The Defiant Claim - The Claim: Book 2 [LGBTQ+]
Chapter 7 - Mik (Part 2)

Mik woke sometime in the morning, a blanket covering his stiff and sore body. He was still strapped down to the bed and Sam was lying on his stomach, preoccupied with his phone. He wasn’t aware that Mik had awakened yet and guilt struck him as he looked on his mate in his innocence.

“Morning,” he grumbled right before his stomach growled.

Sam chuckled as he shifted on the bed and sat on the edge of it. “Hungry?”

“Apparently.” His stomach growled again and he grumbled with it. “Can’t wait until I can move again. Fucking body hurts.”

Sam’s face fell. “I’m sorry. Maybe I can get Alpha to release you... if you promise not to lunge at anyone again.”

Heaving a sigh, Mik closed his eyes. A headache pounded deep in the core of his brain. He needed to shift. He’d never been in his human form for such a stretch since his first shift. “Before you run off, can I have a drink?”

“Sure.” Sam hopped off his bed and brought the cup to Mik’s face.

Familiar tingles danced along Mik’s lips as he parted them to allow the straw entry to his mouth.

Dammit. Why did his mate have to be male?

After drinking his fill, Sam left to fetch him some breakfast like a good little mate. Ugh.

A different nurse came in to check his vitals before Sam returned and Mik couldn’t help but notice she was young and fit. Her ass looked like she did squats for hours every day. If he’d seen this she-wolf trotting along borders, he would have pounced on her. She would have given into his wolf within an hour or two and he’d spend a couple of weeks humping her senseless.

He licked his lips as she threaded the blood pressure cuff through the straps and around his arm. “Hey, I got a bone to pick with ya.”

She straightened up and pressed a button on the monitor to inflate the cuff. “What’s that?”

“Remove the blanket. It’s getting hot in here. And these straps are too tight. Mind loosening them?”

Her eyes raked over his body and his grin broadened at the appraisal before a crooked grin of her own crossed her face. “Sorry. Alpha’s got those straps and chains locked up tight. You’re not going anywhere.”

The thought of her climbing on top while he was chained was a kink he hadn’t tried before. All she had to do was remove the blanket on him and pull up the hospital gown and she’d have full access to do whatever she pleased. He couldn’t move. She could fuck him however she pleased and he’d be at her mercy.

Sex was an act of dominance. It was the only time he’d allow anyone to dominate him—and that was after he’d dominated her first so she knew her place. She could do whatever she pleased, but he ultimately had full control.

This female though... He couldn’t dominate her first. But he could dominate her later. Hell, the mere invitation was an act of power and control. He was still calling the shots. She could either accept the invitation or turn him down.

He could tell that she liked what she saw—especially with his cock rising up under the blanket. Fuck, it would be hot if she’d throw her legs over him and buck her hips like the wild thing he could tell she was.

“That doesn’t mean we couldn’t still have a little fun.” His voice rumbled with a hint of a growl that spoke more than words could. An alpha male communicating a basic primal need to an available female.

The slightest hint of sweetness graced his nose when the door opened, causing the nurse to jump and turn her flushed face to the monitor displaying his blood pressure.

“They had pancakes!” Sam exclaimed, beaming widely and carrying two plates loaded up with the fluffy fried batter smothered in sugary maple syrup and drowning out all other scents in the room. His smile fell when he saw the nurse removing the blood pressure cuff from Mik’s arm.

“Everything looks good. I’ll give the doctor my report,” she said, keeping her head down as she wheeled the machine out of the room.

Sam glanced at the monitor’s screen as she hurried past him. “But... the blood pressure is high?”

Mik growled. His sexual liaison ruined. “I’m hot-headed, remember?”

He could already feel the blood retreating at the sight of Sam. Sam didn’t even notice the tent Mik had pitched, but it didn’t matter now. Flapjacks would be the norm until Mik could get away.

Setting the plates of pancakes down on the table, Sam cocked his head to the side. “What did you do this time?”

Mik narrowed his eyes. “I don’t appreciate being poked and prodded.” That’s my job.

Sam heaved a sigh. “It’s her job to make sure everything is going well with your recovery. Don’t give her a hard time. Please? She’ll only report back to Alpha and then he won’t release you.”

Dammit! Even now, this pup was still only thinking about what was best for Mik.

Fists clenched at his side as his stomach tightened into a ball. He growled and looked away. “Fine.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to be nice, you know,” Sam said, raising the head of Mik’s bed into a sitting position.

Mik’s throat rumbled in annoyance. He could be nice... when it benefited him. Niceness was for the weak. Niceness involved submission. Mik submitted to no one if there was nothing to gain from it.

But Sam was right. Mik wouldn’t be released if he wasn’t nice. Freedom was the gain from being nice. So, nice he had to be.

He changed the subject. “Those smell good.”

Sam brightened as he turned his attention to one of the two plates and began to cut the pancakes into the small pieces. “Right?”

“I haven’t had pancakes in years.” The confession slipped out with the memory of his six-year-old self happily digging into a pile of pancakes, syrup running down his chin only to face his father’s wrath for getting the collar of his shirt coated in stickiness.

“Really?” Sam asked, his eyes growing wide as he brought a piece to Mik’s mouth, a napkin held underneath to catch any rogue drips of syrup.

The moment the sweet morsel entered his mouth, a lump formed at the back of his throat as his eyes stung.

Claws dug into his arms. A slew of words spewed from bared teeth as his father ripped his dirty shirt from his body and shook it in his face. A kick to the stomach had him falling back and vomiting, earning more kicks for creating an even bigger mess. His shirt was flung at him and ordered to clean it up before the door slammed behind him.

“Mik?”

“Too sweet,” Mik grunted as he blinked back the sting and forced a swallow.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sam mumbled, hanging his head. “I didn’t know how much syrup to put on it... If you don’t like it, I can go back to the kitchen and get some more with less syrup?”

“Do it.”

The command was brash and Sam flinched, but took the plate and left with his tail tucked and shoulders slumped.

Mik gagged. His fists clenched as he struggled against the confines of the bed, thrashing against the chains and straps. Trapped. Chained. Caged. He roared. Black eyes seared into his mind. Flashes of teeth. Claws around his neck. His arms. His legs.

It was just a bit of syrup.

Just a bit of sweetness.

But it all turned bitter.