Page 7 of Protected By the Wolven

“Happy to help.” He shifts his weight, looking a bit unsure of what to do next. “So, uh, breakfast? Let me make you something.”

“Oh, you don’t have to go to any trouble…”

“No trouble at all,” he assures me, striding to the tiny kitchen. “We wolven males pride ourselves on providing for females. Especially honored guests.”

I follow and perch on a stool, watching as he expertly cracks eggs into a bowl. “Really? I know nothing about your culture.”

“Oh yeah, it’s a whole thing.” Lash chuckles. “Gotta impress with our culinary skills. My adoptive mother always used to say—” He imitates her accent, as he continues, “You must learn to cook for the voman you vill mate.”

We both laugh. Is he as aware as I am that his adoptive mother and I have similar accents?

“Does it vork?” Maybe it’s because of him mimicking his mother that I allow my accent to thicken.

We learned English in school. When things got bad in Ukraine, I dreamed of moving to America, to find love, safety, security, and a new life. When I discovered a website that connected me to men in America seeking relationships, I worked hard to improve my English. I’ve discovered when I’m really stressed, the accent and broken English break through, like it did last night when Lash discovered me.

“Well, I’m still single, if that tells you anything.” He shrugs and his lips quirk into a lopsided grin. How can someone so fierce look so adorable at the same time?

Soon, the small space is filled with the delicious aroma of cooking eggs, veggies, and cheese. Lash slides a perfect omelet onto a plate and hands it to me with a flourish.

“Voila! One wolven special. Tell me if it’s good enough to make my mother proud.”

“It looks amazing,” I tell him sincerely. “Thank you.”

We dig in and the earlier awkwardness melts away as we chat easily over the delicious meal. Lash regales me with funny stories about life in the Zone and I laugh more than I have in ages.

I continue to chuckle at Lash’s entertaining tales, feeling the weight lift from my shoulders with each passing minute. As our laughter fades, Lash’s expression turns more serious.

“Zoya, I know this isn’t easy, but we need to document your injuries. It could be important for your case later on.”

I tense, my gaze dropping to my empty plate. “I know, but…”

Lash reaches across the table and gently touches my hand. “Hey, it’s okay. I have a friend, Marissa. She’s human and runs the medical clinic here in the Zone. She’s also married to Brokka, our fire chief. I think you’d feel comfortable with her. What if I give her a call and see if she can come over to take the photos?”

I chew on my bottom lip, considering his suggestion. The thought of exposing myself and explaining my problems toanother living soul makes me uneasy. But Lash’s reassuring presence and the kind way he describes Marissa ease my fears.

“You trust her?” I ask softly, meeting his eyes.

“Completely,” Lash affirms without hesitation. “She’s helped a lot of people in the Zone. And I’ll be right here the whole time if you need me.”

I take a deep breath and nod. “Okay. If you think it’s best, let’s do it.”

Lash squeezes my hand. “I’m proud of you. This is a brave step. I’ll give Marissa a call and see when she can come by.”

As he steps away to make the call, I wrap my arms around myself, trying to mentally prepare for the next step on my journey to freedom.

Chapter Seven

Lash

Marissa is a gentle, no-nonsense nurse who’s done wonders for the clinic here in the Zone. It had been a pit, staffed by humans who were siphoning pain drugs and reselling them even as they provided sub-par care for their patients. She didn’t hesitate a minute before hurrying to my apartment.

Although I tried to leave the room so the two women could talk, Zoya begged me to stay. I keep my back turned while Marissa takes pictures, but my blood boils as I hear every word.

“This won’t take but a few moments, Zoya. Could you lift your left arm so I can get a picture of the bruise on your ribs?”

My vision goes hazy as I picture choking Max.

“And turn around so I can get the… oh my god, is that afootprint?… on your bottom.”

---