Page 48 of His Curse

"You wentonfoot? With four bullet wounds? And a fuckton of poison in your system?" Her eyebrows raise and she shakes her head. "That's pretty damn impressive."

I just shrug. “I was on a mission and couldn't stop until I completed it, or died. Didn't really want it to be the latter.” A tear, one single stupid tear, manages to slip down my cheek and I angrily swipe at it. "Dying would have really thrown a wrench in things."

Frankie chuckles. "Don't I know it.” Then she reaches out, takes my hand, and gives it a comforting squeeze. "I'm going to see about getting you something to eat and when you're ready, Cora and I can help you shower and get a fresh change of clothes. After that I want to hear all about this lab, this crazy and dangerous group that my family is going to fuck up. Sound good?"

I nod, squeeze her hand back and drop my eyes.

It would sound better if Colton were saying it, but I should probably start trying to accept the fact that it's not going to happen. My mate really doesn't want me and I'm going to have to learn to live with that.

Frankie rounds the bed, almost walks out the door but she stops and looks at me over her shoulder. "Colt made the bird.” She smiles warmly. "He carved it the entire time he sat at your bedside. Didn't leave once until he absolutely had to.” Then she slips out into the hall to leave me staring at the space she once occupied.

I look down at the bird in my hands, the beautiful meadowlark made from oak.

With a shaky finger, I trace the elegant line of its neck, the way it flawlessly smoothes into the outstretched wing.

A gift from my mate.

My mate who might not want me, but loves me all the same.

Maybe I won't have to worry about his rejection a second time, after all.

Still a pretty big maybe, but I can work with that.

Chapter9

Around the Campfire

LARK

"Uhm, don't you want a little privacy?"

My fingers curl around the waistband of my tattered scrub bottoms—the only clothes I found in the Hummer before I dumped it—my hands stopping mid thigh as I lift my head and arch a brow.

Frankie and Cora—her tiny little sister-in-law that is just as gorgeous as she is—both stare at me with slightly confused, more curious, expressions from across the bathroom.

The space isn't quite big enough for the three of us, a little cramped with our staggered heights and varying widths, but it's still better than what I'm used to even with the limited space.

When Frankie left, I wasn't exactly sure what to expect next, but she returned with Cora, who was carrying a bowl of the most delicious stew I have ever eaten, and after a quick and kind of unusual exam—one that confirmed Cora is definitelynothumanorshifter—they suggested I take a shower.

A shower in an actual bathroom.

A shower with a curtain and a cute claw foot tub with detachable shower head, real shampoo, even conditioner and body wash that isn't in the form of a dehydrated bar of soap.

And they gave me a razor, too.

Not that I have much to shave anymore. The hair on my arms and legs started to fall out about thirty years ago, after one of the doc's tests, and hasn't grown back since, but I will happily shave my armpits, legs, and trim my lady bits because even though that hair is sparse, it'll feel nice to do a little upkeep that I haven't gotten to do in forever.

It's a weird feeling, to miss such mundane and daunting tasks, but when you're robbed of the freedom to choose whether or not to do them, well, you learn to appreciate them a hell of a lot more.

"I don't really need it.” I drop my pants and move to pull off the baggy t-shirt I'm wearing. "Privacy didn't exist at the lab."

Cora blinks wide blue eyes and Frankie frowns. "You didn't have any sort of privacy in Wyoming?"

It's funny how neither one of them seems to want to use the wordlab.

I'm assuming Frankie told Cora what I told her, so they both know the bare minimum of where I came from, but they don't like referring to it that way.

And I'm not sure if it's for my sake or theirs.

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