Page 9 of Wounded Mate
Why does it matter so much to me?
Four steps in one direction, turn on my heel, four steps in the other. Repeat until crazy. Or until finally, the enchanted door opens, and Jeno and Leonas burst through together.
“Ready?” asks Leonas as if I haven’t been losing my mind waiting. He carries a length of rope looped over his shoulder, a folded hunk of red velvet fabric under his arm, and one of Rizpah’s brooms in his hand. Jeno holds a second broom.
We take the stairs two at a time. My side is bothering me less now that I have a purpose. Either that, or it’s just easier to ignore while in motion.
Outside, the crisp early morning air cools my cheeks and awakens my lungs. “How far?” I ask, concerned for Jeno.
“Not very,” says Leonas. “But we’ll need to hurry.”
That’s not a problem. We’re all capable of running full out for a long stretch, and with few humans up at this hour, we won’t need to worry about being seen.
“This way.” Leonas leads us through Pest toward the eastern gate, which isn’t manned in times of peace.
Once we’re outside the city walls, we turn north and put on a burst of speed.
The exhilaration of sprinting uphill, off the main road, past the farms, and into the wilds of the forest sets my chest to heaving and my heart to pounding. I drag fresh air into my lungs and focus on keeping up.
Jeno could run all night without tiring, and Leonas could probably manage half the night. My skills are more firmly suited to bed play, but I’m not without stamina.
Racing over brambles, autumn leaves crunching beneath my boots, I feel a pull ahead like no other. A yearning to be closer to whatever—whoever—lies down the hill we’ve just crested. Anticipation flutters in my stomach, my throat is tight, and all my senses are on high alert.
A mournful howl rings out, full of hurt, longing, and need. The sound tugs at my heartstrings, and though I’m tiring, a new burst of energy helps me rally.
I must comfort the injured wolf. I need him to be all right.
“Almost there.” Leonas is winded, but he’s not slowing.
As we hurry downhill, I get my first glimpse of him. He’s on the other side of a dry creek bed, half tawny-brown fur, half ashen white skin. A splash of dark red is splattered across his flank. Only his head lifts as we approach; the rest of him is still.
Too still.
He lets out another pitiful howl, an odd sound from human lips, though his form is neither wolf nor man but something in between.
My entire soul demands we answer his call.
I sprint the last few steps, overtaking Leonas to be the first to arrive at the creature’s side. So much blood. The metallic scent fills my nostrils as I drop to my knees and reach for him. But my hands hover over the smooth skin of his shoulder, hesitant to touch.
Our gazes meet. Words fail me. His golden irises are nearly swallowed by the black of his pupils. I can’t imagine his pain. The open wound isn’t bleeding anymore, but it’s a horror show of torn flesh, dirt, and sinew.
Distantly, I hear Leonas and Jeno arrive. Talk of a stretcher, of ropes and knots and handles filters in one ear and out the other as the wolf and I stare at each other.
My mouth hangs open.
My mind reels.
I’ve never seen a being so captivating. His ears, those of a wolf, twitch toward the commotion, but his eyes, those of a man, remain on me. A thick mane of brown fur cascades from his neck down his spine to his tail, curled protectively over human hips. The skin of his belly is delicate as any man’s, but the powerful muscles of his haunches shift from human to wolf the farther down his leg I look. His hands have five normal fingers, but his back paws are furred and clawed like an animal’s. He’s truly a sight to behold. Stunning.
If I ever come across the ones who did this to him, I’ll rip out their spines.
He stares at me as if I’m just as interesting to him as he is to me, though surely I’m not. I’m of average size with ruddy hair and plain white skin. I look like any ordinary human in thisform, though I’m often told my eyes are pretty. Blue, like the ocean, not that I’ve ever seen it. I’ve never left Pest.
He’s offered no protest, so I settle my hand on his uninjured shoulder and caress his smooth skin with my thumb while my fingers trace the softest fur. I study the line where animal and man meet. What a unique creature he is.
His tongue darts out and wets his lips, and when his voice comes, it zings an arrow straight to my heart. “Mate.”
Chapter Six
