Page 9 of Mated Exile

"It won't heal quickly enough unless I force my body into overdrive." Gritting my teeth, I put some weight on the leg, and swallow the pain that surges up the length of my side. "Shifters heal differently."

"If you say so."

I do. And I would know, out of everyone here, what it means to have a shifter's body after a lifetime in a human's skin. Unlike the others—hell, unlikeeverywolf in Glass Pack—I didn't find my wolf in the comfort of pack territory, in some strange ceremony near some old-ass rocks. I found him in the middle of a school day, surrounded by fellow military brats and their ex-pat teachers. One minute I was getting shoved around by some General's son with a mean look in his eyes, and the next minute I was standing on top of him, snarling and snapping in his face.

Yeah. They kicked me out of school pretty quickly after that.

Now I'm very familiar with the differences this strange new body brings with it. I learned about being a werewolf as an adult, mostly from trial and error, heavy emphasis on theerror.

When I was assigned to Glass Pack, William did what he could to help me figure things out. He even went out of his way to find me a young intended from another pack, thinking then that the curse would be broken by the time both of us were old enough for it to matter.

It was only after every woman died, including his wife, that it became obvious that there was no way out. So I found the same witch that Roarke's intended paid to break their half-formed mate bond, and I got her to break mine too.

The pain of pressing my weight against my leg soon settles into a dull ache. As progress is made with the front door, I test my limits by walking cautiously through the dining room and kitchen. My right hand trails on the wall beside me as I walk slowly, putting just enough weight on my leg to hurt, not enough to break it all over again.

One of the first things I learned after the wolf came out, and before my family was able to find a pack to take me in, is that being a shifter isn'tmeantto come easy. Every new skill I learned, every bit of strength I discovered, was hard-won and fought for.

My first lessons about broken bones came courtesy of my fellow military base brats, who taught me just how many ways my fingers could be snapped in half. Knowing my parents would only blame themselves for what happened, I spent the entire walk home bending them all straight and forcing them to heal by convincing the wolf inside me that we needed those bones to survive.

It worked. Which is how I'm certain that the only thing to do now is force the bone to heal. As soon as I've made several laps without limping, I pull away from the wall and do it again without leaning against my hand. Then I turn towards the stairs, breathing unsteadily through the pain, and put my right foot on the first step.

Cat wrings her hands as she watches me. "That seems a little much. Maybe you should wait."

Glancing over my shoulder, I look through the window and shake my head. "The sun is starting to rise. We have to go find Delilah."

"But if you—"

"I'll be okay, Cat."

Though it's not me I'm worried about.

Shifting my weight forward, I grimace and barely manage to hold a cry of pain inside. It would only worry Cat if she heard it, and that's the last thing I want. Grabbing onto the banister, I drag myself up one step, then set my weight on my left foot and force the right to bring me up another.

Then another. And another.

By the time I've reached the top of the stairs and turned around, the front door is at least mostly fixed, the broken glass panels covered by plywood and the hinges reset in the frame. Roarke stands in the open doorway, warm sunlight rimming his shoulders and head, staring up towards me.

I put my foot on the stairs and start the tortured path down them. He doesn't tell me to stop or warn me not to hurt myself. Even as sweat beads on my forehead, and I grip tight to the banister, breathing fast through parted lips.

He simply asks, "Will you be ready?"

"I damned well better be," I tell him, "since I'm the only one of us with a nose worth anything."

"Then we'll set out as soon as we've all had enough to eat," Roarke says, as if it's up to him, and I suppose it is. "I want to double check that leg before we go, Finn. I need more than just your word that you've healed."

I open my mouth to say something sarcastic and annoying, but shut it as I meet Roarke's eyes. There's a stillness in his gaze, like a still lake reflecting the summer sun. Some of that calm cool demeanor seems to ease into my chest as I take a deep breath. I nod sharply at him in assent, accepting that someone, at least, needs to make sure I don't throw myself headfirst into a permanent injury.

Because Cat is a wonderful and thoughtful woman who's run a few restaurants in her life, she gladly turns the stove back on and whips up yet another breakfast. I beg off this one, though I do take a glass of orange juice to sip as I carefully pace my way through the house. Each window I walk past seems to taunt me, threads of warm sunlight drifting in from the distant horizon, reminding me of the passage of time.

If only I'd paid more attention last night. I could have saved her. Even with that vamp holding the knife to her throat, if I'd just been fast enough or strong enough, or if I'd gotten her scent in my nose...

But the instant the land used its powers to drag the vamps away, Delilah was gone, and so was the last sign of her presence. Our only hope is that if we go deeper into the forest we'll pick up the trail of her scent.

It's been a few hours, but I know I can do it—I have the best nose in the pack, likely the only nose capable of tracking her despite the lake washing most of the scent away. First, I'll need four good legs to do it.

Several long minutes pass as I make my way around and around the house. My leg gradually takes more of my weight. Eventually the twinge of pain fades, and I feel the strength of the bone beneath me. The wolf inside me paces and thrashes, eager to get on with it.

Draining my glass of orange juice, I stalk back into the kitchen and stare down at the guys as they finish their breakfasts quickly. "I'm ready."

---