Page 239 of Fangs
“As soon as one of ’em picks up a trail, they’re gonna get me,” Wolf said after a few breaths. “I’ll find him, Em. I promise.”
“Don’t promise that,” I said. I couldn’t get my hopes up. I couldn’t.
“Emmy, we’re gonna find him,” Wolf repeated, his voice fierce.
I glanced up at his face and could feel hope digging its claws into my heart, but I tried to ignore it.
“Do you want some water?”
I nodded, and he fetched a bottle of water and opened it for me. I fumbled with my bandaged hands but managed. When I was done, I gave it back, and a heavy silence fell. I stared at the fire, knowing he was going to ask what had happened. I might as well get it over with.
“Did you know what the Voiceless wanted with me?” My voice sounded hollow.
“I knew they wanted you brought back to Sin City,” he said cautiously.
“I’m supposed to be the God of Death’s bride.”
His brow furrowed over his flashing eyes. “What?”
“There’s a prophecy. They were gonna bring me back to have his children.”
He stared at me, nostrils flaring and a muscle flexing in his jaw.
“The Voiceless think I’m the Goddess of Life.” I could tell that my flat, wooden tone was scaring him, but I couldn’t do anything about it.
“So what, they were gonna force you to…” His voice trailed off like he couldn’t bear to say it.
“Fuck him until I was pregnant over and over? Yeah.”
A strong gust of wind made the surrounding trees creak, breaking the silence with the eerie sound. Wolf stood, and the abrupt movement made me flinch. He didn’t move for a moment, staring at me, his trembling hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Then he paced away, running a hand through his hair. I jumped when he let out a yell and lashed out, his knuckles smashing into a tree trunk over and over, making the entire tree shudder. I huddled into a small ball and watched him—my eyes painfully dry. When he finally stopped, he paced away again and stood with his back to me, swiping at his face with his sleeve. The emotion pouring from him was its own kind of storm—a much more normal reaction than the nothing I felt. It was several minutes before he returned, and I could tell by the way he was holding his arms that he’d hurt his hands again.
“Didyouknow about this?” he asked, his voice ragged.
“No.”
“Can I sit with you?”
When I nodded, he carefully stepped over the bedroll and lowered himself next to me. I tried to take his bloody hand, and he pulled away, frowning.
“You’re injured, Em.”
“Please?” I whispered.
He hesitated a moment longer but finally gave me his right hand. I healed his injuries, slow but steady, through my unbandaged fingertips.
“You just don’t seem very surprised,” he said, low.
I gestured for his left hand. He let out a heavy breath and gave it to me.
“I’m not surprised.”
“Why?” His voice cracked.
Part of me wanted to scream the words at him, but exhaustion pulled at my bones, and the words came out so empty. “Because this is my life.”
I finished healing his hand, and we sat side by side in silence for a while as he took deep breaths with shaky exhales. His emotions were wild again, raging around us, and if he was a storm, I was a hollow tree awaiting my fate.
“Mac said someone named Sax took you?” he asked once he calmed down again.
