Page 24 of Song of the Dark Wood

“Fine,” she sighed. “It’s not an honor. It’s a curse that’s plagued my whole life and robbed me of one of the few people I love. I’m not usually a liar. Only when I’m confronted with death himself.”

The corners of the Wolf’s lips twitched. “That’s more like it.”

“Do you look like this to everyone?”

“What do you mean?” the Wolf asked.

Rowan waved a hand at him.

“Yes, why?”

“I just thought—” Shejust thoughtOrla would have mentioned that he wasn’t monstrous—that he was one of the most handsome men she’d ever laid eyes on.Most handsome god, she reminded herself.He could wipe you out with a flick of his hand.

“You thought I was simply appearing in a form you’d find appealing?” Mischief lit his eyes. “While I’m happy you approve, Rowan, I look this way to everyone, though I have another form that might be closer to what you were expecting. Something that mimics the worst fear of the beholder. Would you like to see it?”

Rowan shook her head mutely. She most certainly would not. She yanked her gaze away from his, feeling as though she had left part of herself behind in its snare.

“Did Orla make it?” Rowan asked.

The Wolf swallowed hard. “Yes, she crossed over. She’ll be fine now. It was brave of you to come into the woods after what happened.”

“Or perhaps foolish,” Rowan said.

“That too.”

Rowan shivered. The icy ground beneath her bare knees made it harder and harder to focus on anything but how cold she felt.

“You should come inside,” the Wolf said. He reached out a hand, and she flinched. “I’m helping you up. You’re very jumpy.”

“I wonder why,” Rowan muttered as she placed her hand in his.

She was shocked by the heat of his skin. Perhaps it was the chill of the night, but she swore his skin was nearly hot enough to burn. She stood slowly, allowing her stiff joints to move again.

“You’re freezing. Let’s get you inside,” the Wolf said, guiding her through the gates.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye. Rowan was slightly taller than most women in Ballybrine, but the Wolf still towered over her and his strength was clear in the corded muscle that hardened beneath her hand on his arm. He looked fully human, but there was a deep stillness about him that rang of magic, though it didn’t feel evil like she’d expected. In fact, the silence of his magic felt calming to Rowan.

He led her through several ancient-looking stone arches and up a set of stairs to a great wooden door. The entryway was so dim that Rowan couldn’t make out much, except that the wing to the right appeared to be a black hole of darkness.

The Wolf guided her to the left, into a sitting room with a large, intricately carved stone fireplace blazing with a roaring fire. Silver moonlight sliced through large glass windows, casting shadows on the stone floor and expensive-looking carpet. A dark mantel covered in a collection of wood carvings—all various renditions of wolves—framed the fireplace.

Rowan took it all in as she tried to stop her knees from trembling. She turned slowly, surveying the entire room, trying to search for exits discreetly.

The Wolf caught the way her eyes lingered on the door on the far side of the room a second too long.

“You can relax. I won’t hurt you,” he said.

Rowan cocked her head.

“I know you have no reason to believe me, but if I kill you, who would bring me souls?”

Her anger rushed to the surface. “I don’t know. That problem didn’t stop you from killing Orla.”

The Wolf’s eyes narrowed on her, and he ground his teeth.

Rowan froze in place, fear locking up all of her muscles. “I’d like you to change the bargain you have with the Mother,” she blurted.

The Wolf raised his eyebrows. “You think you know better than two centuries-old gods?”

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