Page 65 of Love and War

“Bright orange,” I told him, then laughed when he made a curious noise. “My eyes are closed.”

“Open them,” he said, stroking a thumb down my cheek. “For me.”

I had never been much of a poet or a writer aside from all the academic work I’d done. I envied the story-tellers of the past, because they would have had the words to give this moment to Kor that I didn’t. But I wasn’t going to deny him what little I could give.

“It’s bright,” I said. “The mountains look really purple right now, but the orange and yellows are spreading. They’re like Alpha and Omega eyes.”

“And the sky?” he murmured.

I looked up ahead of us at the rich cerulean. “Beta blue. There’s a big field in front of us, but the grass is mostly dead. The trees look like big sticks with all the needles right at the top. It’s beautiful.”

“I miss it,” he confessed. And while I’d heard all of his frustrations with his blindness, and how long it was taking to regain what he’d lost, he had never said anything like that. “I miss it so much.”

“Kor…”

He squeezed me, and my words died off before he spoke. “Cameron told me to mourn. He said the grief would be sharp and cruel, but it was also good. That as long as I didn’t let it consume me and stop me from living, to let myself feel it.”

I stroked my fingers over the back of his hand. “I wish I had been able to get us out sooner.”

He let out a quiet sigh. “I don’t think it would have made a difference. The shit they used on me—and I’m sure on other Wolves—unless we can get them treated right away, the damage can’t be undone. I just want to stop it from ever happening again.”

“We will,” I said, though I had no real business making that vow. But I felt it in my bones that we were going to try—that we might even die trying—and it would be worth it.

After a beat, he turned me in his arms and kissed me. “Thank you.”

I wasn’t quite sure what he was thanking me for, but I could feel the words were necessary for him, so I just nodded against his palm and let him hold me tightly for as long as he needed. It would be a long journey back, but it would be a good one.

* * *

I made my way into Danyal’s office after Kor left with Orion for his Council meeting. The tension surrounding the attempt on our lives was still high, but I could tell I was being followed, and even Danyal looked a little bit wary as he beckoned for me to sit.

“So,” he said, sighing as he eased back into his chair, “you’re here.”

I laughed quietly. “You really did know.”

He shrugged, but I could see something in his face. “I was fairly certain.”

“Did you know that my father was trying to isolate specific Wolf traits?” I asked, and the slight widening of his eyes told me he hadn’t expected me to work it out—which made sense since I wasn’t a biologist or a geneticist. But I was very logical. “I was thinking about it the morning after the moon. I felt something all night.”

Danyal leaned forward. “Like what?”

“A pull to be outside—like the other Wolves. But I knew I wasn’t going to shift. There was just a connection.”

Danyal let out a slow breath, then sat back and folded his arms over his chest. “I can’t know for sure until I can get my hands on his research, but I think you were likely one of his most successful cases. You didn’t have a heat before you got here, right?”

“Right,” I said, grimacing. I doubted I would have survived it there in the lab.

Danyal hummed, then reached over for his tablet and made a couple notes. “I suspect he was getting bolder with your treatments. I’ve worked it out as best as I can through theory. Something a bit like stem-cell treatments, though I don’t know exactly how he’s accomplishing it because extracting that sort of thing from a Wolf—even one pliant and drugged—isn’t easy.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

He looked at me a long time, and I wondered if my eyes looked like his—flashing the bright, intense orange of an Omega. I still avoided looking in the mirror too much, but I knew I’d have to stop avoiding myself eventually. I thought about what Kor said—how Cameron told him to mourn, to feel the grief, and maybe it was time for me to do that.

“I don’t think Kor was his first Wolf, and you were most assuredly not his first human,” Danyal said. “I don’t know how long these experiments have been going on, but your results are way too exact for them to have been an accident.”

I had a feeling he was going somewhere with it, so I waited for him to go on.

“The only thing I think that was an unintended response was your heat. I don’t think you were supposed to be an Omega. And I have a feeling,” he said slowly, “that his next experiment is going to be more successful than this one. And I think whatever he’s trying to do is going to go both ways.”

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