Page 18 of Oath of Revenge

His body was on fire. Sweat or blood dripped down his temple, yet he couldn’t move. He hated that he was lying flat on his back, vulnerable to her, a stranger, an enemy, a beautiful and terrifying druid.

But he didn’t feel any threat from her as she walked over, her swaying hips making his heart race.

His breathing grew shallower, but when their eyes met, his entire body froze. His breath, his heart, his entire world seemed to shift on its axis as their eyes connected.

Her green eyes called to the wild part of his soul. A growl rose in his throat, and his fingers itched to reach for her, hold her, claim her.

She slowed to a stop and frowned, tilting her head in confusion. Excitement coursed through his veins, and even with his injuries, his body felt the zing of desire and awareness. The hair stood up the back of his neck.

“You feel it, too?” His voice was ragged and rough from disuse, but it seemed to jerk her from the trance they were under.

She scowled and knelt at his side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her eyes flitting down his body with awareness. “You’re gravely wounded. If you were human, you’d be dead by now.”

“Growlers self-heal,” he said, never taking his eyes off her, his mind racing to comprehend these feelings. He watched for her reaction to his words, but she didn’t run away screaming like most humans. She was an enigma that he wanted to peel back, layer by layer.

She nodded and dipped her fingers into the bowl. “So I’ve heard, but some of your deeper wounds are taking a while, and I’m worried about the fever. At least you’re awake now, though. You’ve been passed out for hours. But it’s a good sign that you’re morphing back into a more human shape, right?”

He glanced down in surprise, seeing his hybrid form was back. Pain shot through his body in multiple directions at the movement of his neck. Teeth clenched together, he fell back onto the floor to wait out the wave of nausea.

It was several moments later that he realized her soft, chilly hand was rubbing the poultice on his shoulder and neck. Her voice was quiet, and even with his wolf hearing, he couldn’t make out the words.

But he recognized it as a spell of some sort, the tone similar to that the Elders used in ceremonies.

Her hand moved down his chest to his lower ribs. The coldness of the cream seeped under his fur, soaking into his body. For the first time, he could breathe a little deeper, a little easier. It wasn’t a miracle cure, but it was definitely better.

His body relaxed bit by bit, and he opened his eyes. The bowl was set aside, but her hand still rubbed up and down his chest slowly. She stared at her hand, his torso, as if confused on why she was still touching him.

His abs rolled at her touch, wanting more. His nose flared as he smelled her heady scent, heard her breath hitch as she stared at him. Her fingers made his body flutter but not from pain.

How long had it been since someone had touched him like this? It’d been months since his last mating, but Growlers were wild and ferocious, biting and snarling for dominance. There was no tenderness among Growlers.

He hadn’t had a gentle touch since he’d become a Growler. She was so soothing, so caring and calm as she wound the gauze over the poultice. His eyes grew heavy as he relaxed under her magical hands.

Scarlet kept scrubbing the floor in the kitchen, trying to get the blood out of the wood before Grandma got home. She’d be pissed if she found a mess, and Scarlet had spent the past few hours cleaning. The Growler was still passed out, but his presence was like a beacon. She kept stealing glances at him as she worked.

Thank the gods he looked more mannish now. It had made her fear diminish enough to take care of him without shaking.

She sat back on her haunches and rubbed her shoulder, the pressure on her neck and head pulsing with a dull ache. Fucking antlers.

The door flew open with a bang and Scarlet jumped up, pulling her daggers and crouching in front of the Growler. Fear threatened to choke her as her heart raced.

A cloaked figure stood in the doorway, wind blowing the edges around a pair of muddy boots. Scarlet blinked and relaxed as the aura penetrated her brain. Grandma pushed her hood from her head and stepped through the door, shutting it behind her.

If her red hair wasn’t streaked with gray, she could’ve passed for Scarlet’s sister. They had the same green eyes and freckles, although Scarlet’s had morphed with her curses. Both of them were average height and build, although Grandma had less muscle than Scarlet.

Scarlet slowly stood, putting her daggers away. “Grandma, where have you been?”

Olive arched her brows and removed her cloak to hang on the hook by the door, her muddy skirts swishing. “Is that any way to greet your grandmother, child?”

Scarlet rolled her eyes and strode over, taking the heavy basket from her with one hand and giving her a side hug with the other. “Welcome home, Grandma. I was worried about you.”

Olive patted her back with a sigh. “I know, but I’m fine. I had a dream, so I went to find the glocken berry.”

“What the hells is a glocken berry?” Scarlet asked, releasing her.

“A rare plant that only grows in one part of the forest. Is that him?” Olive slid the bag from her back and strode to the kitchen table, pointing to the fireplace.

“Who?”

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