Page 18 of Empowering the Wolf's Heart

I turned, keeping my eye on the werewolf washing his hands in the river. His broad back and towering figure weren’t quite as intimidating when he was crouched down, though I saw the tension in his shoulders, the way he was ready to pounce at any moment. It reminded me that he was still dangerous even if he didn’tlookdangerous. And that was perhaps even more terrifying.

I blinked. Then blinked again. But no, it was still there. White, goose-down fletching was sticking out from his back, the arrow broken at a ninety-degree angle where I guessed he’d rolled on it.

I sucked in a sharp breath. I shuffled over and grabbed his arm and then I sensed it. A vast need so deep it nearly consumed me. A begging, a wanting, a needing… Before I’d fully sensed it, he shrugged me off, not taking his eyes from scanning the surroundings.

I swallowed, kneading my hand on one of my daggers. “Why?” I whispered, my mind begging the question I’d had ever since he rescued me—at cost to himself. He could have been free of me. He’d nearly killed me multiple times. I’dstabbedhim, for goodness sake. And now this? It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.

He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes meeting mine. The mask fell for a split second, and beneath it was something I knew innately. Sorrow.

“I am a werewolf,” he said, feeling around behind him for the arrow. He couldn’t quite reach it and let out a frustrated grunt.

The arrow was close to his spine. A few inches more and he’d be paralyzed. I didn’t know if a werewolf could heal from that. I’d never personally done such a thing. I just killed werewolves. I didn’t try to scar them for life.

I huffed out a breath, about to ask what he meant, but his hand searching for the arrow was frustrating the heck out of me.

I touched his hand. “Let me.”

He froze, his eyes tracking me from over his shoulder as I touched the splintered end of the arrow. My knife made quick work of notching the arrow closer to his skin to prevent further splinters. I snapped the arrow with a quick movement, the sharp sound making him flinch. I felt around the arrowhead, grimacing when my hands came away red. But then his soul opened once more, and I tried to push away the massiveneedscreaming at me. I needed to find his otherneed, the lesser one—there. His bodyneededthe arrow out so it could heal, but it alsoneededthe poisonous wolfsbane out of its system and lots of liver and heart and water to resupply his blood from the stab wound. I grimaced again. It was my fault. He’d be home right now if not for me, and it was all for naught. I knew by now Hood wasn’t coming.

I couldn’t get the poison out of his system, but if I got the arrow out, he’d live.

“What made you do this?” I asked, standing and rummaging in my saddlebags.

“Do what exactly?”

I came back, sitting cross-legged behind him as I grabbed the shaft of the arrow.

“Are you purposefully obtuse?” I asked, biting my lip as I worked.

His eyes crinkled in a tiny smile that made the gold flakes twinkle in the darkness. “I am a werewolf,” he said. I almost twisted the arrow inside him for stating the obvious again, but he continued. “I would survive. You are human. You would not.”

“I was doing just fine without your help, cur,” I said, minus the heat.

I waited until he released his breath and opened his mouth to reply before I pulled. The arrow ripped from his skin, and I immediately pressed the makeshift bandage to the hole. He didn’t say a word, but his breathing did hitch. So, he felt pain after all. I was beginning to wonder.

“Of course you were fine. You were merely the brightest fish flopping around on the most pristine palace waiting for the cook to catch up.”

I blinked at him. His eyes were dulled with a hint of pain, but they also danced with mischief. “At least I’m not a werewolf who let himself be kidnapped," I replied.

His brow rose. “Let myself? You were quite determined and prepared. A few guards will be punished?—”

“Hey, don’t punish the guys who were knocked out.”

The brow rose further, the white hair in the center feathering into the dark edges. Were his eyebrows somehow flexible? “Do not punish the guards who did not do their jobs?”

Well, when he put it that way… My cheeks grew hot.

I took my hand away, and when I wiped the area, there was only a small amount of blood coming from the small hole. I could stitch it, but I didn’t think he’d need that. He’d heal completely within a day. I coughed, backing away from his broad back. He rubbed his hands together and turned to face me. His eyes searched my face, as if looking for an answer he wasn’t sure he wanted to find.

I needed to be rid of him and all the weird thoughts he was putting in my head. He was likely a manipulative dragon’s fenbutt, just like Grandma always told me. She was right, trusting anyone was dangerous. Especially werewolves.

But as I stared into his eyes, I saw something terrifying within those depths. Understanding. I didn’t need to be understood. I was fine as I was. I just needed to kill Hood and take my place as heir apparent.

"The white werewolf with the black-tipped tail… you know, the one you were playing with before I…”

"Kidnapped me?"

"Yeah, that. She's sick."

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