Page 68 of Untamed

"What is that ringing?" the voice snaps.

I snarl when I hear the rustle of cloth coming from the voice's direction. It stops abruptly.

"What are you?" the voice breathes.

I take a trembling step. The back of my hand bumps warm flesh. Nearly gasping in relief, I skim my hand over Mactiir's body. Blinking, I can just make out his chest, the deep red-tanned skin a sharp contrast to the white in my vision.

I don't hesitate to crawl right up on top of him. I worry that I may hurt him. Is he already hurt? Have his many, many enemies captured us? I find his chin with my nose and bump it up so that I can snuggle my face in his neck. Stupid Mactiir with his enemies.

I let go of the tension in my body, melting like wax over a flame on Mactiir's warm body.

"Qitsuk," he murmurs. I feel his hand fall onto my back as heavy as a fallen oak tree. My soft 'oof' wafts over his neck. Mactiir groans lowly. "My luna," he says, a thread of panic leaching into his tone. I nudge his neck with my nose again, and he settles.

"I'm ruined," the voice whispers.

Tears leak out of my eyes, clearing whatever crud or muck is making me blind. I relax on top of Mactiir, just listening to him breathe steadily, in and out, and let my body wake my eyes up.

When I blink them open, I seethatfemale. The one from the dead tree. The one who tried to touch my Mactiir. The one who still has one good eye to glare at me from.

Her other eye is covered in bandages. The stark white cloth is only slightly paler than her skin. It makes her look even more ill, even moresickly; unkempt, lackluster, pallid.

"I'm ruined," she repeats with a stronger tone. One blue eye peers at me with self-pity pouring from her very skin and putrifying the air between us. She is on a bed, similar to the one I was on. Mactiir is on one, too. Well,we'reon one because I very much like curling up on Mactiir's hard body.

That one eye follows my fingers, tracing circles on Mactiir's shoulder. I feel sympathy; I do, but... she is alive. She is here, in this place, and I've changed my mind about the danger here. That female who scents of the moon on the darkest night with only the stars to light your path… she must have brought Mactiir and me here, so it can't be that bad.

Stupid Mactiir, arguing with the Moon. Then, hebitesme. How...audacious; foolhardy, risky, brassy.

I lift my head off of his chest to glare at his stupid, handsome face. I touch the bite on my neck from his canines. It's sore and tingles under my fingertips. Inhaling, I try to scent my state of health under the heavy scent of Mactiir and rotten herbs, but I can only smell the faintest whiff of myself.

Dark walnut eyes open in thin slits. They find me right away. Not that it's hard to locate me when my face is just a few inches from his, but it still startles me. I move away from him, but that arm around my back tightens in place, a pure band of unbending oak. His other hand, moving slowly, reaches up to cup my cheek. I let him caress me as his hand falls to skim over the wound he left on me, gently pushing my hand to the side.

"My cat," he mumbles. A ghost of a grin crosses his face.

The voice is sniffling in the background, but I can't pay attention to that female. Mactiir is pleased with himself for biting me. If that's not confusing, then the behavior of my she-wolf is. She is sitting, her body quivering in... excitement? Yes, I think she'sexcited; awakened, charged, feverish.

But it hurts.

Mactiir runs his thumb over my lower lip. "Don't be sad, kitten," he slurs, his eyes sliding shut again. His arm falls away, freeing me. I hold still, just listening to him breathe.

If I were talking to him, oh goddess, would I have questions!

Huffing, I judge my body. I'm still tired. My limbs feel as mushy as pie crust left out in a thunderstorm. I still force myself to stand. Only when my head stops spinning and my knees strengthen back up that I see the odd, thin rope going into Mactiir's wrist. It's held on with red and white bandages.

This can't be good. Reaching out, I gently peel back some of the bandages. It's sticky on the side that is touching Mactiir's skin. I have to pull a little harder to get it to come apart.

"What are you doing?" the voice says.

When the bandage is gone, I shudder, my entire body quaking. It's terrible. Why would anyone put this in Mactiir? The small blue cylinder has something thinner than thread stuck in his pulsing vein.

"Don't touch that!" the voice snarls at me. I growl back, letting my she-wolf tell this female that I can touch Mactiir all I want.Shecan't touch him, but I taught her that lesson already.

I tug and pull until something that suspiciously looks like a sewing needle slides out of his skin. A bead of red blood wells from the tiny hole the needle made in his body. I feel my she-wolf growl at the sight. Liquid, clear, and smelling of even more powerful tainted herbs drips from the end of the sewing needle.

I let it drop to the floor in disgust. Gently I smooth my fingertips over the tiny drop of blood, carefully examining his wound. I sigh softly when I see that nothing is marring his skin.

The sounds of footsteps make my canines ache. I place myself between Mactiir and the door to this too-white, windowless room.

"Hi sweetie," the Moon walks in with BlueStar just a half-step behind her. The Dark Male and the new one with yellow hair like me walk in next.

---