Page 43 of Claimed By the Wolf
“We’re all coming to the ceremony this weekend,” he tells me.
I sit up straighter. “All of you?”
“Well…” Brax hesitates. “Nox has been working on a way to break the bond.”
I press my lips together. “Okay.”
“Is Emeric treating you well?” he asks, changing the subject.
“Yes, he’s… nice.”
“That’s good.” Brax is trying desperately to sound upbeat, but he’s failing miserably.
“Why won’t Nox return my messages?” I whimper. “Has he said anything about me?”
“Brynn, you know why.”
I press my lips together so tightly, I’m surprised they don’t bleed.
“It’s just a text,” I mumble, more to myself than Brax.
“Do you need me to bring you anything when I come this weekend?” Brax asks. “I think we sent all your stuff over already, but I’ll have a look and make sure there’s nothing else in the house.”
“No. I don’t need anything,” I whisper.
So that’s it. The last of my life is being erased there.
“I should probably get to the packhouse.”
I can’t find my voice as tears blur my vision again. It’s all too much.
“Brynn?”
“Go. I’ll see you this weekend.”
“You’re doing the right thing, for all of us.”
I hang up without saying goodbye and stand, ambling toward the window to look outside the vast property that Emeric owns.
It’s a show ranch, rather than functional, but a few hands are milling about, and two beautiful stallions trot through a closed corral. They’re summoning me outside, out of my head.
I don’t know how to ride, but I may as well learn while I’m here. There’s nothing else for me to do. Maybe one of the ranch hands can give me lessons.
Stuffing down my overwhelming sense of self-pity and sadness, I head back out of my room and into the hallway. A movement at the far end of the corridor catches my peripheral view, but it’s gone before I register what it is.
The female staff member from earlier joins me at the front door, a small bag in hand. “I packed snacks, anyway,” she chirps. “But I can carry them if you don’t want to.”
I’m not sure if I should be irritated or grateful. “You don’t need to follow me,” I tell her, accepting the bag with a thankful nod. “That’s really kind of you.” I search the recesses of my mind for her name. “Kayla.”
She beams but shuffles back. “Do you need anything else?”
I stare at her hopefully. “Do you know how to ride horses?”
She laughs dubiously. “Me? No. I’m just a—no.”
I get it. She’s a servant. Horseback riding lessons wouldn’t have been in her family’s budget. I offer her a meek smile. “Maybe we can ride together sometime.”
Her shy grin falters, and she takes a step back. “Oh, no, Miss Brynn,” she mumbles, paling at the suggestion. “I… You’re… Thank you.”
