Chapter 8-3
Chapter 8-3
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Saul chuckled softly. “We both know that is not true. I’ve spent a long time thinking that you had
the heart of a killer.”
“You agreed not too long ago that I was responsible for the death of your sister.”
“The hand of a killer is not the same as the heart of one.”
Enough of this bullshit. I didn’t know what Saul was doing, but I moved into the clearing.
“Shift and hunt. I’ll keep an eye on her,” I said stiffly.
With a nod, Saul stood and walked away. I grabbed a pack and walked closer to her and tossed it to her feet. The light of day had dimmed, and she was lit up by the orange glow of the fire. I could see every line of exhaustion on her face and the pain still lingering in her gaze.
There was no point in bringing it up. She was stubborn. If she didn’t want to shift, if she just wanted to be in pain, that wasn’t my fault. I didn’t give a damn. Fuck this ache I feel deep in my chest, fuck it all.
“I have some dry packets for soup. If you refuse to shift and hunt, that is what you’ll have to eat.”
She didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at me.
“There’s a pot and some water in the pack. You can make it yourself.”
Still nothing.
“I won’t be ignored, Kiana.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, voice flat and sugar-slick. “I was just waiting for permission to speak. Thank you so much for the soup, Alpha. It sounds…delicious.”
At the flatness of her voice, I jerked. She still didn’t look at me but dutifully reached for the pack. I watched as she assembled the items and hobbled closer to the fire. All of Saul’s hard work would be destroyed, but she didn’t ask for help. Just silently focused on her task.
Swearing silently to myself, I picked up the log she’d been resting on and dragged it closer to the fire. “Sit,” I ordered. “Then make your damn dinner. And I’m not your damn father. You can speak around me.”
She looked up at me, and something strange glittered in her eyes. “No. You are definitely not my
father.”
There was something in the way she said it-cold, cutting, almost sad-that made my throat go
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dry. But I didn’t ask. I just sat there like an idiot and watched her stir powder into boiling water.
The other wolves had returned by then, so I left to hunt on my own. When I returned, my shifters had formed a protective ring around Kiana. It wasn’t, I knew, by choice.
She was still awake, staring up at the night sky with her leg elevated.
My wolf’s own pain was too strong to ignore. For the first time in a long time, I gave him the reins, and he approached her cautiously and sniffed at her knee. Her whole body had gone stiff, and
she’d paled.
She was afraid of him.
Good, I thought… but the moment the thought formed, my wolf snarled at me. Furious. No,
offended
He ignored me and nudged at her arm. After a moment of hesitation, she moved it slightly and placed it on top of his head.
Contact.
The moment her palm touched his fur, he shivered then folded down beside her, pressing into her small, shaking form like he was anchoring her. Like she was his home.
And moon above, she felt so fragile. So human. So goddamn breakable.
How the hell was she still alive?
I wanted to take pleasure in this moment. To soak it in. It was easy to hide behind my wolf. We were each half of the same spirit. Denying one half too long was dangerous. I could give him this.
He sensed them before I did. This contented wolf who only wanted to be by his mate. I was distracted. Torn between him and myself, and by the time I realized there were other wolves nearby, there were already two on me, fangs tearing into me from both sides. My wolf roared,
twisting, clawing, but they were organized.
Then Kiana let out a loud scream.
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