Read His Imperfect Mate 26 for Free Online

tossed out on his ass because he was laughing at his mate.
    “What the fuck happened?” Sloane asked as he stepped back.
    “You put the bag on for too long,” D replied as he soaked up the blood with the towels. “I forgot to tell you to open the bag and pour the blood into a cup. It’s much easier that way.”
    Sloane didn’t look impressed. He looked pissed. D averted his eyes as he cleaned up the mess.
    “You could have told me this upstairs before I blew the damn thing up.” Sloane yanked paper towels from the roll and began to wipe down the cupboards under the counter.
    “I can get that,” D said as he tossed the drenched towels into the trash can and reached for more. He felt as though he were walking on eggshells around the man. One false move, one screwup, and he was going to be alone for all eternity. It made D nervous and jumpy. The tension in the room was thick between them as Sloane grabbed some cleaning spray.
    D made warm soapy water and then began to clean out the mess inside the microwave. The smell was nauseating as he scrubbed the dried blood from inside the machine. He almost gagged as he squeezed the sponge out in the bowl and began to wipe again.
    He looked over his shoulder when he noticed that Sloane had been standing there staring down at the floor. D looked down, but the blood was cleaned up. What was Sloane staring at? Or more importantly, what was his mate thinking?
    D felt his muscles coil, waiting for Sloane to say he couldn’t do this. That it was too much for him to handle. D held his breath as he waited for the wolf to say something, anything. He turned to clean the bowl in the sink when Sloane grabbed his upper arm. D glanced over his shoulder, seeing that Sloane was staring right at him. D was unable to move, unable to breathe, still not believing that he was here, right here in Sloane’s home. But the small bit of elation deflated as Sloane kept staring at him with such raw hurt in his eyes. D swallowed hard as he waited to be told to leave. He could feel it coming.
    “I don’t like being clueless about caring for you,” Sloane finally said, his eyes never leaving D’s. It looked as though it took a lot out of his mate to confess that. “I need you to tell me everything when I ask. Don’t forget the details.”
    D nodded quickly as he pulled his arm free and cleaned the bowl out in the sink. He stared at the running water as it glided over his hands. “I should have told you. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
    This was it. Sloane was going to tell him to get his things and go back to the Lakelands. D bit his bottom lip, feeling as if he would cry as Sloane left the kitchen. Why did he always have to fuck up? Why couldn’t he do anything right? D felt like the world’s biggest loser as he dried the bowl and set it on the counter, wondering what Sloane was doing upstairs.
    His eyes rounded when Sloane came back into the kitchen with another bag of blood, ripping it open and pouring the crimson content into a glass. Setting it in the microwave, Sloane punched in the time and then looked over at D.
    D nodded, and then Sloane hit the start button. “You only have two more bags upstairs,” he said as he stared at the cup going around in a circle inside the microwave. “I’ll have to send for more.”
    It hurt D’s heart that Sloane wouldn’t even consider letting D drink from him. They were mates after all. He hated drinking that crap from a bag. The source was so much better, but D wasn’t going to rock the boat. Sloane had let him stay, and he wasn’t going to press his luck. He curled his lips in to stop himself from saying those thoughts out loud.
    When the microwave dinged, Sloane grabbed the cup and carefully handed it to D. He felt a bit awkward all of a sudden drinking his blood in front of his mate. He’d never had that problem before, but for some reason, not drinking from Sloane’s vein felt wrong.
    D crossed over to the table and sat the cup