I stumble, my hand on the still-healing slice across my belly, a symptom of not giving a fuck about Cristofer hurting me in my rush to save Marisa and Troy.
Someone catches me.
Their furry arms are bloody, and when I lift my gaze, I meet Aren’s wolf head.
His body is mostly human. His hands are claws, longer, sharper-looking than a wolf's, and his snout is bloody.
“So, this is third form?” I ask.
He nods.
I take my time looking him over. “I get why Leo wanted to take you to show and tell. I wouldn’t mind taking you myself.”
Slowly, he shifts back to his fully human self.
It’s fascinating.
His face is pale, and he’s swaying slightly. The transformation clearly exhausts him. Gregor warned me that being superhuman like that comes with a cost, which is why bringing Aren to show and tell wasn’t wise.
An ability like that is about saving lives, not about showing off a wolf's head on a human body to a roomful of curious pups.
“Are you okay?” I ask him, concerned.
He stares at me. “AmIokay?”
“Yeah, you just…”
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asks me, his expression impossible to decipher.
I blink at the suddenness of his question. “Uh, no. Just my belly.” And that’s healing fast.
“Wait there,” he orders me.
I watch him walk over to Troy. While I wasn’t paying attention, Gregor slipped out of the bunkhouse and is kneeling beside Troy, now human again, with a large bag of medical supplies.
Aren sinks into a crouch, his eyes on Troy’s bloody chest. “Is he okay?”
“He will be,” Gregor says, hands busy, focused on treating Troy’s wounds. “Stitches and a whole heap of bed rest await him.”
Troy groans in frustration, and I almost feel sorry for him because none of that sounds fun.
“Thanks,” a female voice calls out.
I turn to find Marisa sitting on the floor as Silas checks her over.
She looks at me and continues, “It was stupid running at a feral like that, but thanks.”
I nod, smiling slightly. “No worries. It was the least I could have done.”
“The least you could have done is nothing,” she says, not smiling. “After I nearly killed you, it’s what I deserved.”
“We’re pack now, right?” I say. “Pack looks out for each other.”
“Thanks. And sorry I tried to kill you. My jealous self could not handle losing Aren, and I was too blind to realize he was never mine to begin with.” She smiles at me as she admits something that had to have hurt, and I think maybe we can be more than pack. Maybe wecanbe friends.
“Don’t do it again, and I think we’re good.”
For someone damn good at holding a grudge, I’m surprised that I mean it. I didn’t say it just to be polite. I actually meant it.
