I don’t know how to exist in a place like this.
All my life I’ve lived on the edge of too little. Too little food. Too little kindness. Too little safety. I’ve washed in cold streams. Slept on the floor. Been told that pain was the price of being tolerated.
And now I stand here in a room designed for pleasure.
My chest tightens. My throat aches with an emotion I don’t have words for. Grief, maybe—for all the years no one ever thought I deserved this.
I run my fingers over a towel. It’s softer than anything I’ve ever touched.
“The waters have healing properties,” Ryker explains, watching me. “Silver burns fade faster when treated in these pools.”
I wrap my arms around my middle, wondering if they have the power to heal my wolf.
Ryker’s gaze drops to my arms, and I’m once again painfully aware of my nudity. In my old pack, curves like mine were seen as a weakness—another sign I wasn’t a true wolf. The females there are lean and athletic, their bodies honed for running and hunting. Here, in this chamber of stone and steam, I feel even more exposed, my weakness on display.
My wolf pushes forward, trying to nuzzle against him, to be close. She trusts him.
He is ours, she tells me.
“You’re afraid,” Ryker says.
“I’m cautious,” I say instead.
He steps closer but doesn’t touch me. “Why? Yesterday you were one of a pack of many. Today you’re a queen.”
I want to answer him but find myself without words.
He waits, the silence growing between us before sighing and turning away. “Help me clean these wounds?”
I’m surprised that his question is a request rather than an order.
“Okay.”
I follow him into the water, the heat seeping into my muscles, easing aches I didn’t even realize I had. The pool has natural ledges carved into its sides, allowing us to sit comfortably with the water at chest height.
Or at least chest height for him. It laps my collarbone, hiding me from his gaze.
Ryker hands me a cloth, turning so I can see the silver burns across his back. Some are already healing, but others look angry and deep, the skin blistered and raw. With gentle fingers, I begin to clean them, watching as the mineral-rich water washes away the remnants of metal and grit, seeming to soothe the worst of the damage.
My wolf is calm, tail curled around her paws.Safe, she tells me again.He is safe.
He may be tame now, but I have little doubt he could become feral quickly.
“Tell me about the Shadowmist Pack,” I say softly, needing to fill the intimate silence. “I know so little about you.”
“What do you know?”
“Barely anything at all. Alpha Varick rarely asked me to turn my vision your way, and we aren’t taught your lore.”
Ryker shakes his head. “Fool. Let me guess, he didn’t see us as a worthy threat.”
“You’d have to ask him.” I dip the cloth back in the waters, then lift it, running it across his back. “Are you a threat?”
He glances behind him, our gazes meeting. “Yes.”
I swallow, ducking my head as I concentrate on cleaning his wounds. “Thaddeus seemed angry with you. Why?”
“Because we are what they try to forget. We hunt as wolves are meant to hunt. We embrace the darkness they’vetried to purge.” He hisses as I find a particularly deep burn. “We are what they fear becoming.”
