Page 66 of Empowering the Wolf's Heart

“I am darkness, Alia. And you are light, despite all you have been through.”

“Sometimes darkness is just how we look at things. Sometimes it’s the darkness which allows you to see the stars that can guide you home.” My voice was wistful, nearly longing. I snuggled Fenbutt closer, burying my nose in his fur.

“Do you need a hug?” he asked abruptly.

My chin jerked up and I stared at him.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “It might be an idiotic offer… yet you do much for others. I am here, and you do not seem to mind being around me?” His voice was so hesitant, unsure. So unlike him.

He raised his arm, and I slid beneath it.

“Werewolves gather in packs not only for safety but because we need others.”

I leaned my head against his chest and listened to his heart. There was a power in his body that I knew could be used to break me. However, it was the power of his words over me that terrified me.

“There is safety in numbers, yes. But more than this, there is connection. There is family. There is freedom.”

“What about when your pack is sick?” I whispered.

He sighed. “When a werewolf’s pack is sick, he cares for them but leans on another, stronger werewolf. We all need support, even the strongest of us all.”

My shoulders quaked. My soul quavered at the understanding in his voice. “Who is there for you?”

“Doc and his mate,” he said, and I heard the smile in his voice. He leaned closer to whisper, “Who is there for you?”

I couldn’t answer for the lump gathering in the back of my throat. Mom and Dad would’ve loved to be there for me, and in many ways, they were. But with Anna sick and them caring for two toddlers at their age when they should be out traveling or enjoying their retirement, they couldn’t bear my burdens and theirs.

“Me,” I said at last.

He breathed out, his heart slowing. “I understand.” He froze, his muscles going rigid. “I smell… blood.”

I didn’t want to move, but he leaned down and his nostrils flared. His eyes took a distinctly red hue. He moved Fenbutt so the puppy lay against my chest so he could get to my arm.

Shen grabbed my wrist, and at my sharp intake of breath, he released me as if I’d burned him. A low rumble spread through his chest, and his eyes swirled with flecks of red and gold glittering in the dark abyss like embers dancing in a night sky. He gently untied my bracer. His pulse pounded in the veins at his neck. I remained still as he gently eased the bracer from my arm.

When he saw the bandage where blood had already shown through, he unleashed a growl that made me jump at the promise of death.

“Forgive me. It is just… May I?” he asked. I nodded, unsure what else to do. There was anguish on his face. He unwrapped the rolls and carefully peeled off the red-stained bandage.

When he saw the wound itself, he just… stopped. His breathing, his movement—I had never seen someone become a living statue. He closed his eyes, his breath returning in such a ragged gasp that I knew he was fighting against…something.

“Who… did this to you?” His whisper was a ragged sound torn from the depths of his chest. His eyes opened and again, he stared at the mark carved into my wrist.

The Mark of Dishonor. A shape carved into my skin and designed to resemble a spider lily, with six curling petals inside eight reaching legs. The cut encompassed my entire wrist and trailed halfway around my arm. It was red and raised and still wept blood and discharge. The blade used wasn’t serrated, so it sliced but didn’t tear the skin. A small mercy.

I numbly shook my head, reaching to hide it from him, but he gently moved my other hand away, his eyebrows furrowed. “It was just a punishment…”

His growl threaded through my bones and shook my soul. “Who? Why?”

“I–it was my fault. I–I failed.” Did Shen know his best friend was Hood? I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t want him to think Fen was to blame. I had let him go of my own will, and I would take whatever punishment came because of that decision.

Shen’s eyes rose from my wrist to my face. He set a hand on my cheek, his eyes meeting mine. I sucked in a sharp breath at the death sworn by his eyes so red it seemed as if they were bleeding. “I will only ask once more, Little Red.” His voice darkened with promise. “Who. Did. This?”

“Grandma,” I said, my lips parting and mouthing her name even if it was a mere whisper.

“Tell me why I should not kill her.”

A shiver ran through his body as his forehead grew a soft, downy fur that lay against my skin.

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