Page 65 of The Girl in the Forest

“Enough to stay until the storm passes.”

His calm tone made me blink. He crossed the cabin to toss the backpack on the sagging bed, but rather than turning away so I could get dressed, he sorted through my clothes. I scowled as he pulled out jeans and a shirt. Taking his time folding silk panties and a bra. When his thumb brushed the panty crotch, I glared at him. I didn’t think he did it deliberately, but the intimacy made me realize how lonely I’d become, if watching Grayson touch my clothes could get to me, make me feel cared for when I’d rather feel offended.

Looking at him now, I wavered beneath the wave of power that was Grayson’s. He’d dropped whatever shield he used in front of Jodan, no longer blunting his strength, and I saw the Alpha of Sentinel Falls. The dread lord. I understood his commitment, the honor in sacrifice. The wicked sense of humor he hid from others.

But then I saw the utter isolation in his life.

Rain had dampened his hair during the walk from Jodan’s cabin. One inky strand fell over his forehead, and I wished for the freedom to push it back. To thread my fingers through his hair as if it was my right to comfort him.

His eyes met mine, and he pushed the wet hair back while I watched. His breathing grew uneven, tightening the tension in my stomach. He hadn’t really looked at me since the night I said Anson Salas would carry through with the fucking. But he was looking now with the shards of green in his eyes.

The fire flickered with a subtle, popping sound. Rain beat against the windows and the rhythmic patter should have been soothing. Only what welled up inside me was all the anguish and terror I’d experienced in the illusion.

The pointless challenge I’d issued to him in facing the witches, and how disastrously I’d failed.

The prophesies jumbled together, the promises of death and destruction—and some of what had been forewarned had already come true.

One would open the door.

One would seek the vengeance.

Hadn’t I been the avenger in that cave, seeking retribution for all the wrongs done to people I loved?

Hadn’t I wanted revenge—aimed for destruction?

Alarm was the cracking ice beneath my feet, and I thought—I thought of Caerwen, telling me about dread lords and failles being mirror images, reflecting the best and the worst. Then I saw the blood-drenched future in the witches’ warnings. What we were, what we were becoming.

You cannot trust him.

You should not be with him.

He will use you.

My heart jolted as the pieces fit. Grayson had battled so hard against bringing me here because he already knew—truly feared the prophesies I’d received.

Not for himself. But he feared what I would learn, and how I would see myself. The role I was meant to play.

I dared another look at his face. Self-recrimination tightened his expression. He’d brought me to the Gemini Witches against his better judgment, then let me go in alone. He’d been alone, too, at fifteen, facing the witches, and I understood—it wasn’t the questions he’d asked, but what the witches revealed on their wretched cave walls that had changed him.

Had he watched the kings destroy the failles and realized what he saw was his future?

Was that when he chose to resist fate?

I didn’t know where the realization came from, but I knew, without question, why he would never ask for my protection or accept my sigil. Because he believed what he’d seen—believed he was fated to repeat the sins of the kings.

He would never complete the circle, never bind me through fate.

If I ever protected him, it would be because I chose to do so and not out of obligation—like the obligation I’d forced him to accept by asking for the runes inked on my skin.

Had it been only hours ago, when I believed I understood this world? I thought answers were logical and solutions would follow.

Now I rocked against the sacrifices already made by Grayson, my dread lord, the Alpha of Sentinel Falls. The many pointless deaths that burned in my memory.

And the worst sacrifice would cut off all the light—if he made it.

If he battled and died while I stood by and did nothing.

Heat rose beneath my skin. I could feel muscles tightening. Too much energy, seeking release. I closed my eyes against the darkness, trembling, afraid to reach out. But I heard the nearly silent scuff of boots, steady and sure. Warmth wrapped around me. His hand cupped my face, his fingers unsteady, his breathing deep, slow.

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