Page 9 of Ethan
Dean exhaled sharply, his body sagging back into the pillows.
Relief and exhaustion warred on his face, and I found myself studying him, an unwelcome pang of sympathy blooming in my chest.
Cooper turned to me, voice brisk. “When he’s ready, show him to his room. I’ll have it prepared.”
I nodded, watching as Cooper left without another word.
Dean lay there, arm draped over his eyes. For a moment, neither of us spoke.
The silence stretched until I finally broke it. “Why do you want to train as an enforcer here anyway?”
He shifted slightly, slow and tired. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” he said, words heavy with weariness. “Being in a pack like Thornebane. Things might be a little better now with Carter, but…” He trailed off, exhaustion palpable.
I stared at him, jaw tightening. “I know exactly what that’s like,” I said, voice sharper than I intended.
The memories of Ryder’s reign crept back, pressing against my chest.
I pushed them aside and turned toward the metal tray holding the bandages and supplies, the instruments clinking softly as I cleared them.
When I looked back, Dean hadn’t moved. His arm still covered his eyes, but a faint, tired smile tugged at his lips.
“I’m just glad I made it,” he mumbled, so softly I almost didn’t catch it.
A flicker of something I couldn’t quite name stirred in my chest.
Relief? Maybe even a sliver of happiness for him. But I quickly dismissed the idea, irritated at the realization that I’d be seeing more of him.
Still, even as I grabbed the tray and moved toward the door, I found my gaze lingering on him, just a second longer than necessary.
Chapter 3
Dean
Later that evening,I lay in the unfamiliar bed assigned to me, staring up at the wooden ceiling beams. The room smelled like clean linen, old pine, and a faint trace of herbs.
Probably something the last person burned to relax. I didn’t bother turning on the lamp. The dusk filtering in through the curtains was enough.
My whole body ached. Every muscle felt bruised and strained, from my ribs to my jaw to the knuckles that had taken the worst of Griffin’s face.
It was a familiar sensation. Being banged up and sore, muscles thrumming with the dull echo of a fight. I’d been in this exact state at least a hundred times back in Thornebane.
But this time was… different.
Not because of the fight. Not because it happened on new territory. Not even because I might’ve just screwed up my one shot at a fresh start.
No. What lingered wasn’t pain. It was Ethan. I couldn’t stop picturing the look on his face when he crouched beside me earlier, equal parts irritation and concern.
Like he was annoyed I’d gotten hurt, but still didn’t hesitate to help. Like he cared, even if he didn’t want to. I’d never had that before. Thornebane didn’t have a healer.
Not because we didn’t need one. Heck, we probably needed one more than most packs, but because healers didn’t go near our territory.
We were the kind of wolves people crossed the road to avoid. No one came to help us. No one stayed to fix what we broke. And I’d sure as hell never been touched like that before. Gently. Steadily. With care.
I could still feel the afterglow of Ethan’s magic, warm and quiet, like it had soaked into my bones and decided to stay awhile. It hadn’t felt like power or dominance.
It hadn’t demanded anything of me. It just… was. Steady and soothing and strong. A kind of strength I wasn’t used to recognizing.
