Page 41 of Oath of Revenge

Then he slid them over her back in a caress so gentle, she felt tears in the corner of her eye. She hesitated to name why, focusing instead on what his caress meant. Acceptance, joy, and peace flooded her. Somehow, she knew he felt them all. The fact that her presence could bring him those emotions differed completely from what she’d known for so long.

He stroked her back up and down, and she sank her head onto his shoulder. His hand came up to cradle her head into the crook of his neck, holding her like a well-loved child and angling her small antlers away from him.

His arms could crush a man to death, but he held her so gently, her chest grew tighter. He didn’t treat her like a ferocious monster, like the other villagers who avoided her.

Could she trust him, trust these feelings?

She sighed, pushing the question away. She’d worry about it tomorrow. Holding him just as tightly, their breathing began to slow. Damn, even their hearts beat in sync.

The power of their shared release left her breathless. She’d never climaxed that hard before. But more than that was how he made her feel.

Her tight rein on her emotions was paper thin. The wall around her heart crumbling steadily with every stolen glance, every caress of his hands. The fear of that would return. She knew it would be short-lived, but she was too tired to be afraid and pull away.

Her body felt deliciously sore, and for the first time in hours, in the months since being cursed, her mind was at peace. She would bask in it for as long as it remained. Then she’d pull away, go back to her life, and forget about him. She couldn’t let her emotions get tied up in this Growler.

Chapter 13

Wulfric woke to find Scarlet sprawled limply on his chest, one leg thrown between his. Her petite, little calloused hand lay on his chest, and a faint memory stirred of some other woman long ago. A brunette with bountiful curves had sprawled just like this. She was…

His wife.

His body went stiff as he tried to picture her face. It was fuzzy, but he remembered a beautiful smile and thick hair that smelled of bread.

Sweat beaded his lip, and his breathing grew ragged. Scarlet stirred, and he held still as she nuzzled against his chest and murmured.

His wife must’ve done the same. It must be what had triggered the memory.

Yes, this contented feeling was definitely familiar. Holy goddess, he’d been married. Was he still married? No, there was no way he would willingly become a Growler if he was leaving behind a wife.

The familiar empty ache in his chest tried to pull him down into the darkness as he tried to remember.

The pain of loss pressed on his chest again, and for the first time in ten years, he understood why. A sudden image of a funeral pyre blazing in a temple seared through his mind, causing his arms to tighten on Scarlet. Pain pulsed through his body, but he fought to suppress any outward signs of distress.

The image of fire triggered a torrent of memories that overwhelmed him, sending bursts of light dancing behind his closed eyelids. The past flooded back in a rush, each one feeling like a slap to the face. He closed his eyes, trying to push them away, but they persisted with a vengeance. His heart raced as he tried to steady his breathing, caught between the agony of the past and the comfort of Scarlet’s presence.

The villagers offering their condolences as they all got roaring drunk at the tavern.

Training to be a soldier outside the capital.

The march to war with his friends.

The blood, the death. Battle after battle.

His body shook, and he slowly eased out from underneath Scarlet. She turned on her side and sighed, still asleep.

He lifted a shaky hand and raked it down his face. He paced to the door and back on silent feet. No more images came, and his breathing got easier the more he moved.

Were these the type of memories that the ambushers had had? If so, how had they gotten more memories faster?

Sleeping with his mate couldn’t have unlocked the vault on his past, because Brody and his friends weren’t mated. His mind ached as he tried to remember every interaction over the past few years. They had all been turned within the last two to five years, compared to his own ten. He’d been alpha for five years now, beta for the two before that. Before becoming a Growler…

Images flew through his mind. Battles. Bars. Women, but with one woman—his wife—featured more than any others.

Damn this Growler side-effect of being turned. When he’d been turned and lost a lifetime of memories, he’d not been prepared for the painful gaping chasm where they’d been stored in his mind. The more he realized he’d lost, the more painful it became.

Perhaps that was why he didn’t want to turn Scarlet. He liked her just the way she was, and he definitely didn’t want her turning into the same old she-wolves that made up the Growler tribe.

Vicious. Back biting. Sneaky.

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