Page 16 of The Wolf and Her Shadows

To my shock and relief both, she calls out, “There’s no need for you to undress, I can work around them.”

“Alright.” Praying that my trust in her isn’t misplaced, I flop down onto my stomach and burrow my face into the soft fur beneath me. Unable to resist the urge to tease her, I mutter, “Now hurry up or I’ll fall asleep before you’ve even touched me.”

I hear the elf softly chuckle, then the faint stench of her boots hits my nose as she steps up next to me. “Can’t have that, now can we?” Dropping to her own knees, she brushes away the hair that had fallen into my face. “Would you prefer me here, or is it alright if I straddled you?”

My eyes trail from her face down to her leather-clad thighs, and I find myself nodding without meaning to. “You may.”

With no trace of her earlier cockiness, she returns my nod and swings one leg over me, careful not to put her full weight on my hips. True to her word, she begins gently massaging my shoulders through the thin fabric of my shirt. Despite her assurances, I’m honestly still a bit surprised that she doesn’t even hint that she wishes to slip her hands beneath my clothing instead.

My eyes flutter closed as the tenseness in my shoulders begins to ease. When her hands drift lower and she begins rubbing soothing circles along my spine, to my horror, I let out a low moan. Yet, even this she ignores, responding only by slightly increasing the pressure of her hands against the knots beneath them. Her touch is so drastically different from any I’ve endured since my escape that it causes tears to slowly begin trailing down my cheeks.

I don’t bother wiping them away.

After massaging away all the stubborn knots on my back, Vannaria’s hands briefly fall still and she quietly asks, “Should I continue lower?”

My breath hitches at the implications of the question, but I fight back the flash of anxiety and force myself to nod. “Please do. My hips, they…” I trail off, too embarrassed to admit how much pain I’m truly in. And how much I’ve been enjoying her touching me so far.

“Alright.” Rising back onto her knees, she shifts lower, settling onto the backs of my own knees. “Feel free to tell me to stop if it becomes too much for you.”

She waits for me to nod before gently trailing her hands to the sides of my hips. After a moment of softly caressing them, likely to allow me to get used to her touching me in a more intimate location, her fingertips dig into my flesh and she begins working at these tight muscles as well.

When she presses against a rather painful spot, I let out a strangled gasp without meaning to.

Her fingers still immediately. “Too much? Should I stop?”

With fresh tears streaming down my face, both from the sincerity of her concern and from the intensity of the pain, I glance at her over my shoulder and whisper, “No, please don’t stop.”

Her brows furrow when she no doubt sees my tears, but instead of questioning me further, she nods. As her skillful hands resume kneading my aching muscles, I let out a contented sigh, allowing my eyes to close and head to loll back onto the bedroll.

I’m fast asleep by the time she makes it halfway down the backs of my thighs.

Chapter Seven

Rayne

The nightmare starts out the same way it always does. Children’s mocking laughter. Several sets of small grubby hands grabbing at me. Vision going dark as a burlap bag is placed over my head. Choking on both sobs and lack of air when a thin rope is tied around my neck to keep the bag in place.

My futile attempts to escape being made impossible as more rope is tied around both my ankles and wrists, which have been forced behind my back. Ice filling my veins as they drag me towards the lake they’d lured me to.

They’d all said they were going to help teach me how to swim.

They’d lied.

Fear consuming my entire being as my body hits the surface of the water, quickly slipping beneath it. The intensely accurate knowledge that any hope we had of vengeance is being stolen away from us, along with our life. Instinctively fighting against my bonds as I sink lower, my lungs filling with icy water as I attempt to let out a rage filled scream. The same way my veins had been filled by metaphorical ice.

Yet, this time, the darkness that has always followed never comes.

Instead, I feel more hands grabbing me, pulling me from my watery would-be grave. This isn’t how it should go… Unicorns don’t have hands?

Jolting awake, I sit up, dagger already in hand and a fresh scream painfully ripping from my throat. Another, quieter, yelp immediately follows as our no-longer-captive Mariane stumbles away from me. Oh. She must’ve realized I’d been having a nightmare. Vann probably should’ve warned her not to try waking us up. Wolf girl was lucky she was quick enough to avoid a blade in her belly.

Wincing, I give her what I hope looks like an apologetic smile. “Whoopsies. Sorry for almost stabbing ya.”

Ignoring my apology, Mariane narrows her eyes narrow and asks, “You’re not Vannaria, are you?”

My smile shifts into a feral grin as I shake my head. “Nope, sure ain’t. Name’s Rayneval. Rayne for short.” I stick out my hand, the one not holding my dagger. “Nice ta meet ya.”

Still side-eying my weapon, and after a brief hesitation, she somewhat awkwardly grasps my left hand with hers. “Right. Nice to meet you as well. I’d offer you my name, but I assume you already know it.”