The Defiant Claim - The Claim: Book 2 [LGBTQ+]
Chapter 15 - Mik (Part 1)

The moment Sam returned, relief flooded over Mik. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he needed Sam. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was worried when Sam didn’t return. He barely slept all night, unable to get comfortable and the only thing that helped was to lay one of Sam’s shirts over the pillow he slept on. That male’s scent had grown on him—and he was damned if he’d admit that truth too.

Even though that male stank with anxiety when he stepped foot into the cabin, Mik gritted his teeth to bear it.

He watched Sam prepare breakfast for them—wrinkling his nose as Sam scraped the bottom of the frying pan and a burnt stench wafted up.

“Shoot!” Sam’s voice was hushed as he hurried to get the burning eggs off the gas. He was distracted, trying to also fry bacon in another pan with sausages in another. Clearly, he’d never cooked for himself—not even something as simple as eggs.

“How do you burn eggs?” Mik mumbled as Sam scraped the eggs onto the plates on the counter before hurrying back to the stove.

Heat rushed up Sam’s neck. “I-I don’t know...”

Without a table, or coffee table even, Mik sat on the couch, looking over his shoulder as Sam worked. If it wasn’t for his bum leg, they could sit on the floor...

He waited until Sam was all done and brought him his plate. His stomach snarled and Mik bit back the urge to complain about his hunger. He had to be nicer to Sam and no one liked a complainer—not even himself.

“Sorry, it’s a little well done...” Sam mumbled as he sat on the floor across from Mik.

“It’s fine.” Mik ate the semi-charred breakfast, too hungry to even care that it tasted like charcoal.

He remembered the first few days he and his father lived in the wilderness between territories. How he had tried to cook and burned everything to a crisp as well. He smirked to himself. He had tried so hard and cried the first few times before he started to learn his lesson. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Findɴovel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“What’s so funny?” Sam’s question was hesitant, cautious, but curious.

“Just remembering my first attempts at cooking. I burned everything too. I was nine then, so... better to burn the food than myself or to try and eat something undercooked.”

Sam nodded, cautiously nibbling on the eggs on his plate and scrunching his nose up. He heaved a sigh and slumped his shoulders as he set his plate aside.

“You going to eat that?” Mik asked, pointing his fork at the abandoned food.

“No,” Sam grumbled. “It’s gross. I never do anything right.”

He brushed off Sam’s negativity. “Nah, you just need more practice. Bring it here. I’ll eat it. Can’t let anything go to waste.”

His father always beat him if he never finished the meal he provided. Everything had to be used. Even the bones that were too big to crunch down were reboiled until all the flavor was gone.

Sam handed over the plate and watched Mik shovel the food down with his nose still scrunched up. ”Goddess, you’re like a garbage disposal.”

“Can’t help it. I’m lucky to eat today. Tomorrow, I might not.”

“You’re not a rogue anymore,” Sam reminded him. “I won’t let you starve.”

Mik shook his head, still crunching away at the charred bacon. You left last night without dinner. I’m bound to fuck up again and miss another meal.

“Have you ever cooked for yourself or anyone else before?” Mik asked between bites.

“No...” More heat crawled up Sam’s neck and ears. “When I left home, Luna cooked for me until they put me and Cam together to work through our issues. Cam cooked for me then. I was pretty messed up...”

The mention of his best friend, the male who was also stronger than him, rubbed Mik the wrong way. He knew it shouldn’t—Cameron had a mate, like Sam said. It was the matebond playing the jealousy card on him.

Besides, Sam deserved a nicer mate than him.

“Once I’m all healed up, then I’ll show you what I know about cooking. Probably won’t be much better since I’m used to roasting meat and vegetables over a campfire, but hey,” he shrugged, “it’s something.”

“You’d cook for me?” Sam asked, the heat in his neck rising up to his cheeks.

Mik tried to ignore and smother the fluttering butterfly in his stomach with another shrug as he avoided meeting Sam’s gaze and turned his attention back on his burnt meal. “Sure, why not?”

“I’d like that,” Sam whispered. “Would you prefer I bring home some meat and set up a campfire later and then you can teach me all you know?”

“Sure, sounds good.”

“Okay.”

The hope in Sam’s voice made Mik’s stomach clench and his appetite vanish.

What was he doing?

Dr. Waaban came to check on his arm, and indeed, Mik had pulled a muscle in his shoulder that he tried to straighten out. While he was taking a shit, he overheard them talking about Sam’s upcoming training and some whispers about Sam’s medication. Mik didn’t know what that was about but he didn’t ask.

Dr. Waaban left and Sam showed him a couple of books that he was asked to study for the next few weeks. He left them on the bed when he left to hunt, bringing back a pair of rabbits an hour later.

He helped Mik get outside and onto an uncomfortable folding chair. Mik explained how to arrange the logs in the fire and how to set up the roasting spit with the rabbits on top. Sam had no trouble skinning the furry critters and Mik noticed scars on Sam’s arms that he’d never noticed before. But every time Sam caught him staring, he’d pull his arm away or change his stance so Mik couldn’t examine them further.

Days passed and Sam and Mik fell into a routine.

Sam let Mik sleep on the bed and he slept on the couch, rising early in the morning to start reading from the books the doctor provided and making notes. Mik woke to the scratching of Sam’s pen on paper and mumbling under his breath as he made notes and tried to drill concepts into his head.

Sam even had the textbook open on the counter when he tried to make breakfast—pancakes or eggs—burning everything he attempted to cook as he poured over his studies.

Mik couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at Sam’s motivation and dedication—even if it meant burning food. The pup was reinventing himself and Mik watched this other side of him curiously. He relished in the scent that filled the cabin as Sam’s anxiety vanished. There was a richness in Sam’s musk when he poured over his studies, a sort of determination that grew stronger as the days wore on and what he was studying was starting to come together in a bigger picture.

In the evening, when Sam was too tired to cram more information into his head, he’d share some of the more fascinating details he’d learned over the course of the day.

It was during their discussion that first evening together in the cabin that Mik somehow blurted out that he didn’t know how to read. Or rather, that he hadn’t looked at words in a book or sign since he was a small pup. He knew the alphabet and could recognize a few simple small words, but to read an actual book was something he hadn’t done since he was small. Even then, he sucked at reading. His father would make him read aloud and growl when he struggled to say a word or said it wrong. He’d eventually lose patience and smack him across the face before storming out of the room, leaving Mik to cry on the floor.

Sam had gone out and brought back a few picture books for pups and encouraged Mik to try reading them while he studied. While that gave Mik something to do, it bored him. The stories were too juvenile and dull to entice him to read more.

Even his mathematic skills were as basic as addition and subtraction. He could multiply and divide small numbers by twos but that was all he could recall as that was all he ever needed to live out in the wild.

An offhand murmur to himself made Mik realize that Sam was right.

If Mik wanted to become an alpha someday, how could he maintain his position and lead a pack to be successful when he could barely read at a first-grade level and only grasped basic mathematics that he could do on both hands? If he wanted to lead a pack and be successful and prosperous, he needed more than strength and might, loyalty and allegiance. He’d never gain any loyal following if he didn’t grasp the other fundamentals needed to lead.

As Sam flourished in his studies, Mik attempted to follow his lead with children’s exercise books, reminding himself that circumstances set him back in other areas of life that he needed. Now was as good a time as any to build on those severely weakened muscles.

As the days turned to weeks, Mik’s casts came off and he upgraded to non-fiction books for kids on various topics related to nature, technology, the sciences, and social behavior along with math exercises increasing in difficulty.

Sam also brought home a set of dumbbell weights. His arm and leg that had been in casts for about two weeks were weakened and needed gentle, consistent exercise to increase their strength and get them back into the shape they had been before.

They started eating better once Mik’s casts were off. He helped Sam prepare meals, and while he was as guilty as Sam at first when it came to burning everything, he got better. Soon they moved their meals from the campfire to the stovetop and trying different recipes and spices that they could add for flavoring.

Mik even offered to cook all the meals on Thursdays so Sam could cram for his exams every Friday morning at the infirmary. Mik didn’t mind; the smell of food distracted him from the stink of Sam’s increasing anxiety. He also liked having control of the food preparation and handed Sam a bone to chew on. It was better than letting him chew on the end of a pen—after ink spilled all over the couch before his first exam.

Sam, in turn, looked up at him with so much gratitude and appreciation, and never failed to voice it every time Mik brought him something to eat and drink. Mik didn’t know how to take it—or the flip-flopping of his stomach—so he grumbled “You’re welcome” and left it at that, returning to his own studies or muscle strengthening exercises.

He encouraged Sam to take breaks as well, setting a schedule for each one to make sure Sam didn’t miss them. They went for walks or quick sprints to get the blood flowing, after Sam expressed concern for “burn out.” Sometimes, Sam just closed his eyes, leaned his head back on the couch, and asked Mik to read something from the children’s books, patiently listening to him and correcting him when needed.

Through it all, he still kept Sam at a distance, refusing to let his eyes linger and roam as they pleased. He avoided touching Sam, even in passing dishes, pens, books, or bones to chew on. Emotionally, Mik restrained himself, biting back his frustrations when they arose and scolding himself whenever he caught his eyes, thoughts, or feelings lingering too long on Sam.

They rarely spoke unless it pertained to food, upkeep of the cabin, or their studies and Mik liked it that way. The fewer questions Sam asked about his personal life, the better.

Progress was progress, and Mik would rather focus on the present and look forward to the future—his ultimate goal always at the forefront of his mind.

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