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I frowned, flinching internally back from the kaleidoscope of bruises on my face. I looked like I’d been through a meat grinder.
“Just focus on your eyes, nothing else,” she said as she walked with elaborate care towards Peter.
He stiffened, something that provoked an answering tension in me. Why? my brain asked, but it wasn’t in the driver’s seat. I ignored her order, the mirror still held out in front of my face, but largely disregarded as she got closer and closer to the man. Her previously easy going smile now seemed somewhat sadistic. He didn’t want her to do this, I could see it in his face. He eyed her like one would a rabid dog, wary and ready to bolt at any second.
“It’s OK,” she crooned to him. “I just need to prove a point.”
He fought the urge to pull away, his spine twisting as far as it would go without actually moving away. Her hand reached out, a shiver going through his body as her fingers broached the gap until…
“NO!” I snarled, the noise shocking me into silence. And when I looked up, wondering who the fuck had made that kind of sound, I saw it—my eyes, usually a washed out blue, flared bright green in the mirror. I just stared for a second, my reflection shaking as I did so, until I let it fall from limp fingers.
“Neurological damage… Need tests…”
Ophelia shook her head slowly, giving me a sad smile.
“No, my dear. You’re one of us.”
Out of the frying pan into the fire, I thought as I clawed at the bed sheets, struggling to get free of them. I hurt, my body resisting movement with everything it had, but move I must. I’d obviously landed in the headquarters of some weird arse cult that was going to ask me to sign away my life savings in return for a place on God’s spaceship out of this world.
“Kade…” I called, keeping my eyes on them, trying to dislodge the cables attached to me and openly ripping at them when that didn’t work.
“Flick, it’ll be OK.”
I froze for a moment, my head turning slowly when I heard Peter’s rumble. It was low and reassuring, and I felt the reverberations all the way through me, from head to toe.
Why does that work? I thought as I tried to amp up my blood pressure, but I could feel the tension leaching out, my pulse slowing. He came to the side of the bed, and I watched one hand wrap around the railing, but the other? It reached for me. So slow, I could have dodged it easily, but I didn’t. Somehow, I knew it would feel so good to have his hand on me, something that was confirmed when his hand went to my jaw. I felt like I nestled in the middle of his palm, sheltered, protected, waves of love and longing and need washing through me like the gentlest of tides. I took the longest breath out, like I was exhaling every held in scream, gasp, cry, all at once. I became boneless as the other hand stroked my hair back from my face, pain gone, awareness gone.
“I did tell you,” said someone.
“So you did. Goddess, it's real. He’s her mate.”
“So he is. This doesn’t happen often, usually only when the host is so severely threatened or deprived that the Tirian takes the wheel, but it's usually not successful. We remain human. We need to find our way towards a bonded relationship. I would have wished for better, for both of them.”
“Then let's find a way to make it better.”
I only opened my eyes when he slowly withdrew his hand. I almost whimpered at the loss, which should have told me something, but he softened the blow by standing beside my bed and holding my hand. I felt more clear-headed, able to see the audience I’d had for what felt like an insanely private moment, but the steady thrum coming from him was enough to keep me settled.
Ophelia nodded, as if acknowledging this, and then said, “Doc Hobbes has said you can leave here. We have a house set up for you and Kade…and Peter. If you wish.”
I felt his fingers tighten, then go limp. I looked up at him, my brain screaming at me, You’re going to shack up with another guy, days after braining your husband? Take a house in a town you haven’t even seen? With a bunch of people that think they see wolves as well? But his expression caught my attention more than anything. That slow, warm, regard was being hauled back, locked up tight behind a bland façade with no actual change to his face, except for one. The light had died in his eyes.
“It must seem incredibly rushed. It’s not how we like to do things here, but at the very least—” Ophelia said.
“He can help with the pain,” Jules interrupted. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, like somehow, this was more traumatic for her than me. “No one will push you to do anything you don’t want to, but, Flick,
he’s the only one right now that can take the pain away from you until you heal.”
I felt the slow swipe of his thumb over the back of my hand. It was completely ridiculous what they were proposing, but I couldn’t deny the proof. I felt like I’d taken some really good meds, but instead of being stoned, I just felt…
‘Good’ was too inadequate a word. I sat there, bruised and battered, and yet I carried this warm little spark inside me without the faintest of ideas as to where it came from. When I shot Peter a sidelong look and was met by the smallest of smiles, I knew he felt that too.
How?
So I asked.
Jules looked meaningfully at Ophelia, who sighed and nodded.
“This is the most difficult thing we need to cover.” She tipped her head to Aidan, who pulled the curtain, hiding us from the kids. I started to straighten, not sure what was coming but pretty sure I wouldn’t like it. Peter’s hands grew bolder, sandwiching mine between his palms, rubbing it back and forth.
