Page 96 of Haze

We pull a bit harder, and finally, a woeful whine follows a loud yelp. Her body stills, but we have to wait. More blood fills our mouth. We squeeze a little more and growl.

The whine grows quieter.

Our heart is breaking and keeps breaking even as her body relaxes.

Releasing her from our jaws, we lie down beside her, and she rolls, licking at our jaws. She submits again. The missing bond warms us. It’s not strong, but it’s finally back.

We nuzzle into her fur and lick at the bite marks. She squirms and rolls again, giving us her belly.

The shift back for Lena takes longer than when she fell into the frustrated feral animal. It looks excruciating, but we let her move at her pace.

She looks exhausted. Dark circles under her eyes are visible in the light of the night.

Shifting back, I move quickly, lifting her from the frosted cold ground. I forgo trying to dress her in the small changing room and instead take her straight up the deck and to the house.

The door opens before I can move her to reach for the knob. Deacon steps aside, letting us in.

He whispers, “The ancestors said her wolf was unwell. They were worried you wouldn’t have what it takes to help her.”

Again, I’m left without an answer to something Deacon says. That’s a later problem.

As I walk across the house and up the stairs, Lena whines, ripping long claw marks through my heart.

Chapter 31

Lena

Finn whispers, “Oh, Kathleen, please forgive me.”

My eyelids are too heavy to keep open. “Tomorrow, Finn, sleeping now.”

“I’ll get you cleaned up. You rest,” he says.

Ours. Our mate, my wolf whispers.

The lava is gone, and back is the coward making a nest in my chest. She circles my heart, swoony over Finn.

Go to sleep, I urge her. Or better yet, go heal our reproductive system.

She goes silent and doesn’t respond. Typical.

“Kathleen, it’s okay, faolan. You’re alright. You’re okay.” Finn’s hand squeezes mine.

A warm damp rag runs across my neck.

“Easy, faolan.”

Finn keeps saying those words, but I don’t understand why.

He runs a finger across my cheek, spreading moisture with the movement. Opening my eyes, I examine him.

His brows are knit together in a concerned expression of sadness and anger he wears so well. Maybe it’s not concern but disappointment.

I hear a whine and then feel it in my throat as Finn wipes the cloth again. Firm strokes run down my neck to my collarbones.

If Thalia hadn’t described it earlier, I wouldn’t have understood, but the new feeling is the mating bond. Finn is in my chest, wrapped all the way around, holding what may be best described as the opposite of disappointment.

It’s a feeling I want more of, and it’s what I was missing to sleep.

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