Badass Omega [MxM] - A Reimagining of Carmen

Chapter 6 - Feel the Burn

"Cut it off."

"Wh-What?"

Charlie spoke without lifting his head. "Sharp debridement. You and I both know what's dead is dead. It's got to go. So just take a scalpel and - "

Morgan sat still, frozen. Justin studied his face, leaning forward. It looked as if he was about to go over to him, but then Charlie turned around in his seat. 

He cradled the other wolf's hand in both of his slim ones, catching his eyes with those irresistible hazel ones, and speaking softly with his expressive voice. 

"It'll be okay, Morgan. I know you can do this." He smiled sweetly, a smile that made Dan's breath catch in his throat. 

"I trust you." 

Dan's nephew blushed beet red. Letting go of his hand, Charlie turned around again. He did not put the cloth back into his mouth. 

Morgan mounted a sterilised scalpel blade on a handle, taking a deep breath. Dan noticed Justin frowning and nudged him with his elbow.

"Go over there, man. He needs you."

As Justin took the chair next to Morgan's, the young vet student was just touching his blade to the red, swollen edge of one of the claw marks. Justin squeezed his shoulder and looked over at Charlie.

"So how long had you been up there, Charlie? In the Rockies?" he asked.

The tip of the blade sunk in, almost like cutting through butter. Dan could see dark red blood welling up. He heard Charlie stifle a gasp. 

"'Bout seven months."

"As a wolf?"

"Yeah, mostly. I mean, at the dark of the moon I would turn human."

"Didn't you miss anything?" Morgan asked softly.

"Sure I did."

"Like what?" Darren called over.

"Sex, booze, and cigarettes. What else is there?" he retorted.

Darren snorted and Charlie's head lolled back, his eyes becoming unfocused for a moment. He was being way too honest...

"Well... there's family," Morgan murmured.

"No family."

"Everyone has someone," Ronan said. "What about your parents?"

"No parents."

"What about friends?"

"More trouble than they're worth. Ah, fuck!"

"And your pack?"

"Never - gah! - had a pack. Never wanted one."

"Why?" Ronan asked, looking away from the TV.

"I don't like taking orders."

"What happened to your folks? Who were they?"

"What is this, an interrogation? Well, it's your lucky day...I seem to have become absolutely incapable of keeping my mouth shut...damn fever..." he muttered. 

"Suppose I can only hope you don't start asking the right questions, huh? Jesus! No, shit, sorry Morgan. Keep going, don't mind me... My mom was a mix of Irish and Slavic immigrants. I think my dad was Creole but I never met him."

"He walked out? Was he a werewolf?"

"Could'a been. Look, my mom was so high that night she couldn't remember how many guys she slept with, let alone which ones. Her dad split when she was a kid though, so for all I know he could have been the wolf. Aah..."