| |
“You’re washing it.”
The words were so full of disappointment that I turned from my spot in front of the bathroom sink to see who was speaking. Luke had left one moment earlier, and I’d granted myself what I sorely craved—a few seconds to wipe away the pain of parting with running water. Now, though, I released the liquid cupped in my hands. I’d been intending to splash it on my face. Instead, water gurgled down the drain as I twisted the faucet shut.
“Washing is a problem?” I asked the stranger who stood in the open doorway of my cabin. She was naked and sagging in the breast and belly areas, but wrinkles didn’t quite cover up pale lines criss-crossing her skin.
So Ruth wasn’t the only scarred female in the pack that had once belonged to Luke’s father. Was this the real reason he was sending me away? Did he think I was afraid of physical imperfections?
There was no time to ask those questions, however, when the woman in front of me was already answering my first one. “Of course not. It’s your choice.” She sighed. “Perhaps you wanted romance? You must understand why my grand-nephew was in such a hurry. I assume he asked your permission before he bit?”
My finger slipped down beneath the collar of my t-shirt, feeling for the wound that Luke’s teeth had created after his father barked at him. I couldn’t quite touch the raw flesh because my shed skin had pressed up against the affected area. As if my pelt was protecting the wound from my tentative fingers. As if my pelt liked the fact I’d been bitten.
“No, he didn’t ask my permission,” I answered the stranger—Luke’s great-aunt?—while trying to figure out why I’d accepted the bite without question. Why, if I was honest, I agreed with my pelt.
The trickle of sticky dampness on my neck didn’t feel wrong, even if its creation hadn’t been entirely Luke’s decision. Instead, it felt very right.
“Oh.” The woman’s features pinched together. “Well, that’s unfortunate. But you must understand why he chose the old way. The pack will think twice about touching you if you smell like their alpha.”
Before I could explain that Luke’s father had intended the bite to do more than protect me, my companion laughed the dry chuckle of someone who’s put their foot in their mouth. “And now I’m telling you things you know already. I’m sorry. Bad impressions all around today, I’m afraid. I’m Aunt May. Acosta, obviously.”
I wiped my hand on my jeans and accepted her shake. “Honor Warren.”
I wanted so badly to request more information about this bite that I was already supposed to know about. But Aunt May’s head cocked to one side, then she abruptly changed the subject.
“They’re coming.”
If I’d been one of the skinless, I would have heard something. A howl maybe? Or a voice in my head?
As it was, I had to trust Aunt May’s senses and Luke’s analysis of the situation. Grabbing up my duffel and Luke’s car keys, I pushed past the old woman and into the summer sunlight.
Hopping off the porch, I landed on driveway gravel just in time to be caught up in a tide of running wolves.
***
THEY STREAMED INTO camp. Furry heads, backs, and tails packed so close together it was impossible to tell where one ended and another started. I thought I caught a glimpse of Ruth’s scarred muzzle at the edge of the crowd, but Luke and Michael were lost in the midst of the skinless.
Until, that is, something fist-sized and furry flew out of the pack’s center, smacking to the ground an inch from my toe.
Aunt May’s arm slid around my waist as she tried to steer me away from the wolves. “I suspect he wouldn’t want you to see this part, dear.”
But Luke had been the one to toss the thing toward me. I’d caught the gleam of his black fur one second before the furry lump arced through the air.
Now speech emerged in my head, staticky yet familiar in Luke’s deep rumble. The intrusion smelled faintly of cinnamon as select syllables materialized into words. “...Alpha’s Hunt...sword maiden...tokens....”
I couldn’t tell what he was getting at, but I could twist out of Aunt May’s grip and kneel down to see what Luke had thrown in my direction. At first, the object was unidentifiable through the blood and mud caked around it. Then I turned it over and caught my breath.
This object was a paw.
Something else flew out of the center of the pack now, floating feather-light onto the top of a nearby cabin. There was no way I could climb up to examine it, but I understood what I was seeing. That second object was an ear. And based on the paw’s scent, both came from the wolf—the father—who Luke had recently killed.
Aunt May was right. This was what Luke hadn’t wanted me to be part of. Lunch tried to make a run for it and I swallowed down the sharp tang of bile.
“Is there a kitchen in this place?” Aunt May rested one hand on my shoulder, as if her joints were unwilling to let her join me near the ground but she wasn’t quite ready for frailties of age to determine her behavior. “You could use a cup of tea.”
Tea. The notion was unbearably strange while skinless frolicked around a carcass. An entire leg flew off to thunk wetly against a porch post. The yips of the pack resembled coyotes’ laughs.
And, in my head, Luke’s voice continued to whisper. “...Away...danger...I need...choice....”
I shivered. Luke had wanted me absent before this awfulness started. I turned...then froze as it became obvious that I’d been noticed by another member of his pack.
A gray wolf curled away from the roiling mass even as Luke’s voice in my head went silent. The stranger raised his snout, nostrils flaring. Then his lips drew back into a toothy snarl.
“Oh dear,” said Aunt May. The expression on her face was all I needed to understand the situation.
She wasn’t just chagrined. She was frightened.
Without hesitation, I drew my sword.