Page 41 of Ember and Eclipse
“Please,” was all she said, her hands in tight fists, her head bowed, waiting for the torment.
“In three,” he murmured as one of his hands wrapped around her bare waist to hold her steady.
He only counted to two before pouring it. The burning sting was unbearable. She gritted her teeth and tried to stop herself from making any noise, but the pain stole her vocal cords. She dug her nails into her legs, willing it all to pass. But little reprieve was to be had as he began stitching her up. Devdan was attempting to work quickly and efficiently, but the agony had white light flitting through her vision and her stomach roiling.
She wasn’t sure if she’d ever been in so much pain.
He cleared his throat behind her. “Lunae believe the moon from the day you were born says a lot about you. That it can even predict your future to some extent and some of your traits.”
Rel could only grunt her interest.
“When were you born?”
It took her a long time to answer, but she happened to know the exact moon she was born on. “I was born on the golden moon almost thirty-four years ago,” she managed through clenched teeth.
He made a sound of disbelief as the needle passed through her skin again. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“The golden moon comes about every five decades.” He paused—his focus on her back as he poured water over the cuts to wash away the blood. “It means you’re annoying, too stubborn for your own good, and overly indulgent.”
She hadn’t realized she’d leaned forward, until his hand that was holding her steady pulled her back again more gently than she imagined he could be.
“You still with me?” Devdan asked.
Huffing out a sound halfway between annoyance and pain, she moved as upright as she could, propping her hands on her thighs. There was blood beneath her nails, and she looked at the red with a sense of detachment. She had seen her blood too many times to have a reaction to it.
His voice was gruffer when he spoke again. “The golden moon means you’re meant to live without constraints, a wild thing. As rare as the moon itself, you’re meant to be cherished. You’re powerful and clever. Unfortunately, it actuallydoesmean you’re stubborn too. Unwilling or incapable of giving up, even if all the odds are against you.”
After a minute, he said, “It’s a good moon to be born on, a strong one.”
Rel felt anything but cherished, powerful, or clever at that exact moment, but she repeated the attributes in her head to inspect later. “And what moon were you born under?”
He hummed a thoughtful sound as if he were debating telling her. “I was born beneath a lunar eclipse. Lunae believe that only alphas, pack leaders, are born on lunar eclipses. We are meant for leadership, not quite belonging. A part of the pack, but not in the same way.”
She attempted to control her breathing. Nausea threatened to overpower her again before she could speak. “Are you the alpha then?
“No.”
“Why?”
“That’s a tale for another time.”
But sheneededhim to keep talking—it was the only thing tethering her to this realm. Keeping her from getting wholly lost and swept away by the pain. “Friend,” she gritted out. “Why did you name him that?”
Devdan huffed out a breath of a laugh. “For a long time, I was put on missions where it was just me, hunting and killing witches in the northern territories. There were times when it would have been too dangerous to travel in wolf form, though. So, I needed a horse.” Quieter, he said, “Most of the time, he was my only companion, so it seemed fitting to call him Friend.”
He’d been his only friend.
She wanted to respond, but at that exact moment, churning blackness filled her vision. Everything was enveloped by a dark abyss, and she could only whimper a warning before she was gone.
When she awoke, it was during the coldest part of the day, when the night was releasing its grip on the world and surrendering to light. She shivered instinctively, but she was secured in something warm, her face buried into the heated fabric. Inhaling deeply, she smelled crisp mountain air, cedar, and leather.
She was being held by the Wolf of Romul, her face buried against his chest and his arms around her.
Her back was sore, but all the pain had lessened to a dullness that she had known dozens of times before.
“Monsos run in clans, and I guarantee that was not the entirety of that one. They’re probably making similar raids, and when that party doesn’t return, they’ll go looking. I moved us and can’t risk building a fire.” His voice rumbled through her, throaty and rough as if he’d stayed awake the entire night. He shifted his arms around her, and she nestled closer still. “Go back to sleep. You can rest for another couple of hours.”
