12. Dirge

TWELVE

Dirge

I was hesitant to sleep again after my mate's wound was stitched back up. Adrenaline ran through my veins at top speed, whispering that danger was near, even as the long hours of the night stretched on. Her pack mates—her family, I corrected myself with a glance at the blonde and brunette heads tilted together in sleep in their chairs—stayed with us, meaning I had not just my precious mate to protect, but them as well.

What was precious to her was precious to me. And after seeing them interact today, I had no doubt that they were precious to Shay. So I kept watch, doing the only mate thing that was left to me in wolf form: protecting her.

Brielle groaned softly in her sleep, clutching her stomach and curling tighter into Leigh's side. That concerned me, but she settled after a few moments. Still, I stayed vigilant.

So it was in the very early morning, when the sun's rays had only begun to crest the horizon, I was awake and felt a strange power flood the room.

It was unlike anything I'd ever sensed before, and the flash that accompanied it had me on my feet, a low growl in my throat.

"Dirge? What's wrong?" Shay's sleepy voice was soft and rough, her hands in my fur gentle, soothing. "I don't sense anyone nearby who shouldn't be. Can we rest a little longer?" She dropped her forehead to my shoulder, stroking my ruff lightly as she waited for me to decide.

I had no way to tell her what I'd felt or to find out if the magical surge had invaded the whole area or just this room. I hoped for the former, but feared the latter. Still, though, as we sat and quietly watched the sunrise together, there was no sign of anything amiss, and gradually, the tension eased from me.

"I wish you could talk to me," Shay murmured, twisting a lock of my fur around her fingertip. "There's so much I want to know about you, but I can't, like this. Like, why did your eyes go back to normal? Can the man hear me, or are you all wolf now? Are you trying to shift back? Do you need something from me to do it?" Frustration leaked into her tone, and I whined as I leaned my head against her chest.

I couldn't answer her. And while it was a sorry situation for her mate to be confined to a wolf's body, that was the only way it could be between us.

And so I swallowed down the pain of not being able to give my mate exactly what she wanted and let a low, soothing rumble vibrate from my chest. She sighed when she felt it, hugging me a little too tightly to her chest for comfort, and fell back asleep.

I relished every second.

"Good morning!" Brielle's singsong voice elicited grumbles from the other two women in the room. "Oh, come on. It's after nine. Even I'm awake and caffeinated! Plenty of time for us to be up and check that wound again. May I?" She directed the question to me, where I still lay clutched in Shay's now-loose grip. I gently nosed her hand, and she released me so I could sit up and allow the exam.

"Excellent," Brielle said with a smile, her efficient hands already shifting the blankets and Shay's shirt so she could access the bandage. "Okay, good news—there's no fresh blood here, which means your stitches did their job overnight. Now let's just peel this off and see— Holy hell in a handbasket!"

I stiffened, nosing her hand aside to see what had alarmed her about my mate's condition.

But what I saw was nothing. Smooth, brown skin stretched over a taut stomach. The stitches were gone; the wound was gone. Shay's scent was stronger there, brightly floral with tart fruit, as if it was concentrated on the area where she'd healed miraculously overnight. I snuck in a lick, but she batted me away with a laugh.

"Don't try anything, playboy. Now is not the time to get frisky." My mate tried to sound stern, but the warmth in her touch as she pulled me back toward her shoulder and away from her bare stomach was undeniable. It stoked a warm coal of feeling in my chest. I couldn't place it in this form, but it fueled me nonetheless.

"I've never seen anything like this—especially not with wolfsbane," Brielle whispered, eyes round with shock as she looked from Shay to Leigh and back to the nonexistent wound. "Wolves heal quickly, but the stitches are gone. Where did they go? I need to palpate your abdomen. Tell me if anything hurts."

Shay nodded, and Brielle began a gentle series of pokes and prods to the area, even asking Shay to roll over so she could check her back.

But to my utter relief, there was no wound, no pain, and nothing of evident concern. Not even a scar, which was common with wolfsbane injuries.

"I need to speak with John Henry. This is unprecedented as far as I know, but he's older and might have seen… whatever this is."

"Am I cleared, though? Do I need to stay here if I'm better?"

Brielle hesitated, which gave Leigh an opening.

"Aw, come on. Don't be the doctor right now. If she feels fine, let her sleep in her own bed."

Brielle nodded her acquiescence. "If anything hurts or feels weird, call me immediately. I'll swing by after I talk to John Henry and let you know if he has any idea how this happened. But for now… enjoy your miraculous recovery." She shrugged, then paused. "Also, after a lot of hemming and hawing last night, it's been agreed by the top five that Gael guarding you didn't work out the best, given… your roommate and the tension. So, on a strictly trial basis, you're guard-free."

I sat in shock as I watched her hurry from the room, an anxious tinge to her usually peaceful scent.

But I didn't have much time to focus on that because my mate was stretching before jumping out of bed with long-pent-up enthusiasm. "I get to go back to my room and get out of this fishbowl of a sick ward!" She turned a blazing smile on me, then Leigh.

"You're welcome, milady." Leigh bowed extravagantly. "But if you're bringing the mutt to our room, I must insist that he be bathed. Thoroughly."

Both women swiveled toward me, eyes lingering on various parts of my matted coat. I lowered my ears and rumbled displeasure as what she'd said sank in. A bath? No way .

Half an hour later

There was soap in my eye, my ears were wet, and I had imagined things going far differently if ever my mate stroked my hindquarters. Instead, I was sneezing because the fake-oatmeal-scented wash she was using was terrible, and there were bubbles everywhere. Everywhere .

"Oh, come on, now. Is it really that bad? You're getting a rubdown. Surely that part feels good, at least." Shay emphasized her point by really digging her fingers in and then using her nails to lightly scratch behind my elbows.

I huffed in answer. That part did feel good, I guess.

"Time to rinse, anyway." She hummed a quiet tune as she sprayed me with the detachable showerhead, and I bore it with all the dignity I could muster. Before she got the towel, I shook the water from my coat to her squeals.

Now, that was fun.

After she dried me to her satisfaction, she cleaned the bathroom and then showered herself. But not until after shooing me out the door, because "gentlemen don't peek"—a fact I found amusing. I was no gentleman when it came to her. Though, my wolf form was less concerned about her nudity than her happiness. I kept vigil outside the door until she was finished and settled onto her bed, looking exhausted.

"You should have let me help, woman. You're too stubborn for your own good," Leigh said, flipping through a magazine on her own matching bed. She appeared bored, but I didn't miss the worried looks she kept tossing Shay's way.

"I'm fine now, just a little overheated." She fanned her face.

"Hey, be a good puppy and go bump the switch for the fan with your nose," Leigh called to me, gesturing toward the far wall, where a row of switches was indeed lined up next to the door.

I growled lightly at the puppy remark, but crossed the room and nudged each switch until a fan began to spin lazily overhead.

"You know, having a service dog might be useful after all." Leigh shot me a shit-eating grin, and I grumbled again before climbing on the foot of Shay's bed to keep her company.

"Leigh, quit," Shay admonished, patting the spot by her side for me to come closer. As soon as I did, she kissed me on the top of my nose. "He's not a dog. He's… mine." The words were a soft caress, the claim she staked on me, however tenuous, a balm to my weary soul.

I'd spent hundreds of years alone. With my parents, yes, and then eventually Reed when he was born. But there was a hole in a wolf's soul, one that couldn't be filled by any but his mate. The looming darkness of despair that I had no mate and was destined to be alone forever was the reason I'd done the impossible and sought an audience with the Fetya.

The thought of the challenge of finding them and then the horrible future they'd imparted with no small measure of glee soured my stomach. I wouldn't let it poison what I could have with Shay, though. I wasn't alone anymore. I wasn't a man who could hold her, sure. But I had her in my life. More than I ever dared hope after the awful news they'd given me.

It turned out that even the Fetya hadn't foreseen this possibility. Or if they did, they hadn't shared it. Only that the first time I held my mate in my arms would be the day she died. Not in so many words; that wasn't the way of the fates. They cackled and gestured, the shortest of the three slapping me on the forehead to instill a vision.

And oh, a terrible vision it was. A stunning beauty. Tight black curls flying in the wind, beautiful tawny skin in the pale morning light. She was everything. And then I saw myself rushing to hold her, and the explosion of light bursting out of her as soon as we touched.

The vision darkened after that, and I was left more bereft than I'd entered. Because what torture was it to know that I had such a beautiful, perfect mate and that I'd find her, only for her to die in my arms?

So I shifted, and I ran. That vision couldn't come to be if I never took skin again. Which was why I hadn't.

And I won't.