grabbed a quick bite to eat before making my way back upstairs to his room.
It wasn’t a pretty sight. After Ryan had found him in the hallway passed out he had woken him, but Frankie had only stayed awake long enough to puke all down himself before passing out again, and, of course, no one had thought to get him cleaned up before tossing him onto his bed.
Holding my breath so I wouldn’t be sick myself at the stench, I made my way through the room to the bathroom. Turning on the shower, I went back into the hallway to grab the empty laundry basket and returned to the room to strip him of his sick covered clothes. Removing his shoes and socks was easy, the jeans were a little harder because Frankie had a thing for tight fitting jeans, but it was his top that was going to be the hardest. It was covered. Completely and utterly covered with sick. Deciding that I would rather deal with him pissed at me for destroying his favourite pulling t-shirt than having to try removing it properly, I allowed my wolf to rise to the surface a little and let my claws out, then as quick and carefully as I could, I slashed at his shirt, shredding it to pieces. He didn’t even stir. Now that he was free of his sick cover attire, left in just his boxers, I hoisted him over my shoulder and marched into the bathroom, steam rising for the showerhead over the tub and dumped him in it.
Snapping awake as the water hit him, he began thrashing about, yelling. “Shit… Fuck….” Spotting me leaning back against the sink, a smirk on my face, he tried his best to climb out but only succeeded in sliding further into the tub, his legs kicking wildly in the air. “What the fuck man? I’m going to kill you,” he snarled.
“You were covered in puke.”
“So what, you thought you would drown me? Come on, dude. So not cool.”
“No, what’s not cool is being dragged up at the crack of dawn and yelled at because Ryan found you passed out cold in the hallway.”
A look of confusion passed over his face before his eyes widened, the night before rushing back to him. “Shit, sorry man. But hey, you’re still alive, so no worries, right?”
“Dream on, mate, this is my father we are talking about.” Finally taking pity on him as he continued to struggle to get out of the bath, I helped him up, grasping his hand and helping him to his feet. “We’ve got to help Isaac sort out the mess in the vault. Apparently a couple of the guys complained about getting lost and not being able to find anything down there yesterday, so now my father wants it organized… and we have just been signed up to help.”
“Fucking hell,” he groaned, stumbling to the toilet to take a piss. “Any idea who else is helping us? And please don’t say Chelsea. That girl seems to follow you everywhere. She collared me last night asking questions like the raging bitch she is.”
“No, she will not be there. But I can’t promise she’ll not try to volunteer once she hears that I'm going to be down there. But apart from me and you, so far the only other person being forced into slavery is Zak.”
“Ha! Serves him right for stealing my woman,” he shouted, punching his fist in the air as he completely missed his aim for the toilet. Leaving him to it, I went back into the bedroom and stripped his bed, bundling the sheets into the hamper and placing it back outside and sending a quick text to Jane.
I don’t care what anyone says, that stuff was being collected and washed, today.
The rest of the day was no better. Zak finally turned up around midday and was met at the door by Ryan, who ordered him straight upstairs to wash off as he put it, ‘the smell of human slut.’ Chelsea had gone off with some of the females for the day but I still couldn’t escape her, my phone seemed to be constantly beeping with texts and then voicemails every time she called and I ignored it. At one point I was tempted to reply to one of her texts and just tell her it was over, but that
It wasn’t a pretty sight. After Ryan had found him in the hallway passed out he had woken him, but Frankie had only stayed awake long enough to puke all down himself before passing out again, and, of course, no one had thought to get him cleaned up before tossing him onto his bed.
Holding my breath so I wouldn’t be sick myself at the stench, I made my way through the room to the bathroom. Turning on the shower, I went back into the hallway to grab the empty laundry basket and returned to the room to strip him of his sick covered clothes. Removing his shoes and socks was easy, the jeans were a little harder because Frankie had a thing for tight fitting jeans, but it was his top that was going to be the hardest. It was covered. Completely and utterly covered with sick. Deciding that I would rather deal with him pissed at me for destroying his favourite pulling t-shirt than having to try removing it properly, I allowed my wolf to rise to the surface a little and let my claws out, then as quick and carefully as I could, I slashed at his shirt, shredding it to pieces. He didn’t even stir. Now that he was free of his sick cover attire, left in just his boxers, I hoisted him over my shoulder and marched into the bathroom, steam rising for the showerhead over the tub and dumped him in it.
Snapping awake as the water hit him, he began thrashing about, yelling. “Shit… Fuck….” Spotting me leaning back against the sink, a smirk on my face, he tried his best to climb out but only succeeded in sliding further into the tub, his legs kicking wildly in the air. “What the fuck man? I’m going to kill you,” he snarled.
“You were covered in puke.”
“So what, you thought you would drown me? Come on, dude. So not cool.”
“No, what’s not cool is being dragged up at the crack of dawn and yelled at because Ryan found you passed out cold in the hallway.”
A look of confusion passed over his face before his eyes widened, the night before rushing back to him. “Shit, sorry man. But hey, you’re still alive, so no worries, right?”
“Dream on, mate, this is my father we are talking about.” Finally taking pity on him as he continued to struggle to get out of the bath, I helped him up, grasping his hand and helping him to his feet. “We’ve got to help Isaac sort out the mess in the vault. Apparently a couple of the guys complained about getting lost and not being able to find anything down there yesterday, so now my father wants it organized… and we have just been signed up to help.”
“Fucking hell,” he groaned, stumbling to the toilet to take a piss. “Any idea who else is helping us? And please don’t say Chelsea. That girl seems to follow you everywhere. She collared me last night asking questions like the raging bitch she is.”
“No, she will not be there. But I can’t promise she’ll not try to volunteer once she hears that I'm going to be down there. But apart from me and you, so far the only other person being forced into slavery is Zak.”
“Ha! Serves him right for stealing my woman,” he shouted, punching his fist in the air as he completely missed his aim for the toilet. Leaving him to it, I went back into the bedroom and stripped his bed, bundling the sheets into the hamper and placing it back outside and sending a quick text to Jane.
I don’t care what anyone says, that stuff was being collected and washed, today.
The rest of the day was no better. Zak finally turned up around midday and was met at the door by Ryan, who ordered him straight upstairs to wash off as he put it, ‘the smell of human slut.’ Chelsea had gone off with some of the females for the day but I still couldn’t escape her, my phone seemed to be constantly beeping with texts and then voicemails every time she called and I ignored it. At one point I was tempted to reply to one of her texts and just tell her it was over, but that