Page 97 of Ravaged Wolf
And then she told me—gently, carefully, with tears flowing down her face—about that night. How Trevor ran to the High Rise roof, and how she told him to listen to the bond and then dragged him back from the edge with her fangs.
I knew her well enough by then that I knew she wasn’t trying to make me feel bad. She told me because she knows I love him as much as she does, and the only way to exorcise a pain like this is to put it into words for someone who truly understands to hear them.
And also, maybe, even though nothing like that will ever happen again, she needs me to know. Just in case. Because now I’m the one who checks to see if he’s still breathing in the middle of the night, terrified by the sheer joy of loving him.
I asked her hard questions. She told me hard things to hear. My mother told me hard things all the time, but I understand now that she enjoyed it. It was gratifying to her to have someone in the house to dominate. No matter how Dad treated her, she wasn’t the bottom of the barrel in the house.
During our hard talk, Arlais and I wept together, and then we made a pot of tea, and she dug out a package of Oreos that Macsen had brought her, which she’d beenhiding from her sons. I took out the bag of Milano cookies that Trevor brought me.
We’re building a new life here. There’s room for sadness and grief, but it’s not the center of things. We don’t let it be.
On the grass in front of us, the music rises to a crescendo, and then the players collapse on their backs, calling for beer. Aled swoops in to claim his mate as the dancers disperse. Trevor makes his way over to me. His bare chest glistens in the sunshine as the breeze tugs his curls. My belly twists. He’s the most handsome male I’ve ever seen, and he’s mine.
When he arrives at our blanket, he shrugs back into his shirt and holds out his hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“Not even a hello for your mother?” Arlais teases. He bends to plant a wet kiss on her cheek.
“Sorry, Mom. Hi, Mom.” He grins, and Arlais can’t even pretend to be miffed.
I take his hand, and he pulls me to my feet.
“Oh, hold on. One second. I keep forgetting—” Arlais rummages in her sewing bag and pulls out a delicately knit blue-gray scrap of fabric. “Help me up.” Trevor helps her to her feet, too.
She smooths the fabric into a triangle and lays it gently over my hair, tying its strings behind my neck. It’s a headscarf, and it’s lovely.
“Don’t think I don’t know that I owe you a mating basket,” she says to me. “But I’m playing catch up at the moment, so I made you this for now.” She squeezes my shoulders. Her eyes are shining. “Thank you for loving my son.”
“It’s easy,” I say, surprised at how true the words feel. It’s also been hard as hell, but the one doesn’t cancel the other out.
“Come on,” Trevor says, tugging me away.
“Thank you!” I call to Arlais as he leads me into the woods.
We dash through the brush until the sound of the crowd fades, and then we slow to a stroll.
“Did Gracie wear you out dancing?” I tease him.
“I’ve got plenty of energy left, mate,” he says, grinning. “Want to race me back to the cabin?”
“Everyone will wonder where we’ve gone.”
“Oh, they’ll know.”
“What about Granddad?”
“He’ll know, too.”
His eyes twinkle. I’m about to tell him yes when a shriek rends the air. Gracie barrels through the trees two yards away. Aled chases on her heels.
My heart stops.
Trevor’s spine snaps straight.
I run.
I trip on nothing.
He’s on me.
