Page 249 of Fated to the Wolf Prince
Gently, she licked the bird’s wound. The bird went still, completely motionless. Was it playing dead from fright? Then the small creature hopped to its feet and took flight. The sight was nothing short of amazing. I had witnessed Liza’s healing abilities before, but I was still left in awe. My mate was miraculous.
Liza glanced up at me briefly before running back toward the estate. I followed, my mind reeling. How had she healed the bird? Had a tear fallen from her eye without me seeing it?
When we shifted back into our human forms, I stared at her expectantly.
Liza smirked. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“How does the healing work?” I cleared my throat as heat crept up my neck. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but it’s absolutely fascinating.”
She shrugged. “I thought it was through my tears. That was how I healed my brother and then the rabbit in the woods. When I was staring at the injured bird, my instincts kicked in, and I found myself curious to know if my saliva would work, too. I suppose it’s just something in my DNA that does the trick.”
A chilling realization settled in my gut. The rumors about Liza’s blood having healing properties might very well be true. If they were, it meant she was in far more danger than I had initially thought. People who were seriously ill tended to be desperate and had nothing to lose. And desperate people with nothing to lose would do anything, especially if they thought it meant they’d live. I understood those people, to a point—they just wanted to live—but there would be assholes who’d see it as a way to benefit themselves financially, and they would do anything to get their hands on her blood. No matter which way we looked at it, my mate was at risk, and it was up to me to ensure that never happened.
74
LIZA
Iwas lost in the depths of my dreams. The little boy’s laughter echoed through the air. The dream was more vivid than any other I’d had before. The whole atmosphere seemed to be pulsating with life. We were both young. Again, I couldn’t have been more than three years old, yet there was a familiarity that tugged at my heart.
We were tucked away within an elaborate pillow fort, our own secret hideout. The walls were constructed from what seemed like a hundred pillows, stacked high, and teetering precariously. Stuffed animals served as guards, keeping watch over the entrance, their button eyes glinting in the dim light. Twinkling fairy lights hung overhead, casting soft shadows across the room, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow.
As I looked around, taking in every detail, the blond-haired boy grinned at me. There was something about him—something that filled me with warmth and affection. I searched through the recesses of my memories, but I simply couldn’t place him. Even so, I couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, connected in some inexplicable way.
“Come on, let’s explore,” he said excitedly, crawling deeper into the fort. I followed closely behind, entranced by the positive energy radiating from him.
We navigated our way through the labyrinth of cushions and blankets, giggling as we discovered hidden treasures: an old toy, a forgotten book, a half-eaten cookie. It seemed like we could spend an eternity nestled within our fortress, hidden from the outside world.
A voice from downstairs interrupted our play time, pulling us out of our adventure. “Time for tea, you two.”
The boy glanced toward the entrance, then back at me, a mischievous grin on his lips. “Five more minutes?” he pleaded, a twinkle in his eye.
I covered my mouth and giggled, watching as the boy raised his eyebrows expectantly.
“All right, five more minutes.”
The entire interaction and location was magical, but as much as I tried to hold on to that moment, the dream slipped through my fingers like water, leaving me with nothing but fragments and echoes of what had been.
I woke with a start, my heart pounding, sweat drenching my nightclothes, plastering my hair to my forehead. As I gasped for breath, I felt wetness on my cheek. I’d been crying. With mounting frustration, I tried to grasp onto the fleeting memory of the boy’s face. What had he looked like? Blond hair that was almost white, and blue eyes. Beyond those two features, the details were already slipping away into the murky depths of my subconscious.
I needed to understand why this boy was haunting my dreams. I glanced over at Ty, who was sleeping soundly beside me. Not wanting to disturb him, I tiptoed across the room to my desk, pulling open the bottom drawer and retrieving the packet tucked in the back.
As I ran my fingers over the worn folder, memories of the Wylde pack—the pack I had been born into—surfaced, and tears spilled from my eyes again. The pack I was now part of had brutally murdered my pack, my family. Thoughts of the lives lost, those who never got a chance to live out their full potential, haunted me every day.
With shaky hands, I pulled out the pack registrar and began scanning the list of names, searching for any clue that might reveal the identity of the mysterious boy. My gaze flicked over the names, lingering on boys born around the same time as me. Could one of them be the boy from my dreams? And if so, what did that mean?
Then I remembered. Some families had moved away before the pack’s destruction, fleeing Castro’s intense bullying tactics. Even at a young age, he’d been a terror. What if they were still out there, hiding under assumed names and keeping their true identities a secret?
“What are you doing up?” Ty’s sleepy voice interrupted my thoughts.
I looked over to see him rubbing his eyes, the clock on the nightstand casting its digital glow across his face.
“Three in the morning? Really, Liza?” he mumbled as he sat up. “You’ve barely slept. What are you looking at?”
I hesitated, then remembered his plea not to keep things from him again. Yes, this wasn’t about my safety, but Ty was my mate, my partner. I’d told him the other morning I’d had a dream, so he probably already had an inkling that my odd dreams had returned.
I stood from the desk, carrying the packet with me, and took a seat next to Ty on the bed. “I’ve been having a recurring dream about a little boy who looks a lot like Castro.”
He gaped at me, the slightest mention of Castro setting him on alert.
