of the means necessary.

I broke our embrace. “You’ve got a driving license?” A rhetorical question, just for fact checking.

“Yes.” Confusion wrinkled his face.

“You’ve still got the money from the pack?”

He looked at the corner of the room. “It’s in my pants.” He and the confusion faced me again.

“Can you hear whether my mom is in the cabin?” He was a cat shifter and should have more accurate hearing than anyone else here.

“Yes, she’s discussing with the others. Why are you…”

I put my finger on his lips. “I’ll untie you and will ask my mom for the car keys.” I’d lie about fetching a jacket or so, and I’d ask Jamie to accompany me. “When I leave the cabin, jump out of the window and run for the parking lot. I’ve got an idea where we can go.” Sooner or later, they’d notice our escape, and we would have to change our ride. It was too easy to track my parents’ car. But first things first. I had no idea how much money was in the envelope. It just had to be enough to take us to Aunt Monica.

Dillon shook his head. “I can’t ask of you to do this.”

“You don’t have to ask.” I just looked into his eyes and let my tenacity do the rest.

“You’re serious about this.” His statement was as rhetorical as my previous questions.

“Of course. I’ll finish bandaging your wound and then…”

Dillon jerked his head to the door. He turned to me, then to the door again. “Get away from me.” He faced me. ”Get away from me, please.” Once more, the unnameable emotion filled his eyes, adding a gleam to their light blueness. He smiled. ”It’s too late, they’re coming.”

The door crashed open, and my father followed by Mr. Zelger, Craig, and two other pack members entered. The grip of a gun peeped out from under my dad’s belt.

Dillon’s jolt with his shoulder hit me off-guard, and I fell over to the side. My shoulder took most of the impact, and it didn’t hurt at all.

“At least, the crown prince stops groping me now,” Dillon said and spat before my face.

Why did it always come down to Dillon protecting me in the end?

“Don’t listen to him, Elias. Do you see now that you cannot trust a Failine?” Dad extended his hand.

I got up without his help.

“It’d be better if you didn’t accompany us,” he said, dropping his hand.

The four other men pushed Dillon through the door.

Before I had the chance to answer, my father turned away from me, following his henchmen.