Page 6 of The Fated Hunter Wolf
Sighing, I grabbed the hem of my shirt and yanked it up, exposing the gashes across my chest. The air hit the wounds, and they stung like a bitch, still raw and sluggish in their healing. The sight wasn’t pretty—deep, jagged lines that hadn’t closed the way they should’ve.
Logan’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching. “Not that bad?” he echoed. “What the hell did she do to you?”
Before I could answer, the faint sound of footsteps reached us, and I glanced over my shoulder. Eve was heading our way,her pace quick and purposeful as it always was, her expression changing the moment she saw me.
Her nose wrinkled, and she winced. “Rhys,” she said, her tone halfway between concern and exasperation. “What did you get yourself into?”
I dropped my shirt back into place, rolling my shoulders like it was no big deal. I was tired of being treated like a kid. “You guys are blowing this out of proportion. It’s nothing.”
Eve stepped closer, her dark brown eyes narrowing as she reached for the edge of my shirt. “Let me see.”
“Here we go again.” I sighed but didn’t fight her.
She lifted the fabric just enough to inspect the wounds, and her face tightened. “That’s not nothing, Rhys. You should’ve been able to close gashes like that, even if they are deep.”
“Apparently, her claws come with some kind of sting.” Logan answered before I could, his voice like thunder. “Poison, maybe. I wouldn’t put it past her. Remember, this is the same woman who lured us into Heraclid territory and into a fight that could have ended Orion..”
Eve’s gaze flicked to Logan, then back to me, her concern deepening. “This isn’t normal. You’re still standing, so it’s not wolfsbane, but you’re going to need some kind of salve on that. I’m going to ask for Anwen. She’s a healer. She’ll know what to do.”
I snorted, trying to shake off their scrutiny. “It’ll heal.”
Eve frowned. Her fingers brushed the edge of the wound lightly. My wolf didn’t flinch under her touch—if anything, he calmed slightly, sensing a hum in her that felt awkwardly familiar. “This isn’t about whether it’ll heal,” she said softly. “It’s about what power Sable has that she could do this to you.”
I knew she was right. Whatever Sable was capable of, I didn’t like it. I didn’t want it. But I knew that as soon as I could, I’d be out looking for her again.
I’d consider wearing armor next time.
4
SABLE
The hut wasn’t much. Made of scrap wood with a roof that leaked when it rained too hard, and a single window to let in a few rays of sun, its best quality was that it was safe. Tucked into the far edge of Heraclid land, it offered the kind of quiet I hadn’t known in years. No pack politics, no prying eyes. Just the trees, my thoughts, and the new ache that wouldn’t leave.
It had only gotten worse over the past three days since Rhys’s lips touched mine.
I sat cross-legged on the rough wooden floor, my back against the wall as I tried to focus. My injury wasn’t visible, but I could feel it—a molten throb deep in my core, like I’d swallowed boiling water and it had settled there to burn me from the inside out. Every time I moved, it flared, a reminder of that kiss, that moment, that horridmistake.
The bowl in front of me glinted dully in the morning light that spilled through the gaps in the walls. Inside the bowl, the water was still, a single thread of silver magic curling through it like smoke. My fingers hovered above the surface, shaking with the effort of control. Silver magic wasn’t my specialty—it was delicate, finicky, and never liked me much, especially givenmy origins. But when it worked, it really worked. And I was desperate.
“Come on,” I muttered, pressing my palms together. I focused on the heat in my core, trying to picture it easing, draining, cooling. The magic in the bowl trembled, responding to my intent—or maybe mocking it. Hard to tell.
A sharp flare of pain made me wince, and I lost my concentration. The thread of silver snapped, dissipating into the air with a faint hiss. I cursed under my breath, grabbing the edge of the bowl to steady myself as the pain took hold, which of course sent it flying.
The throbbing wasn’t going anywhere.
I’d hoped that when I touched him, I could finally put this deranged pull to bed. Wrong.
I stared at the bowl, my hands trembling with the frustration bubbling inside me. The magic should have worked. Ithadto work. But no matter how hard I tried, the throbbing stayed, simmering just beneath the surface like a fire I couldn’t put out.
Why? Why wasn’t it working?
My power had never been this stubborn before. I could see the heart of someone with a single touch—peer into their deepest truths, the ones they hid from themselves. It wasn’t prophetic or grand, like Eve’s visions. No dramatic glimpses of the future or the Moon Goddess whispering in my ear. It was quiet. Subtle. A thread running beneath the surface, unnoticed unless I pulled it. Subtle or not, it had saved my skin more times than I could count.
Until now.
When I’d touched Rhys, all I saw was black. And that scared me to death. Whatever curse was inside Orion, it was insidious, and I wanted nothing to do with it. I hadn’t intended to use my power to drain his energy, but when I saw that blackness,it reminded me too much of where I’d seen it before. And I panicked.
His brothers held the same bleak darkness in their hearts too.
