Page 44 of The Wolf

Brine was unconscious but still breathing.

Next, she ran her fingers along the back of his head. Relief filled her. There were no bumps or cuts or any other signs that he might have a concussion. So she pulled him farther up the beach, beneath the circle of protective rocks and out of sight.

Shivers wracked her body and she rubbed her hands along her arms.

What was she supposed to do now?

She stared down at the wolf and something in her stomach flipped. He’d been a cute boy when she was a child, but Brine had turned into a handsome man, Her eyes narrowed in disbelief and disgust. Even now, covered in soot and ash and smeared in blood, he was a striking figure. Brine possessed finer features than his uncle but raw masculinity radiated from him.

When Scarlet realized her hand was hovering inches away from stroking Brine’s chin, she snapped it back to her chest and stood up.

She didn’t have time for this.

Couldneverhave time for this.

Brine had been Scarlet’s one ray of sunshine when she was little girl.

He left you.

She forced herself to take a step away from her childhood crush. Scarlet couldn’t afford to let herself be swayed by childish feelings. Brine was no one to her. Not anymore.

Scarlet limped away on jittery, leaden legs to jump back onto the dock proper to head back to the Siren’s Song. She paused and looked over her shoulder at the unconscious wolf she left behind. He looked too vulnerable.

Send Ari to check on him, but leave now.

She turned her back on Brine and walked away.

He was nothing but heartache and trouble.

Scarlet had enough of that in her life already.

Then why was her heart squeezing painfully at the thought of leaving him behind?

TWENTY

BRINE

There was salt. There was cold. There was water. But there was also smoke and blood and fire. There were explosions in his ears but also the deafening noise of nothing at all. He was falling, falling, falling, but he wasn’t alone. Because there was also the smell of ginger, and peaches, and the warmth of another body clinging to him, trusting him to stay safe.

Then that warmth was gone, along with the water and the salt and the explosions, but everything else remained.

And then there was light.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Brine sat up with a start and immediately fell onto his back. His entire body was in agony.

“Hey there,” the familiar voice said. Brine fought through his sluggish brain to work out where he’d heard it. “You hurt your leg pretty bad, but it looks like someone’s reset it for you. Might just be a fracture. If you get some mimkia on it, it’ll heal in no time, but don’t go running a marathon tonight.”

It took him much too long to realize who had been speaking. His memory was so broken. But it was coming back in slivers, in tatters, and eventually the voice rang true in Brine’s ears.

Chesh. Of course it was Chesh. Brine had been on board his grandmother’s ship, rigging it to explode into a million tiny pieces. Everything had been going to plan, but then…

“Where—?” Brine coughed violently, curling onto his side to spit out deathly salty seawater intermingled with blood. He had never felt so rough, not even when he’d been helping Tempest escape Dotae with Briggs and what felt like a thousand city guards had been after them. As his vision grew clearer, he saw Chesh standing by the edge of the surf, tossing bits of torn-up fish into the water without a care in the world. The cat straightened when he felt Brine’s gaze on him, picking up on Brine’s anxiety when he realized that he was not the person the wolf had expected to be standing there.

“What’s wrong?” Chesh asked, genuine concern on his sly face.

It took all of Brine’s strength to mutter, “Red.”

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