Page 23 of Empowering the Wolf's Heart

There was no movement of broken bones when I pressed against the bruises, but it seemed she had hit more rocks and debris than I had wanted, regardless of how I’d tried to shield her from the worst of it.

There were also other things—a gash where the skin still had holes from where it had been stitched, a few bruises just fading with time, and much older scars that littered her body. A rope-like scar near her kidney I believe she had somehow stitched herself because it had healed less straight than the other scar on her shoulder. When stitched unevenly, the skin healed with pockmarks and divots instead of the smoother scars done with an even hand.

The burn wounds were the most numerous. They had seared over even the small slices that were nothing more than a parting of skin—also a tactic of torture.

I knew the only thing she needed now was my body heat, but I could not bring myself to wrap her in my arms.

She was terrified of me—and for good reason. More than that, I wondered if there was something deeper. Another pain.Some other reason why touch terrified her worse than me attacking her with a knife.

And if so, my soul cracked, and emotions I had not felt in a very long time emerged from the buried depths of my mind. The urge to kill hit me with the force of a tsunami. But I had nothing to kill as I knew not who had done this.

I would find out. And when I did, not even Sixth could save them from my wrath.

Lycus would not be contained. He raged against the confines of my mind with such fervency it nearly caused me to throw myself into the nearest wall just to placate him.

That would not stop him, though. He needed to be unleashed. I gave in to his wish. The shift pulled at my skin and the still-healing bruises and where I suspected I had at least cracked my shin, if not broken it. But the ache was good. It chased away the rage until the red tinting my vision faded.

With a single shake of our woven body to get settled, Lycus padded over to the little Red who had saved us. She was curled up into a tight ball.

The Red’s eyes opened, and she stared at us. We froze. But then I realized she was lookingthroughus.

“Help them,” she whispered. Her eyes closed again, and I realized she had not been fully awake, and yet she was begging me to save someone.

We licked her nose which she had twisted up. Lycus huffed out an amused breath when she wiggled it like a rabbit. He laid down beside her as close as he could without startling her, and rested his head on his paws with his back to her.

Her shivering body trembled; she was so very small and vulnerable. Then she turned and, with a strength that belied her little body, wrapped her arms as far as she could around us.

Lycus did not dare move and held still as a mouse caught beneath a werecat.

Her shivering slowly abated and a gentle sigh escaped her lips. Our muscles slowly unclenched, and for the first time in a very long time, the aches of my body eased and my need to be around a pack of my own abated.

I would let her clothing dry and then put it back on her, hopefully before she woke. She would be none the wiser that any of this occurred.

CHAPTER 8

Common Goals Makes Allies

ALIA

Icoughed, my lungs burning as if I’d snuffed ale. My mind was foggier than a dragon’s nostrils, but I remembered warmth. I had been so cold, dreaming of death and black wolves, but then I was warm and I’d felt… safe.

When I tried to sit up, a hand gently pressed me back. Though I didn’t have the energy to fight, my hand reached for a blade, but neither of them were there. My mind froze, my heart fluttering with panic. I could move my hands and wasn’t tied, so I wasn’t a captive, but where…

“Easy, Little Red,” said a voice. I tried to open my eyes to see who was speaking, but they weren’t listening. “You are safe.”

A whimper met my ears before a wet nose bumped against my cheek and then a warm little body snuggled into the place where my neck met my collarbone. The panic subsided marginally.

My eyes finally pulled themselves open, and I blinked to clear my vision. “You?” I whispered, my lips dry and cracking.

“Me,” he said, a slight smile crossing his face. He looked exhausted. He was covered in bruises and scrapes, but he was alive. And so was the pup.

I didn’t know how to feel about that. I’d stabbed him and would’ve killed him happily in any other set of circumstances, but now here we were. I’d saved his life, and he’d saved mine.

I reached up a limp hand and placed it on the puppy’s warm body, sighing with relief. But how wasIalive?

“You should not have done that,” he said at last, his eyes so serious and so... hurt?

“What? Save your freakin’ butts?” I whisper-hissed, though it sounded more like a croak than anything else. Man, I was tired.

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