Chapter 4

-Percy-

“So, what can I do to help?” I ask after a moment. My mate blinks a few times before cocking his head to the side just like a dumb little dog. 

“What do you mean?”

I gesture to him before looking up at the sky, watching the snowflakes meander on down. “Either to not let you get too angry, or to help calm you down. What do you find helpful?”

He smiles a little before shrugging. “Well, normally I just sit on my own in silence for a bit to calm down, if I’m already really angry. When I’m like that, I can’t be around anyone. But before I get to that point…Keye often just talks to me to calm me down, and I just phase out or whatever.”

I slide my eyes over to his at the mention of the name and the fond way in which he talks about this person. 

“Do you have feelings for Keye?” I can’t stop myself from asking. I don’t want my mate to be stuck with me if he likes someone else. He quickly shakes his head, grabbing my hand and looking into my eyes desperately.

“No! I promise I don’t. She’s my best friend and beta, but she is also uh…the person I was…”

I sigh, removing my hand from his. “You sleep with her?”

“Not anymore! I’ll never do that again, I promise.”

I don’t look at him, just rolling my eyes. “It’s not my business what you do. Do whatever you want with whoever you want.” Standing up abruptly, I know I should talk this through with him, because it does upset me that he had sex after we mated. 

But whilst my mate is explosive with his frustration, I’m the opposite. I just bottle it all up inside and never let it see the light of day.

He groans behind me and I try not to do the same; my leg always hurts more in the cold because the metal is practically freezing against my skin. But I start walking nonetheless, and I don’t stop even when he calls my name. 

“Percy! What’s wrong with your leg,” he calls my name again, grabbing my arm and pulling me to a stop. I stare at him blankly, pretending that it wasn’t royally fucked by the man who killed my whole family and that actually, everything is fine.

“Nothing. I’m cold, let’s go.”

Oh, I pissed him off. I can see it on his face, the way he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before reopening them a moment later. “I’m trying to be as honest as possible with you, so it would be great if you could do the same for me.”

I cross my arms, turning to look at him properly. “Are you? Because so far, I don’t even know your name.”

He blinks before running a hand through his hair. “It’s Emmanuel. But people call me Emmi for short.”

I nod, reaching my hand out. “Perseus. But you already know that I go by Percy.”

Emmanuel blinks, looking rather confused. “But how come I heard the name Percy rather than Perseus in the name dream?” He asks, taking my hand and holding it. I meant to shake his hand but I guess he wasn’t thinking of doing the same thing.

“Because that’s technically what I was named at birth. My dad wanted to call me Perseus, but my mum said that a baby couldn’t be named after a god of destruction. So they reached a compromise, and named me Percy. But it is actually short for Perseus.”

Emmanuel nods, tapping his chin. “Oh, that makes sense. Perseus really didn’t suit you when we first met; you were pretty weedy. Why did you decide to get all buff?”

I frown, starting walking again before my leg actually freezes off. I decide to leave my hand in his just until we get back to the pack house because I could use the warmth. 

“I didn’t decide to get ‘buff’. And I wasn’t weak before, I just didn’t need to fight like I have to now.”

Emmanuel glances up at me, but doesn’t ask any follow up questions. Until he does. “Did your leg get injured in a fight or something?”

I stop walking again, deciding to try and be honest with him. This relationship is supposed to go both ways, after all. Taking his hand, I press it to my right leg, about halfway up my thigh. 

“Hit here.”

He looks at me quizzically, but doesn’t argue. He hits my leg - not particularly hard, which is a good thing because otherwise he might’ve hurt his hand. 

“Ah fuck, why is your leg rock solid?!” He whinges, pulling his hand back and nursing it. I guess he still hit it hard enough to hurt then. I just shake my head, taking his hand back in mine and continuing walking.

“Not rock; metal. My right leg is a prosthetic, and yes, I lost it in a fight. It had to be amputated.”

My mate stares at me aghast for a moment before letting out a whistling sound through his teeth. “Holy shit. You definitely didn’t have that last time.”

I hum slightly in acknowledgement; my thigh which remains as actual flesh is getting increasingly more painful: this is my first winter with the prosthetic. My leg was…honestly, mutilated, around two years ago. And then I was kicked out of a fucking rogue pack after they amputated it, and then it took me quite a while to sort out a prosthetic.

And it’s not incredible; if I had any decent amount of money I could get a better one made but as it is, I have to deal with this one which is painful and hard to walk with sometimes if it seizes up.

Once we make it back to the pack house, I let go of Emmanuel’s hand and let him lead me through the building to his room, where I hole myself up in the bathroom in an effort to sort out my leg. I turn on the hot water, dousing a towel in it which I then wrap around my leg. 

A short knock on the door sounds around 10 minutes later and I let out a grunt of acknowledgement, positioning myself more securely on the edge of the bath so that I don’t topple into it or off it.

Emmanuel steps into the bathroom, opening his mouth to say something before his eyes land on my leg. I move the towel more over my thigh so that he can’t see the mess that remains, and luckily he’s too busy looking at my prosthetic to notice anything else.

Namely the fact that I’m also just not wearing any trousers.