Page 56 of Oath of Revenge

Her hand settled gently on his knee, and some of the tightness in his chest eased. He linked their fingers and breathed deeply of the crisp, pine-filled air.

“I don’t think you’d do that,” she said begrudgingly. “Don’t take this the wrong way. I mean, you’re still a Growler, and we’re not mates. But the man I’ve gotten to know the past few days wouldn’t do any of those things.”

He shrugged, uncomfortable at her praise even as the hair on the back of his neck stood up. “Maybe,” he murmured.

He could hear the half-hearted agreement in his own voice. “But there’s no way to know for sure. Not until all my memories come back. Maybe then I’ll be a better alpha, and they won’t try to kick me out again.”

She tugged on his hand. He looked up to see her frowning fiercely.

“Well, I don’t need to know your past to know what kind of man or alpha you are. I don’t need to meet any of the other Growlers to know that you’d be patient and fair. You observe and take action based on what you think is right.”

He scoffed, “You don’t know that.”

Her eyes narrowed, “I know you listen and do what I tell you to. Earlier, we compromised on chores, hunting, and gutting. You aren’t afraid to follow when someone else suggests something. You don’t pretend that all ideas except yours are dumb. Do you know how rare that is in a leader?”

Wulfric frowned and shook his head slowly. “I remember some of my military commanders acted like that.”

She nodded and crossed her arms. “Exactly. That’s probably what led to your injury and being left on the side of the road for the Growlers to find.”

He stared into the fire. Was he that type of leader? Was that why he hadn’t seen the attack coming? Her soft hand on his arm made him look into her deep green eyes.

“You’re a good leader, not like those commanders. Not like the former king of Busparia or even the leaders of the Hunters. Memories or not, you’re a good leader, Wulfric. Don’t even think for a second otherwise.”

She tossed her head, and he grinned. Her fight was a balm to his soul. He leaned over and kissed her swiftly on the cheek.

Her outraged expression softened in surprise.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

Scarlet’s lips twitched in almost a smile, then she cleared her throat and took a drink, breaking their linked fingers.

“Well, I’m sure your wife loves you a lot. I bet they’re still waiting for you to come home from the war.”

A sharp stab of pain made him rub his chest with the heel of his hand. “No, I’m pretty sure they died. I remember the funeral pyres. A fever swept through the village, I think. So many funeral pyres.”

When her fingers linked back with his and squeezed, some of the pain eased in his chest. He wasn’t alone, at least not tonight. He had someone to share the recent memories with, someone whom he trusted.

Ironic, considering how quick she was to wave her daggers at him.

He cleared his throat and tried to take control of his emotions again.

“After that, I was drafted and went to war for Busparia. Left my—hm, maybe a shop? I might have been a shop keep, and my wife might have owned the tavern. I don’t know exactly.”

Her thumb traced his skin back and forth, easing some of the pain of the past. “And that’s how you became a Growler?”

He nodded. “I don’t know how long I fought before I was gravely wounded and shipped home on the Southern Road. Only, I didn’t quite survive.”

“The Growlers captured you? I’ve heard the rumors. I know that’s how they grow their numbers.”

He shook his head. “No, I wasn’t captured exactly. They found me on a litter on the side of the road, waiting to die. The caravan had ditched a few of us. I had nothing more to live for. My family was dead. When they offered a chance at a new life, I took it. I never questioned them or regretted it until now.”

They talked about their lives long into the night. He told of the memories that had come back and of life as a Growler. She told more stories of her Ranger father, then how she became a Hunter after his death in the war.

“Do you think my father became a Growler?” Her voice was soft as she lay on her side facing the fire. She yawned, and her head bumped his. Somehow they were both facing the fire, their heads close together so they could hear each other, their bodies curving around the fire.

His chest grew tighter. “I don’t know, bunny. No one in our pack looks like you with that red hair, but there are other packs.”

She snorted, “No one looks like me. I’m twice cursed, remember?”

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