Page 40 of The Broken Aztec Princesses

“Hey. No. Come on. I’m okay. It was a scratch. You were defending yourself. It’s something to be proud of.”

A bubble of hysterical laughter left my throat. It got lodged in my throat as a sob collided with it and I started coughing— choking. he pulled me up to a sitting position, using his big hand to pat my back.

“You think it’s okay to hurt you?” I asked when I calmed down.

“You tried to protect yourself from an attacker. That’s always something to be proud of.”

“Except, I hurt the only person that can protect me here.”

“You can protect yourself. You have a shield and you have a wolf,” He said, finally sitting down on the bed next to me.

“My shield hasn’t worked since that night, and Nenetl can’t shift anymore,” I told him quietly.

No one knew. There hadn’t been any opportunity where I was comfortable to do either thing in public or in a situation where it was required, but I tried.

My shield stuttered and failed anytime I tried to bring it forth, and when I tried to shift, Nenetl passed out. My claws had been the only part of my body that shifted. I’d tried a few times since then, but the most I was able to do was shift my snout. Each time, Nenetl passed out and slept for days. Outside of having my enhanced senses, healing half as fast as I used to, and still seeing Nenetl in the back of my head, I may as well be human.

“Your power is connected to your wolf?” He asked.

“No.”

“But it hasn’t worked since...”

“Since it failed the day of the mall.”

“It didn’t fail.”

“But it wasn’t enough.”

“So, it’s a mental block,” he mentioned. I nodded. That’s what Dr. Campbell said anyway. “And Nenetl can’t or won’t shift?”

I shrugged.

"I don’t know. She doesn’t talk to me.”

“At all?”

“She said a couple of words a few days ago. Dr. Campbell said she’s dealing with her own trauma.”

“That’s good, then. It means she’s getting stronger.”

“Maybe.”

We sat in silence for a while. I always used to hate silence, but it was comfortable to just sit here with him.

“Do you want to learn to fight?” he asked into the silence.

“What?”

“I can teach you to fight. You don’t feel safe because you couldn’t defend yourself.”

“Look at me, Chris. Do I look like a fighter?”

“Anyone can be a fighter, Violet.”

He stood up and walked back toward the connecting door. It was the first time I noticed he was only wearing a pair of pajama pants.

“A tiny fighter, but you would be a fighter, anyway,” he added at the door.

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