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Fault

The Xeus glowered at him, his harsh breathing the only sound in the room. But he did stop thrashing. Could he understand him after all?

Jules cocked his head to the side. “Can you understand me?”

The Xeus just kept looking at him with the same unnervingly intense, not-quite-rational look. His muscles were very tense despite him being still. He wasn’t relaxed by any means. He looked like an animal ready to attack at any moment. A cornered, wounded animal.

Wounded animals were dangerous and unpredictable; that much Jules knew.

Jules looked around until he found a bottle of blood stancher. Clicking his tongue in disgust—why wouldn’t his uncle’s people use it on the Xeus when they had it right there?—Jules grabbed it and headed back to the alpha. He hesitated, meeting the hostile gaze. He was soft-heartened, not suicidal.

“I don’t mean you any harm,” he said, keeping his voice as non-threatening as possible. “Will you let me treat your wounds? That gash on your arm looks nasty.”

The Xeus
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