Page 31 of His Mark

My body felt light, floating in the warmth, tension finally starting to unravel after days—weeks—of running, of fighting, of barely sleeping at all.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t cold, I wasn’t starving, I wasn’t running, and I wasn’t bleeding.

I ran my fingers through my hair, rinsing away the sweat and grime, feeling clean for the first time in far too long. My lashes fluttered, my breaths deepening as I dragged the soap down the length of my thigh, over the curve of my calf.

The wet heat soaked into my bones, unwinding me.

I leaned my head back against the edge of the tub, exhaling slowly. My mind drifted, the crackling of the fire in the other room a steady, soothing sound. The fight felt distant now, the blood and the howling and the chaos nothing more than a memory pressing at the edges of my mind.

I didn’t have to run. Didn’t have to be on alert.

Not here.

Not right now.

Not in this moment.

My body sagged, the water rising and falling with my breaths caressing my skin, lulling me into a slow, foggy, deeply relaxed state of mind. The warmth wrapped around me like a cocoon, my limbs growing heavier, my heartbeat a steady, even rhythm in my chest. I shifted slightly, sighing as I let my arms float at my sides, the heat surrounding every inch of me.

This bath was so damn comfortable. So warm. So safe.

My thoughts blurred at the edges, slipping into hazy weightlessness. I was floating. Drifting. Sinking into nothing.

I didn’t even realize when I stopped fighting it; didn’t even feel it when sleep took me under. I didn’t wake until morning and when I did, I was in Silas’s bed with him beside me, his arms around me, holding me close.

Like I was already his.

CHAPTER9

Silas

The scent of blood still clung to the air. The fires had burned low, reduced to smoldering embers scattered throughout the camp, but the damage was clear. Bodies, both human and wolf, littered the ground, some being dragged away by the survivors.

Jax was already barking orders, directing my pack to secure the perimeter and check for survivors. A few of my wolves shifted back into human form, their bodies battered and streaked with blood, but there was no hesitation in their movements; they knew what needed to be done.

I stopped beside one of the fallen wolves—one of theirs, not one of mine, thankfully. His fur was dark, almost black, his body larger than most, built for speed and strength.

This wasn’t some random raid. Someone had sent them. Someone who knew exactly where to find us. My jaw clenched, and I forced the thought aside for now. I needed answers, but first, I needed to take stock of what was left of my camp.

I strode toward the cluster of humans, their group smaller now, the survivors huddled near one of the supply tents.

Sorin stood at the center of them, her coat still streaked with blood, her dark eyes assessing as they met mine.

“How bad?” I asked.

She let out a slow breath, rolling her shoulders. “We lost eight.” She jerked her chin toward the injured behind her. “Another dozen wounded. Some won’t make it through the night.”

I ground my teeth together, my fists tightening at my sides.

“We need to move,” she continued, watching me carefully. “Whoever sent those wolves—if they made it back to report, we don’t have much time before they regroup.”

She was right.

Moving the camp wasn’t a simple thing, though. We had built this place to last and fortified it over the years, hiding it from the wolves that ruled the cities. If we abandoned it now, we might not ever find a place this secure again.

And yet, if Sorin was right—if we had been found—staying meant death.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “We’ll handle that later. Right now, I need to check on my wolves.”

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