I got him into the bathtub with much cursing and energy.
Jase resolutely refused to use soap, wrinkling his nose with disgust at its chemical fruit smell. I gave up and just helped him to wash the blood from his skin. The dark bruise on Jase’s shoulder caught my attention. I grinned and brushed my fingers over it, feeling proud. My eyes met Jase’s, and we smiled at each other.
When we were done with washing, I wrapped Jase up in a big bath towel. The werewolf purred happily, reminding me more of a puppy than of an adult giant he was.
“Wait here,” I said and went into the bedroom to bring Jase his sweatpants and a clean t-shirt.
Jase pulled on the sweatpants without any complaints, but he gave the t-shirt a mistrustful glare. He sniffed and wrinkled his nose again. He looked at my sweat
