Page 99 of Ravaged Wolf
“Okay,” he agrees, politely not pointing out that maybe I’m talking a little more to myself than to him. He rises to his feet and helps me up. “You ready?”
I nod firmly. I am not. Not even a little. But I trust him. He won’t let anything bad happen.
I let him lead me onward and focus on calming myself down. It’s impossible. I take deep breaths, but my body instantly undoes the effects with hot flashes and adrenaline spikes. This heat is coming on hard. The world takes on a hazy cast, and my brain buzzes.
It’d be pure misery except Trevor smellsamazing. Better than ever. I drag his scent into my lungs, and itunfurlsinsideme. He is the most beautiful male I’ve ever seen. He strides through the underbrush like a pagan forest god, his wheat gold hair tousled by the breeze. There should be music set to his walk, and it should be in slow motion.
My bite mark peeks from the collar of his shirt. I want to bite him again. My mouth waters.
“Trevor,” I whine.
“Almost there,” he says. We’re coming up on a path to the den, heading in the opposite direction as our cabin.
“Trevor, we’re going the wrong way.”
“Trust me, sweetness.” He pulls me closer and wraps an arm around my waist so he’s helping me along rather than guiding me. More of his scent bathes me, and my blood pumps a little less furiously.
We get to the den a few minutes later. The commons have cleared except for a few drunk packmates passed out under the trees. It’s dinner time, and a feast has been prepared to celebrate Aled and Gracie’s mating. The smell of roasting pork turns my stomach.
“I’m not hungry,” I tell Trevor, stalling at the den entrance. I also don’t want to be around the pack. I need these clothes off. They’re sticking to me like wet leaves.
“I know. I just need to get a few things. We’ll leave as soon as we can.”
As soon as we get inside, I need to get out. There is too much noise, too many people, too much movement. I cling to Trevor. He holds me close, his hand firmly on the small of my back.
His mother must’ve been watching out for us because she meets us near the entrance. “Have you seen your brother and his—” She cuts herself off when she realizes the state I’m in. “Oh. Oh, dear. Oh, wow.” She goes from shock to concern to grandmotherly delight in five words. “This is so wonderful! Aled and Gracie, and now you two—”
“Mom, I need your help,” Trevor interrupts. “I need blankets.”
“Oh. Oh, yes.” Arlais squeezes my forearm. “I’m so sorry, love. I thought I had time. Oh, I’m kicking myself.”
I want to tell her not to worry, but my brain is sludge, and nothing moves quickly enough to reach my mouth before Trevor says, “No worries, Mom, but do you have some blankets we can borrow?”
“Of course. Yes! You two stay here. Oh, you must be miserable, poor thing.” Arlais pats me a few more times before she hurries off toward the tunnel leading to the den where they’ve been staying while Trevor and his brothers finish up their new cabin.
Trevor tucks me against his chest. It helps block out the jarring sounds and awful smells. “Not much longer,” he murmurs in my ear. “I’ll take you home, and you’ll make your nest, and then I’ll make you feel better, and everything will be fine. I promise.” He speaks with complete, unshakeable certainty. I can only feel his fear in the bond.
I’m not sure how much time passes before Arlais returns with two patchwork quilts. Trevor thanks her, and I manage to smile, as he steers me toward the exit, but before we get far, Nia calls from across the den, “Trevor! Izzy! Hold up!”
She jogs the rest of the way. She has a crocheted blanket thrown over her shoulder. She thrusts it at Trevor. “Here you go, you crazy kids.”
“Thank you,” I manage. My voice is so husky and dry that I sound like a frog.
We aren’t even able to turn before our names are called again. “Trevor and Izzy! Wait, wait!”
Drona’s girls are racing across the den with Drona in their wake. Drona has a pillow under each arm. She stacks them in Trevor’s arms and smacks a kiss on my forehead. “Fate’s blessings,” she says, fading back as Rosie takes her place.
She adds a blanket to the collection, squeezes my hand, and repeats, “Fate’s blessings.”
A line forms behind her. Rosie snaps open a sheet and helps Trevor pile the pack females’ offering in the middle. Arly, Rae, Mina, Dru, Madwen and a dozen other females share a sheet or scarf or handkerchief—or when Trevor can’t possibly carry any more—they give their blessings.
Enid rests a wreath of pink roses, yarrow, and goldenrod on my head. She’s woven blue jay feathers into the crown and pinned an origami crane to the front as a diadem.
Flora helps Granddad over. He kisses my forehead, and Trevor’s wolf growls. Granddad cracks up, cawing, “Tell your wolf I’m no threat, pup, although sixty years ago it would’ve been a different story, make no mistake.”
Flora reassures us that she’ll help Granddad to the elder cabin after dinner, and Pritchard helps Trevor hoist our pack of blankets over his shoulder. He looks like the humans’ Santa Claus.
Arlais darts forward to hug us both before we leave. Macsen hangs back, respecting Trevor’s wolf’s low, persistent rumble, but he raises a hand in farewell, his crinkly eyes smiling.
