Scarlet sighed and shook her head. “I haven’t, but I’m not leaving you down here with him. If this magically cures him, he might wake and attack. No, I’m fine, but you can go up to bed. I’m sure you’re tired, since you’ve been gone all day.”
Olive stood with a grunt, stretching her back. The dirty hem of her dress brushed against the Growler’s blanket, but he didn’t stir. The fire beside her burned too hot as she thought about what lay under the blanket. With Grandma’s return, she was suddenly glad that she’d thrown the patchwork over him when his wolf’s body had begun to morph into a more human shape. A well-defined man’s shape.
“That’s a great idea. If you’re sure you’ll be alright...”
Scarlet blinked as she tried to remember what they’d been talking about. She cleared her throat. “I’m sure, Grandma. We’re fine here.”
Scarlet looked up and caught the calculating expression on Olive’s face before she smiled innocently. Olive ran her hand down Scarlet’s cheek.
“My precious child, the world is changing, and with it, what you thought you wanted. I hope I have prepared you enough.”
Scarlet twisted to watch her, frowning at the cryptic words. Sadness and worry warred within those words, but Scarlet still didn’t know why. Questions swirled in her mind, making her dizzy.
She dragged herself to the deep cushioned chair beside the fire. She leaned back, her vision swimming as her head pounded.
Before her eyes closed, she checked the Growler’s aura. Her body relaxed as she watched it grow incrementally stronger.
Chapter 6
Wulfric’s nose twitched as the rich aroma of sizzling bacon, juicy sausage, and savory ham wafted through the air, filling the room with a tantalizing scent. Slowly, he blinked open his sleep-heavy eyes, feeling the crust of tiredness that coated them. With a deep sigh, he raised a hand to rub at his weary gaze before lifting his head to survey his surroundings.
The room spun as he blinked, taking precious seconds to get his bearings. Memories came back but only the recent ones yet again. The fight with Brody. The icy river. The druid’s cottage.
Squinting, he took in his surroundings. A woman with curly gray and red hair stood at the stove, stirring a pot of soup and humming to herself. He rubbed at the stiffness in his neck as he tried to remember how she got there. As he stretched, he felt a dull ache in his muscles, but it was nothing compared to the agony he had felt before.
He heard the even breathing behind him and turned his head.
The younger red-haired druid who had taken care of him lay on a large, cushioned chair, one leg thrown over an armrest, her head hanging over the other. Black pants clung to her calves near his head, and awareness slammed into him.
This was the woman who’d nursed him back from death. He glanced at the woman in the kitchen, warily watching her. The way she moved reminded him of the younger woman behind him. A relative, perhaps?
His mind was fuzzy, and he couldn’t remember talking to the younger one, but he must have. He felt like he’d known her for years. For once, he wasn’t worried about being vulnerable to someone behind him.
He came up on his good elbow, his injured arm wrapped close to his side with gauze. Beads of sweat broke out on his upper lip as he rolled to his knees, and his breathing grew shallow. His vision tilted and his heart raced from the pain.
The old woman’s skirts coming into view and a soft hand settled on his back, causing him to snarl and recoil in surprise. His body collided with the other cushioned chair, sending it skidding across the floor as waves of pain crashed through him. It felt like shards of glass piercing his skin, each one leaving a searing trail of agony in its wake. He could feel his muscles tense and shake under the intensity of the pain, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.
The sound woke the younger woman, and she jumped to her feet, daggers appeared in her hands as she jumped in front of the old woman, ready to defend her. Green eyes scanned the room, then she slammed him back onto the ground, her knee on his chest and daggers to his throat.
His entire body tensed under her weight, prepared to fight against her. The raw power and determination in her eyes only fueled his own determination to break free from her grasp. It was a battle between two fierce warriors, each unwilling to back down without a fight.
“No,” the other woman shouted, making the younger one above him freeze. Gods, she was beautiful, like an avenging angel.
Bright green eyes as deep as the forest at sunset. A wild mane of curly hair piled on top of her head just begged him to bury his hands in it. High cheekbones, wide little rabbit nose that twitched as she breathed deeply, her breasts rising and falling in the confines of the black vest and green shirt.
Their eyes met, both of their hearts racing. He could see the pounding of hers at her neck, the wildness in her eyes. A deep part of himself recognized her, wanted to flip her over and wrestle for dominance…
Wanted to claim her as his.
He blinked in surprise, and his heart stuttered as his body went slack beneath her.
She was his mate.
The Elders had said when the bond hits, they’d know. By the gods, they were right. He’d seen the mate bond snap into place while on a pack run with a neighboring pack. There had been no tearing those two apart. They were lucky to both have lived through it.
He wrestled with control of his primal side, not wanting to hurt this woman or scare her away. She wasn’t a Growler. She might not survive a rough claiming, even if she accepted him.
He’d seen a mate bond be denied, too. They’d both wound up dead within a few weeks. The need to protect her flowed through him, giving him new energy. Even if he had to protect her from a rough claiming from him or from herself, he’d see her safe and loved