Page 22 of Wolf's Bane
“What is Hardwick like? I barely remember him.” Luis followed her, arms laden with every item their guest could require. Solenne herself carried a pitcher of hot water.
The bedroom door burst open, and a large figure of a man filled the frame. He was cleaner now and dressed casually in a clean white shirt and trousers. His hair had been combed, but his beard was as wild as ever.
The traveler at the cottage.
“Alek,” she whispered. This was it, the moment she’d been anticipating for years and the moment she dreaded. She felt like the same over eager girl in the throes of her first love, living for brief touches and stolen moments alone. Nothing had changed. It was as if she had been frozen in amber, and she struggled against the binds in frustration, because she had changed and so had Alek. She hadn’t even recognized him. “You look—”
“Tired,” Alek said. He eyed Luis. “You’ve grown since I saw you last.”
“Puberty does that. Can you even eat with that thing on your face?” Luis responded.
Alek’s face remained blank for three heartbeats. Solenne scrambled to apologize because they needed Alek’s help—she had begged for it—and they could not afford to offend him. Even if he was smelly and sported a wild beard that made him look more beast than man.
Alek threw his head back and laughed, loud and booming. He stroked the chin of his bushy beard. “Meals are tricky. Sometimes I like to tuck bits away for later.” He mimed picked out crumbs and popped the imaginary morsels in his mouth.
“Set that down on the bureau, please,” Solenne said, nudging Luis.
Travers put Alek in the same third floor room, tucked under the eaves of the attic as when he apprenticed with Godwin. Narrow and small for an adolescent, the room was too cramped for three adults. The ceiling slanted dramatically, requiring Alek to duck his head. A cool breeze flowed in through the open casement windows.
The furnishings were simple: a bed too narrow for the grown man to sleep comfortably, a desk and chair, and bureau. A battered trunk took up much of the floor space.
“I’ll have Travers ready a more appropriate room. This is too small,” she said as she pulled out the chair. “Sit. Shirt off.”
“Do not bother. The room is adequate.” He sat but did not remove his shirt.
“It is a child’s room with a child’s bed. I need you fresh and limber, Hardwick, not twisted and stiff.”
The muscles in his jaw twitched. She raised an eyebrow. He cleared his throat and looked away before saying, “I don’t want to be a bother. Perhaps the cottage?”
Luis perched on the edge of the bed, his knees bumping into Solenne. She tripped over his feet as she moved to the bureau.
“If you wished to be exiled,” she said, shooting Luis an irritated glare. He shrugged and tucked his feet carefully under the bed.
“I’m used to my privacy,” Alek said.
“The answer is no. I’m afraid I won’t put the extra work on Miriam and Travers. I’ll find you an adult-sized room, but you’ll be in the house. Now, shirt. Off.” She snapped her fingers. Alek rolled his eyes but complied.
The wounds weren’t as bad as she remembered. They appeared less angry but still red and swollen. The scars on his stomach were faded, almost as if they had been there for ages, but she remembered they were red.
She kneeled before him. His knees parted, allowing her space. Up close, the smell of the caustic soap drowned out anything unpleasant. His scent was sweat, green grass, and cool water.
Her fingers brushed the sun tattoo, then drifted down to the tight lines that crossed his stomach, his abdomen muscles jumping. A wolf once tried its damnedest to shred Alek to pieces. But they had been red. Perhaps that had been a trick of the light.
The bite, though, her memory did not fail her. As red and angry as ever, it needed attention before infection set in.
Solenne was aware of Luis watching her as she inspected Alek’s injuries. She refused to blush. She refused to let her heart flutter or her breath quicken. This was another injury, just body parts not so different from any of the other bodies she tended.
“You know what? I don’t need to be here,” Luis said. As he exited, he managed to kick her calf, trip over her foot, put a hand on her shoulder, and nearly shove her head into Alek’s lap. To be so clumsy required an amazing execution of grace.
Alek’s eyes followed Luis, narrow and calculating. When they were alone, he said, “Is he that clumsy?”
“I think he thinks he’s funny.” Solenne rose to her feet, resisting the urge to smooth her hair or fuss with the folds on her dress.
“You changed,” he said.
“I was covered in mud, same as you.”
“I was not referring to your garments.” His tone felt mocking, like he expected her to be preserved in amber while he transformed into an almost unrecognizable man.
