Page 43 of The Blood Queen

“Are you okay?” he murmured.

The breath I blew out was brisk, chilled. “I’ll get used to it.”

One dim passage led out of Westvale. Another took us into Sentinel Falls territory. A third turned north, and then we were standing in a snowy field, in front of the house of memories—Grayson’s childhood home. The house Mace helped put back together, because, he’d said, every tender wound needed a scab to protect it from pain.

“This is as far as I got him. He’s inside, Noa. He won’t hurt you.”

He… meaning the wolf.

My heart twisted, swelled as if it would break. “He can’t shift back?”

“Won’t.”

Because of Mosbach?

As Alpha, Grayson had to kill and kill again, losing part of his humanity each time he eliminated wolves he was sworn to protect. Ferals. Hybrids—who’d once had packs, families who loved them. Mosbach had been a traitor posturing in front of the pack for decades, seemingly untouchable. But to Grayson, his failure to recognize the depth of the elder’s depravity would be a personal shame, one that would eat at him.

Slowly destroy him.

“I’ll wait here,” Mace said quietly. “If you need me…”

I put my hand on Mace’s chest, where I felt his heartbeat. The ink of his alpha tattoo appeared to writhe at the base of his neck—the tattoos were slave marks. Because once both man and wolf accepted the call, they were slaves to the alpha’s obligation.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He nodded. I walked inside where a fire glowed, the embers low, turning the fireplace into a claret-colored night light. The shadowy shapes were familiar: the table where we’d held our meetings. The couch. Chairs. The kitchen, the window—shafts of moonlight drifted in to shimmer like wraiths across the floor.

The wolf was curled in the corner, his back turned toward me with the ridge of black fur bristling. He knew I was there and yet he didn’t move. His sides expanded as he breathed. The tension in him snapped with the wildness I’d felt the first night we met over Levi’s bleeding body. When he’d wanted to kill me. Then let me go.

Finding the stack of wood, I stirred up the fire. Added more split logs to the iron grate above the glowing coals. I was going on instinct. On the memory I had of the wolf, the many times he’d helped me. Finding an easier path. Being strong when I’d been weak—even though he’d killed the rabbit. Then the night of the Rite, when I’d asked him to take care of Grayson.

Promise me…

I’d talk and let him listen. Wait with his back turned. Hope he would come to me when he was ready.

I sat on the floor, turned away from the wolf and staring into the flames. In my head, I counted the endless minutes as they passed. The moments when I tried to understand what the wolf was feeling. The day he killed the rabbit, this wolf battled Grayson with ferocity. Refused to give up control. He’d always believed his actions were for the good. Feared those same actions because they could bring utter destruction.

He’d been strong for Grayson.

He’d been strong for me.

I would be strong for him.

I picked up a thin branch—aspen, I thought—cut into footlong pieces, and poked at the fire until sparks popped. Heat filtered into the room, warming the floor. The claret glow from the flames wavered, brighter than before, while from somewhere outside, I heard a tree branch scrape in the rising wind. Finally, I said, “You have always been part of me, even though you aren’t mine. But I’ve felt you, twitching beneath my skin. Through his sigil, drawn to look like you.”

The wolf growled, a soft rumbling.

“We’ve talked before,” I reminded the wolf. “Mostly, that was me, doing the talking. Either offering advice or asking for help. And you always listened. I never knew if you agreed with me or not, but you… I always knew that you understood me.”

He slowly uncoiled, lifting his enormous head. His baleful eyes—those vivid blue eyes—told me the wolf was in control and he wanted me to know. No shards of green to tell me Grayson was aware, or even listening.

I scooted around to face him. Pressed my palms to the wooden floor and waited. The wolf did not react. But his chest rose and fell, rose and fell.

“I’m actually a coward. I was never brave enough to face the judgment in your eyes. You could always see the flaws in me. The truth inside. I’ll never have a wolf. Never know what it’s like, what he shares with you. But you know that I love him. And I love you for what you mean to him.”

Those blue eyes glittered, sparked.

“I will always protect those I love.” Conviction was solid in my voice. “And I will protect you through this. I will protect him. This is my promise, the way he gave his to me through the sigil. You are honor. Courage. With such a fierce, brave heart. Protect him for me until he’s ready to come back. And when that happens, then please… let him have control.”

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