The Defiant Claim - The Claim: Book 2 [LGBTQ+]

Sam had a right to be distrustful of Mik, but it still rubbed Mik the wrong way. How long would it take for him to see that Mik was trying? To trust him again?

He knew he couldn’t expect changes to take place overnight for either of them but Mik missed Sam’s hopefulness, his happy and easy-going personality. When Sam was down, he wanted to be left alone. When he was angry, he silently stewed and made snippy remarks. The rare moments Mik got a glimpse of the old Sam, he got nervous—afraid that he would fuck up and ruin Sam’s mood and all the progress they had made.

He fought Mik the first few times when Mik tried to move his arms and legs like he had done while Sam slept—demanding that he not touch him. At first, it was like a punch in the chest, reminding Mik of his own words thrown in Sam’s face months ago.

“I have to do this,” Mik told him. “You won’t get strong if I don’t—and you know it.”

“I don’t like you touching me,” Sam grumbled, but could do nothing to stop Mik from moving his limbs.

“You don’t have to like me,” Mik said, “but I’m taking care of you now, and I’m not going to let you waste away.”

Mik tried to repeat these little exercises every hour, but Sam snarled at him to leave him alone. Biting back his hurt and rising anger, Mik ignored him and continued the slow movements as his father laughed and jeered in his head.

After a few days, Sam’s anger subsided and he complained more about feeling tired and wanting to be left alone.

Mik repeatedly told him, “You need this,” even when Sam cried and begged him to stop. Mik bit back his frustration and urge to yell at him, to remind him again and again that he needed to keep moving. There were times he felt like crying and other times screaming over Sam’s pathetic pleas and raging demands.

Sam’s moods fluctuated. Sometimes he was so lethargic, he begged Mik not to pick him up from the bed and leave him alone. Sometimes, Mik gave him that break, especially if he was busy doing something else like cooking food, cleaning the cabin, or washing a few dishes. Sometimes, he gave Sam a break simply because looking at him made his heart ache.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Sam’s behavior was torturing him. How much longer before he saw that male smile again? For him to laugh again?

As the days turned into a week, Sam was still fighting with him and refusing to try and get stronger and become more independent. While Mik understood that Sam needed to work out his thoughts and feelings, he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer it would take for him to take initiative and try again. To live again. How much longer would it take for him to want to live his life?

‘You did that to him,’ his father sneered in his ear.

The ghost of his father loved to rub it in, and whenever he did, Mik reacted. Sometimes as little as gritting his teeth or snarling, but other times he’d throw things—pillows, small objects, utensils—and a few times he’d smash his fist on the kitchen counter and once he stabbed the wooden cutting board with the knife he’d been using to chop vegetables. Sam probably thought he was insane, though he never made a peep when Mik lost control.

Laughter filled his head then and faded away after Mik had calmed down, breathing in and out slowly with his back to Sam.

When he got Sam out of the bed, he spent hours staring out the window. His silence unnerved Mik when he wasn’t working around the cabin, so he would offer to read to Sam. Sometimes Sam agreed and the times he didn’t was when he was silently raging and didn’t want to hear Mik’s voice.

At those times, Mik didn’t know what to do with himself. He didn’t want to read ahead in their book. He enjoyed the experience of seeing how the story unfolded with Sam. He found he needed another hobby during those times. Since he didn’t know what to do with himself, he would stretch, do push-ups and sit-ups, planks, squats—anything he could do in the open space in the kitchen. He longed to go out for a long run or play in the snow, but regaining Sam’s trust was more important. He only went out to hunt, making sure he was back as quickly as he could.

With the passage of time, the tension between them didn’t improve. Mik even attempted to pray to the Moon Goddess—as awkward as that was since his father had never taught him, but he was at a loss. He wanted the old Sam back, even though he knew that would never happen. Sam was a changed wolf now and Mik had done that to him. He didn’t know what kind of a wolf Sam would become once he worked through his hurt and rage but Mik knew he had to keep trying to be supportive so Sam could come out stronger in the end—and hopefully forgive him.

But he was losing patience—a quality he always lacked. He didn’t know how to channel his feelings and emotions. Sam’s anger and depression frustrated him while it also made him feel helpless. He didn’t know what else to do except to stay the course and hope for the best.

Dr. Waaban paid them a visit after their first week together in the cabin. “How are things?” he asked while inspecting Sam after removing his neck brace.

“Frustrating,” Mik mumbled.

“Annoying,” Sam countered.

Mik pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved a sigh. He had a headache since he woke up—a rare occurrence but usually happened before a big storm struck. “I’m trying my best.”

“And he won’t leave me alone.”

“Fuck! I’m just trying to help you!” Mik spat, throwing him a glare.

“Did it ever occur to you that I just want to be left alone?”

Sam’s venom burned in Mik’s veins.

“And you know how important physical therapy is, so stop fighting me!”

“Guys, guys,” Dr. Waaban intervened, his hands raised to signal them to settle down. “Enough. Sam, you know better. I’m sure Mik is tired of constantly attending to your every need to ensure your recovery. He’s been doing it for weeks. How much easier would it be for him to sit back and let your body continue to deteriorate? You know how important movement is.”

“I don’t want him touching me!” Sam snapped. “He cheated on me! He was just using me to—”

A growl cut him off as Mik struggled to suppress his anger. Pinching the bridge of his nose again, he clenched his teeth and breathed through them to avoid inhaling the pungent stink of Sam’s rage. “I’m sorry,” he gritted out. “How many fucking times do I have to apologize before you’ll let it go?”

“How can I let it go when every time I close my eyes, I see you with her?”

“And how many fucking times do you think I see you jumping when I close my eyes, huh?” Mik could feel the vein in his temple throbbing as he fired back.

That shut Sam up.

“Do you have a headache, Mik?” the doctor asked.

“What was your first clue, doc?” Mik sniped before deflating and inclining his head to the older male. He took a deep breath before muttering, “I’m sorry. Yes, I have a headache. I get them right before big storms.”

“Ah, yes. A terrible, but very useful survival trait to force you to hunker down and wait out a storm. No apologies needed, though I do appreciate it. I understand you’re in pain and sympathize. Would you like something for it? I have medicine you can take that will help to dull it a little until the snowstorm passes.”

Mik nodded before closing his eyes and pressing his hand to his forehead. “Yes, please.”

While Dr. Waaban turned to dig in his medical bag, Sam’s mouth fell open and he snapped it shut.

“Hold up a second. Did you just submit and have a civil exchange?”

“Yes,” Mik mumbled.

“A lot happened while you were sleeping, Sam,” Dr. Waaban answered, still digging through his bag.

Sam’s eyes narrowed at Mik, his mind trying to comprehend this new revelation. “Why? What happened?”

“Besides saving your life and thereby mine…” Mik murmured, “Dr. Waaban was the only one to show me kindness and treat me with respect… besides you…” Mik looked away, shame burning within him. “I owe him.” Like I owe you.

His father gagged in his head.

Dr. Waaban scowled as he found what he was looking for and pulled it out of his bag. “You owe me nothing—although I do agree that you owe me respect, not only as your pack doctor and elder but on a mutual level. Respect given is respect earned. Besides, we’ve already established this.” The doctor opened the bottle and shook a pill out. “You saved Sam. All of my training and efforts weren’t enough.”

The older male turned away to draw Mik a glass of water while Mik shook his head. “Laying there next to him doesn’t count.”

“Oh, but it does. And when you recovered, you took good care of him. This whole experience has softened you.”

Heat flourished on the back of Mik’s neck and he rubbed it as he looked at the floor. “I didn’t soften… just came to my senses.”

A cup of water was held out to him with a pill in the other hand. After taking both and gulping the pill down, Dr. Waaban put his hand on Mik’s shoulder. “There are different kinds of strengths. You’re not less of a male when you show tenderness, express your emotions, share your thoughts, and take care of others. There is nothing soft or weak in those actions. It is very difficult to take care of others and takes strength and courage to share your deepest thoughts and feelings. That is the very foundation of intimacy: opening yourself up to another and allowing yourself to be vulnerable.”

‘Pussy,’ Mik’s father interjected with a yawn before Mik shoved him to the back of his mind.

“Thank you, Dr. Waaban,” Mik said, inclining his neck again.

“You’re welcome.” The doctor turned to Sam. “How about you, Sam? You’re due for your weekly injection.”

Sam looked away. “I guess.”

“Weekly?” Mik looked back and forth between the two males. When had Sam needed weekly injections? “For what?”

The color drained from Sam’s face as the doctor looked between the two of them. Looking up at the older male, Sam’s eyes frowned in a silent plea as he mashed his lips together.

Dr. Waaban gave him a little nod of his head before he turned back to his medical bag. “What I said earlier applies to you too, Sam.” He pulled out a small vial and a needle. “But only when you’re ready. Keep in mind that he’s not the same male you remember.”