Page 59 of Craved By a Wolf

But instead, all he could do was wallow and think of Hella.

What had she done to him?

Gregor grunted as he sat down beside him, close enough that his arm brushed against Kin’s, and said, “Play the fiddle, love.”

The joyful sound of it filled the tense silence and Kin felt everyone’s gaze leaving him. Except for Gregor’s. The big blond male slapped a hand down on Kin’s back, jerking him forwards.

“You need to eat something.”

“What’s the point?” Kin grumbled, because he had no appetite for anything now. The meat on the grill would have tempted him once, and he would have been there with Donald, tending to it and salivating while waiting for it to cook, sharing a laugh and a whisky. He huffed and stared at his untouched drink. “I’m no’ hungry.”

“Aye, you are hungry, just no’ for meat.” Gregor’s voice gained an amused note that sounded forced and didn’t cover the worry Kin could hear in his words. “Or maybe it is meat ye be hungry for, but the tender flesh of a certain witch.”

“She’s no’ meat,” he growled and rolled his shoulder to shirk Gregor’s touch.

He angled his head towards the male and glared into his blue eyes. His anger deflated when he saw the concern shining in them, and the despair, and he looked away from his second in command as his stomach churned. Gregor had been working hard to hold him together over the weeks, had gone several times to the fae town when that desperation to take care of his alpha had become too strong, and Kin knew he had tried to find the one who had cursed him.

The last time he had tried and failed, he had returned and asked Kin to tell him where Hella lived.

Kin had turned on him and driven him out of his home, and had put him in his place, much to the horror of his pack.

It was the first time he had noticed he was no longer the same male.

He was darker without Hella, quick to anger and lash out at anyone, even those who only meant to help him. He was lost. His wolf side constantly howled for his mate, clawed at his insides and left him feeling hollow and raw, a shadow of his former self. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t sleep. He was wasting away.

Just as the redhead had told him he would.

Only he wasn’t sure whether it was because of the curse.

Or because he had realised something over the few days between leaving Hella and his shackles falling off.

He had feelings for her.

Strong feelings.

The thing that had broken when the restraints had dropped off his wrists was somewhere in the region of his chest.

And it hurt. It burned. It howled for her as fiercely as his wolf did. It ached for her to forgive him.

To come to him.

“Impossible,” he muttered, ignoring the look Gregor gave him, the one that his friend often wore these days.

It questioned his sanity.

Kin wasn’t sure he was sane anymore. He hadn’t been sane from the moment he had set eyes on Hella, and the madness was only spreading. It wouldn’t stop until he saw her again, but what good would come of that?

She didn’t want him.

She truly believed he wanted to own her.

Own.

He buried his head in his hand again as he saw a flash of how she had looked at him when she had hit a very painful nail on its head and driven it right into his chest. Pity. She had pitied him because he had been owned once.

She saw it as a weakness, a point in his life that had defined him, when she was wrong.

It had been his beginning.

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