No Longer Fair To You Chapter 09
I figured I could just ride out the rest of our trial marriage, but Clayton went into his rut early.
Once a month, werebeasts went through a three-day rut that left them irritable, restless, and completely dependent on human comfort to settle down.
I hesitated outside his bedroom door before finally pushing it open.
We weren’t officially divorced yet, which meant taking care of him was still my responsibility.
Werebeasts heal ridiculously fast, and the wounds from his fight the night before had already mostly closed up.
Clayton stood there with his arms crossed. Since the rut was just starting, he was still fully lucid.
He offered me a tight, forced smile.
“Well, how did you find the time for me today? Shouldn’t you be hanging out with your favorite person, Anderson?”
I pressed my lips together. “I’m here to help you get through your rut. You don’t need to be so hostile. If you don’t want my help, I can leave right now.”
Clayton went quiet.
I took a seat on the far side of the room, keeping my distance.
“Come here,” he said.
Before I could even move, he closed the gap between us.
A pair of white animal ears popped up through his hair, and his tail curled slowly around my lower leg as he pulled me into his arms.
He was desperate for contact, rooting his face heavily into the crook of my neck.
After a long moment, he spoke, his voice raspy. “You’re so unfair, Eleanor.
“I’m your husband, too, but you only ever buy gifts for Anderson. You only hold his hand, and after that fight, you only treated his injuries.”
As the rut tightened its grip on him, his thoughts started to blur.
He whispered the last part right into my ear. “I was hurting last night, too, but you didn’t even bother to come check on me.”
Honestly, Clayton was far less irritating in his snow leopard form than he was as a human.
Maybe my recent distance had provoked him, because he was much more anxious and clingy than usual, constantly rubbing up against me.
He absolutely refused to let me leave, hooking his heavy paws around my waist in total reliance.
If I so much as looked away, he’d let out pitiful whimpers, begging for my attention.
He didn’t act like a feline at all.
Instead, he was intensely possessive and incredibly needy.
We stayed glued to each other the entire time.
Even when I ate or took a bath, Clayton kept his tail coiled firmly around my wrist, refusing to let go.
Since he seemed much more approachable in his animal form, I tried bringing up the divorce to give him time to prepare.
But the second I mentioned it, he got extremely agitated, acting like the topic was completely forbidden.
His fierce eyes went wide and perfectly round.
He started to whimper, heavy tears spilling over as he pressed his head hard against my chest.
Defeated, all I could do was soothe him, rubbing his ears and kissing his head.
On the third night, I woke up groggy in Clayton’s arms.
His firm, strong arm was locked so tightly around my waist that it was slightly hard to breathe.
He had shifted back into his human form; the rut was over.
Yet he still had his face buried in the crook of my neck, kissing my skin over and over with intense focus.
“Clayton,” I called out. “Let go of me.”
The arm around my waist went completely rigid before he slowly released me.
I slipped out of bed, drank some water, and sank into a chair before speaking again. “Clayton, I have something I need to tell you.”
“Oh.”
Clayton leaned in closer. Instead of just standing there, he sank to his knees and settled on the floor at my feet.
“Don’t think helping me through my rut makes up for you ignoring me lately,” he said, slipping effortlessly back into his usual arrogant, aloof persona.
He wouldn’t look at me, focusing entirely on fiddling with his cuffs. “But I’m feeling generous these days, so I’ll let it slide.”
He crumpled the fabric of his sleeves so badly they’d never lie flat again.
Finally giving up on the cuffs, he met my eyes. He pressed his lips into a tight line and asked, his voice dropping, “Is this about the gift? Are you willing to give it to me again?”
I couldn’t quite get a read on him.
We’d spent an entire year together – the quiet, day-to-day routine of just living side by side, mixed with the intense, desperate dependence of his rut.
I really thought I’d be able to break the news to him calmly, but my chest was tight with an anxiety I hadn’t expected.
I hesitated, knowing I just had to get it over with. “It’s not about the gift. Wednesday is the end of our trial marriage.”
I said, forcing myself to look away, “We need to head to the Mating Center and sign the divorce papers.”
