by Godiva Glenn
Ross looked almost identical to her foggy memories of him from childhood. She could still see where Mikos inherited his strong square jaw and aquiline nose. She’d yet to see Thea but Kyra would guess that she was equally unaged.
Taking the mug and sipping the steaming liquid, she pulled herself from staring. Whatever the drink was, it was bitter with lemons. But if it was going to help her, she’d swallow every drop.
Ross cleared his throat as he finally pulled a small book from the drawer.
“I’ve seen worse damage. You don’t heal like a wolf, but you don’t suffer like a human, either.”
She shrugged. “I’ll manage.”
His blue eyes studied her, though he didn’t look angry or mean. His expression wasn’t readable, but she could sense that whatever he felt or thought, there was no ill-will towards her. After a moment he made a soft hmmm then handed her the book and left.
The Call of the Wild. She could have laughed, but amusement fell away, and tears came. If only. It was a book she’d read before, more than once. She leaned against the table, sipping her bitter medicine and questioning the small novel.
With each swallow she felt better, until breathing was easy and the throbbing pain had become a subtle nuisance. She set the empty mug aside and turned her attention to the book. Thumbing through the pages, she noted that some were dog-eared, and a few passages were highlighted. Her fingers traced a section as her eyes studied the black print against the faded yellow background.
And as never before, he was ready to obey. John Thornton was dead. The last tie was broken. Man and the claims of man no longer bound him.
She snapped the book shut and sighed. Pushing aside a table topped with empty boxes, she struggled to open the only window in the room. She shoved it up, retrieved the book, and carefully climbed out into the dusky forest, wincing at the sharp pain radiating from her abdomen. The drink wasn’t magic after all, but she was already outside now.
Sucking in a deep breath, she willed away the ache and took in the comfort of nature. The spice of fall was nearly gone. The breeze held a distinct undertone of rebirth. Snow would find them eventually, but for now, there was no more than a chill. Lucky my blood still runs hot, cursed or not.
She wandered forward, eyes studying the unfamiliar forest and mind tucking away the placement of each tree and bush, so she could find her way back.
“If you’re heading home, that’s not the direction,” Mikos called from behind her.
Rolling her eyes, she replied, “I’m not running away. I’m searching for someplace quiet with fresh air.”
Leaves crunched behind her and he caught up. “You shouldn’t be walking.”
“I’m not going far.”
“This is far enough. You’re going to tear your stitches. How are you even standing?”
“I’m stubborn,” she wheezed.
“No kidding...”
“I learned it from you,” she muttered, shutting him up.
They walked in silence while she followed a familiar breeze. She found the stream and sat on its edge, doing her best to mask the grimace on her face as her healing wound screamed in agony.
“How did you know this was here?”
“I could smell it. Clean, cool. Running water is one of my favorite scents.”
She pulled the book from under her arm and opened it. Mikos sat beside her, warmth radiating from him like a furnace. He leaned back and stared up at the sky, and she was swept with déjà vu. How many times had they done this in the past? But now everything was different. She opened the book and dove into the world she’d explored many times before.
“You find a stream with your nose. You read under the faintest moonlight. You heal from being nearly gutted,” he said, confusion riding his words. “You should have lost that arm.”
She didn’t look up from the book. What could she say? She was something else. “Maybe all cursed ones are like this. Strengths and abilities trapped between two worlds.” Maybe we should be given a fair chance, she wanted to add. He placed a hand over the pages, and their eyes met.
“I’m sorry for my grandmother’s words.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not,” he insisted.
“But there’s nothing to be done. I’ll probably be fine to leave in a day or two.”
“You know you’re not that well healed. I’m surprised you aren’t bleeding and crying right now.”
Ignoring him, she removed his hand from where it blocked the chapter she read. The urge to nuzzle his knuckles drew heat to her face. She could pretend to be indifferent, but her body knew him. Wanted him. She licked her lips and cleared her throat, needing to say something to free the moment of tension, but nothing came.
The days had blended together, but she believed that for nearly a week she’d been trapped in that room. Days that bled together except for the moments that he’d drop by with food and care for her wounds.
And being the desperate fool I am, I live for those minutes.
If their time together affected him as well, it didn’t show, but she didn’t let it hurt. She had enough pain from other things.
He leaned close so that when he spoke his breath caught her hair. “That’s his favorite book. He made me read it when I could hardly understand the words.”
She ran her fingers over the highlighted words. “Yeah. It’s iconic even in the human world. I don’t know how. I’m not sure what they glean from it.”
“What about you? What do you get from it?”
“I don’t know. I used to read it and think it was my story. Or any of our story. We are born, and we look human, but we aren’t. We grow and learn and find our wolf. Then life really starts.”
“But Buck isn’t a wolf. He’s plainly a dog.”
It didn’t surprise her that Mikos only saw the surface of the story. But the tome in her hands was more than a story about a dog transitioning from domesticated companion to wild and pure. “I know. But it’s a reflection of what was inside all along.”
“You used to read to me.”
Kyra smiled to herself. The pack lived separate from the neighboring humans, but they still had to know their ways. Needed to blend in. Many held jobs in town, even if they spent any other time away. She once held a summer job in town, shelving books for the local library.
It was a strange experience, and she’d been fascinated with how much information could be contained in a small building. She was only sixteen then, and she’d obsessed about sharing her finds with Mikos.
“We can do that again.” She flipped back to the first page.
* * * *
Kyra woke, startled from her dream by a feeling she couldn’t explain. Like a sensation of being watched, but not externally. Something heavy rested over her stomach, bringing a dull ache with her every breath. Maybe that was it. She opened her eyes. The night sky winked at her. The cold stream trickled. Mikos twitched against her side.
Her gaze slid to him. His brown eyes stared back. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she doubted she’d forget waking any time soon. Her body was pressed against him, their legs entangled. Her left arm curled between them exhibiting no pain as if his presence made everything better. Well, I suppose it does.
“Am I hurting you?” he asked. “I guess I fell asleep too, but I’ve been afraid to move in case you were in pain.”
She held her breath as she separated her legs from his. He scooted away a few inches and she remained on her back, staring at the sky.
“I’m fine,” she managed finally. If she didn’t move too quickly, she could almost ignore the fact that her midsection was on fire. “A little sore, but it was already like that.”
“Did you love me? When we were together?”
She sat up slowly, the random question spinning their situation back into focus. Why does it matter? “I did. You know I did. I didn’t think I would.”
“I was told constantly that we didn’t have the choice to mate for love. When eve
ryone else had freedom, we had obligation.”
“Yeah.” A twinge of bitterness seeped into her voice. “The only couple in generations to be betrothed and look how it went.”
“But we were close.”
“But you didn’t love me,” she stated softly. “I always went back and forth on it when we were younger. Sometimes I thought we were madly in love. Then I thought it didn’t matter. Now I know.”
He frowned, shadows falling deep around his eyes. “I was never in love with you.”
His admission didn’t hurt the way she expected. A hollow void blossomed in her stomach, and her heart seemed to stutter, but that was it. His words were a verification of something she’d already known, after all. She steeled her voice and inched away from him. “It’s okay.”
“But you have to understand,” he said. “You were handed to me like a responsibility. Ian brought me to you and gave me orders. Take care of her. Help her grow. Teach her. Love her. Make the pack proud.” He shook his head. “And I did. Except that I loved you like I love my brother.”
“It’s okay.”
A breeze swept between them, and he covered her hand with his. He held their joined hands up and squeezed. “No, it’s not okay.”
“As you said, there was nothing romantic about our meeting. To start, we were nothing but kids. And on top of that, I was presented to you like property. Back then I thought it meant I was special. Now I see it for what it was.”
“You were nothing but a duty to me. Eventually, my parents told me it was okay if I didn’t love you and expected that I wouldn’t. But it was supposed to be about the pack, and that’s larger than us.”
She glanced away from him. “I get it.”
“No, you don’t. I’m not who I was back then either. The night you remained in your human form and I had to run without you, I gave up on that tradition. I couldn’t even face you afterward because I was ashamed.”
She lifted her head in shock. “You were ashamed? Why?”
“Because you weren’t property. You weren’t a duty. You were my friend. I hated myself for pretending to love you that entire time and going along with an outdated and absurd custom.” A golden glow rimmed his pupils, and his brows were slashed in frustration.
Frowning, she pulled her hand from his grip. Though the absence of him tore at her, she scooted from him. “That’s why you haven’t chosen a new mate? Because you were rebelling, and we were friends?”
“Why did you think it was?”
She shook her head. For years she had wondered and always assumed it was some deep and noble reason.
Or more foolishly, that even if he’d clearly had no feelings for her before, that the chance of losing her forever had stirred something in him.
“I couldn’t let them exile you, just like that. I was optimistic. I thought you’d pull through.”
“But then you would’ve had to mate with me, which you didn’t want to do.”
He plucked idly at the grass. “That’s a lie. I couldn’t wait to mate with you.”
“But you didn’t love me.”
“We got along well. Obviously, I’ve always wanted you. Had you changed like you were supposed to, everything would have worked out.”
“I know. Facing the pack after that night... It opened my eyes to a lot about what was wrong with us.”
“Exactly. And eventually, I had to think past what my dick wanted. There are other things that make a relationship work.”
“I know that,” she said rolling her eyes.
“Really? Because you say you loved me. I always knew you did. But I never understood why. And even now, I don’t understand why you’re obviously hurt that I didn’t love you back.”
She bristled. “What do you mean?”
“How did you fall in love with me? There were points that we could never agree on, and honestly, you were proud and conceited. You were obsessed with your place in the pack, Kyra. And I was equally foolish, so how did you love me?”
His accusation stung, and she hopped to her feet with a groan. Wincing, she slapped his hand away as it flew out to support her. “I guess this is karma then.”
She limped back to the cabin, eager to seek shelter to lick her metaphorical wounds. She wanted to move on from the past. Why did Mikos want to bring up so much she couldn’t change? Why couldn’t they have a nice moment?
FIVE
Kyra woke to the creak of the door. Mikos padded in on socked feet, surprisingly quiet for being as large as he was. She turned onto her side to face him, seeing no point in feigning sleep.
“Salve time?” she asked.
He held up a small glass jar and bag of white cloth in response. “Sorry to wake you.”
“I couldn’t sleep anyways.”
“Pain keeping you up?” He squatted down at her side and reached for her arm. “I’m sure there’s something we can give you for it.”
“I know. Ross brought me something the other night.” She sat up, gathering the blanket around her lap since she slept with no pants. “A tea for pain. Worked like a charm.”
“Well, that explains how you were moving around without keeling over. But it’s a mask. It doesn’t remove the source of the pain. You shouldn’t overexert yourself.”
Sliding over to him, she pulled the long, loose sleeve back and presented her bandaged wound. “Fine,” she murmured. “But I don’t think I need it to sleep.”
It wasn’t pain that kept sleep elusive, though she’d be lying if she said there weren’t moments where the wounds felt fresh and agonizing.
It was the nightmares that kept her tossing and turning. Sierra’s golden eyes and lupine form standing over her. The taunts of “princess.”
“It’s not that kind of pain,” she murmured.
His jaw clenched as if he bit back a reply. Carefully pulling her bandage away, he shook his head. “I’m sorry about the stitches. We had to decide quickly on them.” He turned her arm carefully, frowning at what he saw. “We didn’t know if your skin would pull together on its own or not. If we waited to see, it could have become more difficult to get the wound sealed properly.”
She’d wondered about that but never asked. “I’ll live,” she replied glibly. “I mean... It’s okay. I’m glad you did the stitches. I definitely needed them.”
“If it scars, it’ll be noticeable,” he apologized and carefully spread a thin layer of brown medicine over the sore injury. The salve looked and spread like caramel but smelled like rotten herbs.
“There are worse things than scars,” she said with a sigh. “As long as I can use it, I’ll be fine.”
He looked at her with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Really? The Kyra I knew thought scars outside of mating marks were a sign of weakness.”
“Yeah. The spoiled princess thought a lot of things were signs of weakness,” she replied. “But surprisingly, when everything I had to fall back on turned out to be useless, I stopped seeing things that way.”
He shook out a strip of white cloth. “I shouldn’t have said what I said last night. It was uncalled for.”
“No, don’t apologize. I know I got pissed and stomped off, but it’s mostly because I know already.”
“And?” He eyed her while he wrapped the clean bandage around her arm.
“And I’m sorry that you had to put up with me back then,” she muttered. “The worst part is that I’m not sure it’s all gone. Sierra got in my face and the first thought I had was to bring up her family line. I thought I was better than that, but apparently not.”
He circled the cloth around her forearm several times and smoothed it down. “Sierra has a way of bringing that out of people. Was that before she attacked, I assume?”
She watched him tie the bandage off and nodded. “Yeah. We’ve got that in common, me and her. We know how to push buttons.”
“What did she say first?”
Kyra shrugged. She wasn’t about to admit that in a flimsy way, their argument had come about because of
him. “Nothing important, all things considered. I just got angry. And petty.”
Even though she wanted to punch Sierra’s face the next time they met, there was an ache of sympathy for her. She’s in the same mess as me, in a way. “I get why she is the way she is. Her old pack was equally as obsessed with purity as ours. She’s practically un-mateable thanks to the system. It’s gotta sting. She’s pretty.”
He arched a brow. “You think she’s pretty?”
“You don’t?” She shook her head. I don’t want to know. “Nevermind. That’s not the point.”
“You were never the brave type before. When I came across you that night, so torn apart... I couldn’t fathom how it could have happened. Then I realized you must have stood up for yourself.”
She laughed dryly. “No. There was no bravery there. I ran. I’m a damn good runner.”
“I guess brave is the wrong word then, but...” He scratched his stubbled chin. “You didn’t beg. I know because Sierra would’ve bragged about it.”
Kyra sucked in a deep breath. It hurt, not only the breath but the truth in his observation. Both the part of the old Kyra being a wimp and the revelation that Sierra was boasting about harming her. “Yeah. The old me most definitely would’ve begged. I would’ve cried my eyes out and been on my knees. And she would’ve killed me on the steps of my shitty trailer for it.”
Mikos gathered his supplies and sat back, staring at her as if she was something newly discovered.
“The old me, focused on duty, and the old you, focused on yourself, were made for each other,” he said quietly. “I’m kind of surprised it didn’t work out.”
She lay back and yanked her shirt up, so he could access the bandages on her stomach. “I don’t know about you, but except for not finding my wolf that night, I’m glad it didn’t.”
* * * *
After a lunch consisting of a cold sandwich and stale chips, Kyra stood before the bathroom mirror, daring herself to peek underneath the wide bandage over her stomach. She had to know. How bad was it really?
