Page 48 of Oath of Revenge

She schooled her features to hide her flash of anger. Of course, he’d want to show off his manly muscles and take the bigger bag.

But it wasn’t worth picking a fight over. Instead of telling him to fuck off, she just shrugged and gathered the other bag on the table. “I’m going to make sure my horse has what she needs. I’ll meet you outside.”

She escaped into the bitter wind, the door slamming behind her. Fuck, what was she doing? Was she seriously about to travel through the Feral Forest on foot with a Growler?

It was madness, pure madness. Almost as mad as having a Growler for a mate.

Chapter 15

Wulfric laced up the other leather boot over his new brown pants and felt the pressure on his chest increase. The dizziness swept over him like a tidal wave and memories faded in and out.

A wife laughing at the hearth, a baby crawling on the floor. An old woman pulling a death shroud over his wife’s face.

He shook his head as the images flooded through his mind. Why now? Why were the memories coming now after ten years of being a Growler?

Sweat beaded on his lip, and he wiped it away, his head pounding. His stomach lurched, breakfast settling like a weight in his gut. He was too hot, the clothes too restrictive. He stumbled to his feet and pushed through the door.

The frigid air hit him, and he breathed deeply, eyes closed as he focused on staying upright.

“Wulfric?” Scarlet’s voice was soft, grounding him in the present. “What’s wrong?”

How quickly she went from cold and distant to concern for him.

He blinked in the blinding sunlight falling through the trees. The images and rushing in his ears faded as her small hand settled on his bare forearm. He looked down into green eyes so deep, he could drown in them.

His hands settled on her elbows, afraid to pull her close but needing to touch her, needing to be reminded of life. She was real, warm, and vivacious. She was more than just a beautiful woman in the right place at the right time; she was a lifeline, grounding him in his humanity and easing the ache in his chest caused by painful memories.

The past was easier to face in her presence.

He blinked as a bird flew overhead, a robin trilling softly and breaking the hold of the past. Even with the sun shining, snow began to fall softly, already forming a crown on the red hair piled high between her antlers.

“Talk to me, wolfie. What’s going on in that big brain of yours?” Her voice was softer than it’d been earlier. When they’d been packing, she’d been tense and jumpy.

But now, with those green eyes staring at him with worry and tenderness… maybe there was hope for them yet.

He raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to talk about it.”

She arched a brow but didn’t say anything. So he took a deep breath. He had to trust her, talk with her, let her in. It was the only way to win her affections and convince her to complete the mate bond.

“Growlers don’t remember our lives before we were turned, but I do now.” His voice was harsh and deep.

“What do you mean?” she asked, shivering in her thick, fur-lined red and green hood as she reached for one of the two bags on the ground.

He licked his lips and swallowed, trying to choke out the words to explain. He wanted her to understand him, to bare his heart and soul to her, but damn if it wasn’t hard to do.

Wulfric grabbed both bags and slung them over his shoulders. “Let me carry them. We need to get moving before we freeze where we stand.”

She pursed her lips and nodded. “Very well. We can take the path to the Lone Road. Can you find your way from there?”

With a nod, he wiggled his toes in the boots. They were uncomfortable, but he was trying to adjust to living like a human for her sake. “The Lone Road is the boundary of our territory, so yes. I can find the way. If we push ourselves, we should reach camp by tomorrow night.”

Her brows rose as she stepped back, pulling gloves out of her pocket. “So close? I thought they were several days away.”

He shrugged. “Depends on the time of year. This month, we’re in the most northern camp.”

Adjusting the green shirt again, he led the way out of the clearing and into the woods. The grass crunched under their feet, breaking the silence around them. Each step pinched his toes in the too tight boots, and he had to consciously make sure his feet stayed shifted into human ones. They left the birds behind and even the rustling of small game grew fainter the deeper they traveled along a faint path.

“I’m here when you’re ready to talk about the memory thing,” she said as she led him along the path.

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