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She lets out a weeping sound that has my heart clenching helplessly.

“I don’t want to,” she mumbles now, her eyes unseeing as she looks at me. “I want to go home.” Her tears are those of a child, petrified and helpless.

I tighten my arms around her protectively. “I’ll take you home,” I whisper fiercely. “But you have to wake up.”

She doesn’t awaken, but her body begins to go limp, and then she slumps against me, back in a deep sleep.

My heart uneasy, I study her, stroking her hair as she sleeps, still buried in my arms. I let her warmth seep into me and rest my chin on top of her head.

I won’t be able to sleep now. Not after hearing her cry like that.

It seems I’m not the only one keeping secrets.

The next morning, Maya wakes up without a single recollection of her nightmare. Instead, she watches me with a guarded expression from the other side of the cabin.

“I don’t care how good-looking you are,” she tells me, pointing a large wooden spoon at me. “If you start getting frisky with me, I’ll smack you.”

I have to hide my smile. Nobody has ever accused me of being frisky. And she thinks I’m good-looking. I feel rather pleased at that, given my current malnourished condition.

“You were trying to attack me in your sleep,” I tell her calmly, but she just gives me a disbelieving shake of her head.

“Yeah, sure, that’s what happened.” Maya seems to have recovered some of her strength, but she is moving a little slowly. “How much longer do we have to be stuck here?” she complains, banging cupboards as she searches for something. “I’ll go crazy locked up in this place.”

“You were locked up in that cell for far longer,” I point out.

She shoots me an annoyed look. “I was plotting our escape. I had something to do. There’s nothing to do here. There isn’t even anything decent to cook with.”

She’s hungry, I realize.

When I walk over to her, she flinches. For a moment, I wonder if she’s scared of me, but when she picks up the spoon, I realize to my amusement that fear is not the issue.

“You stay on that side of the cabin.” She brandishes the wooden utensil like it’s a weapon. I wonder if she realizes I could break it in a heartbeat. But she seems to feel more secure waving it around, so I leave it alone.

Rifling through the cupboards, I take out some items, including a few more packets of the instant noodles the owner of this cabin seems so fond of.

“What are you doing?” Maya asks hesitantly.

“You’re hungry, are you not?”

“Well, yeah, but we can’t make anything out of beans or mushrooms or whatever the heck that is. And we can’t finish all the instant noodles. What if the witch finds out and gets mad? I didn’t escape Cassian and his goons only to spend the rest of my life as a frog. I don’t do well with water.”

I gently take the spoon from her. “Witches can’t do shapeshifter magic. She won’t be able to turn you into a frog. And maybe you can’t cook, but I can.”

“Really?” She gives me a dubious look. “Where did you learn how to cook?”

“My mother. She enjoyed cooking.”

Maya blinks. “I thought you couldn’t remember anything.”

“Bits and pieces are coming back to me.”

It’s not all a lie. My memory is hazy, but since I was able to shift back, I’ve been recalling various bits and pieces of my life. I still don’t know how I was taken by those people and why Quentin betrayed me. Where was I when it happened?

“It must be the drugs.” Maya sounds sympathetic.

“The Silver Ring Organization has been kidnapping shifters for years, and you were one of them. They gave you something to break the link between your wolf and your human side. They wanted to weaken you for some reason. But they needed you in your human form.”

I go stiff, my head turning slightly toward her. “How do you know this?”

“I was abducted from the palace where I was helping figure out what they were giving the shifters. One of the kidnapped shifters managed to escape, but he was killed, and I conducted an autopsy on him. The drug they’d injected him with preserved his body flawlessly.

I managed to figure out the drug and its formula, but what you were given was something different, an earlier version of it. ”

“The palace? Which palace?”

“The one in LA?” she says slowly. “King Erik hired me—”

“King Erik?” I feel a jolt.

“Yes.” She stares at me. “You must know him. I mean, if you were kidnapped, you must have been a part of his kingdom.”

“His kingdom,” I murmur softly, amused. “Yes. Yes, I was. So, Erik hired you because you’re a…”

“Scientist of sorts. I’ve done a lot of things. I studied medicine and worked in the morgue for a while. Then I started studying veterinary medicine, and I worked as a vet for a year or so before I switched to research.”

“What did my—What did Erik hire you to do?”

“I just told you. Shifters were being kidnapped and disappearing. One of them managed to escape, and it was later discovered that the reason they were able to be taken so easily was that they were unable to shift and fight back. Erik wanted me to find out why they were unable to shift when they were attacked.”

She pauses to pour herself a glass of water.

“It took a lot to convince him to let me conduct an autopsy on the shifter who had escaped. He had died, you see. Didn’t make it.

I managed to discover the formula just as Cassian kidnapped me.

I don’t know what makes your kind able to shift forms, but Cassian and his people were able to create a drug that cuts off your connection with your wolf.

That’s what happened with you. And I fear”—she pauses, her voice getting stuck in her throat—“I fear that’s what he did to Leanna. ”

Leanna is clearly somebody important to her, but before I can ask her, she looks my way. “Leanna is the queen of the Northern Kingdom.”

I blink, trying to remember who the king of the North is. There’s a name itching in the back of my brain. I know the man.

“Cedric Raine is her mate. He’s a big brute.”

Ah, Cedric. Now I remember. It’s obvious that Maya is not very fond of him. It’s very surprising to me that Cedric took a mate. “Is Leanna from a noble family?”

Maya shakes her head. “Not even close.” Her voice lowers, even though there is no one else around to hear her.

“Apparently, she was a dead ringer for Princess Vivian from the Eastern Wolf Kingdom. According to Leanna, Vivian did something to piss Cedric off, and then she killed somebody or did something really bad, so Cedric decided to invade the Eastern Kingdom. He found Leanna there, kidnapped her, and made her his mate.”

I’ve been chopping the mushrooms, but now I stare at the cutting board, my knife going still. I don’t remember Cedric being so foolish as to kidnap a woman to mate her. There were plenty of females within his kingdom that his pack elders wanted him to marry. “Why would he kidnap a random woman?”

“She was his fated mate,” Maya tells me, looking irritated. “He wasn’t very nice to her in the beginning, and then Vivian came back, and then…a lot happened. Am I talking too much?”

I look up from the vegetables. “Not at all. I like listening to your voice.”

Her cheeks turn a lovely shade of red. “I—Okay, then.”

When she doesn’t say anything further, I urge, “Vivian came back from where?”

She beams at me, and I resist the urge to smile. She’s adorable. Maya is a striking woman, but more than anything, the energy she exudes makes her mesmerizing.

I’ve always been a quiet man. Fortunately, my mate talks enough for the both of us.

It also helps that I enjoy listening to her, with her animated expressions and dramatic tone.

She’s lively, and I know for a fact that once we return, the palace will no longer feel so constrained to me.

Even here, with the sound of raindrops hitting the windows and the fire crackling in the fireplace, this small space is enough for the two of us.

When we were in the cell together, I would often find myself relaxing when she would talk to me.

The sound of her voice calmed the demons in my head, quelling the screaming inside.

She doesn’t seem to know the kind of impact she had on me.

My wolf is smitten with her. In my darkest moment, she was a ray of sunshine, of hope.

She managed to pull me back from the edge of despair.

She doesn’t trust me much. It’s obvious with the small, tense looks she keeps sending my way. But I don’t blame her.

She’s still talking, telling me about how Vivian returned to the North and threw Leanna into the dungeons while Cedric was away. Her story unfolds with Leanna escaping to the human world and having Cedric’s child, the prince of the North.

“Finn?” I ponder the choice. “Does the name mean anything?”

She vacillates. “Ah. No, well, actually…”

When she doesn’t finish her thought, I find myself watching her. She looks awkward, fidgeting with her glass.

“Finn was the name of a character on a reality dating show we used to watch together. He was the most well-adjusted person on the show.”

“I see.” I turn my attention back to the canned beans.

“We couldn’t find a better name for him, and he looked like a Finn!” She sounds embarrassed.

“I’m sure he did.”

“It’s true!”

“I’m not saying it isn’t.”

She slides off the stool. “Aargh! You’re so frustrating.”

As she storms to the other side of the cabin, I look over my shoulder at her, confused. What did I say? I just agreed with her. Did she not want me to agree with her?

I start throwing things together, turning on the stove and grabbing a pot.

I wasn’t lying to Maya when I told her that my mother was the one who taught me how to cook.

My mother wasn’t a royal. She wasn’t even a noble.

She was a chef at a local restaurant when my father met her.

They weren’t fated mates, but my father fell for her, and despite her initial resistance, he won her over.

However, throughout her mating to my father, my mother never lost her love for cooking.

And when my brother and I were young, she would bring us into the kitchen and teach us the basics.

Erik didn’t pay much attention, although he did pick up a few things.

He was more interested in fighting and sparring with the soldiers.

I enjoyed that, too, but the time spent with my mother was equally important to me.

I found cooking to be relaxing after a grueling day of lessons and training.

Since I was the oldest, I was the heir; and as the heir, I was always busy with something or other.

These moments spent with my mother were the only times I could unwind.

However, once she passed, following my father’s death, and I became king, I no longer had time to focus on anything but the kingdom.

I pause. This is the first time I’ve cooked anything since my mother died. A heavy sadness and a wave of nostalgia wash over me. If she were here, she would be throwing instructions at me, tasting things and adding more spices.

By the time I’m done, Maya is leaning against the wall, dozing off. I wonder if she sulked herself into a nap or was simply tired.

Setting the food down before her, I fetch another plate and take a moment to look around the place.

The furnishings are sparse. No bed, just a futon in the corner.

There is no other furniture aside from what is in the kitchen.

No table or chairs. It seems to be a place to sleep, cook, and eat.

I have a feeling that the witch is not going to be happy about our intrusion.

“Maya.” I touch her cheek lightly, marveling at how soft her skin is. “It’s time to eat. You must be hungry.”

She mumbles something in her sleep and tries to bat my hand away. But I’m quite firm.

“Wake up.”

Reluctantly, her eyes flutter open, filled with sleep. “What?”

“Eat,” I repeat.

Her drowsy gaze lowers to the food in front of her: a soft stew, which will be easy on the stomach.

She yawns. “Did you really make this?” Picking up the bowl, she sniffs it in a manner that would make me feel insulted if I weren’t so entertained by the sight. “It smells decent enough,” she declares, and the corner of my lips tugs upward.

“Maybe you should try it,” I suggest, and I watch her take a spoonful. Her eyes widen slightly.

With her mouth full, she fans herself because she didn’t consider how hot it would be. When she swallows, she stares at me, stunned. “This is really good. You’re a great cook.”

I give her a small smile. “Eat.”

As I consume my own food, my hair keeps falling over my shoulder.

I never kept my hair long. I found it bothersome.

Unlike Erik, who inherited our mother’s dark hair, I have my father’s silver hair.

I always kept it short, so for it to have grown this much, I figure I must have been in that place for years.

“Your hair is bothering you,” Maya observes. “Do you want me to cut it?”

She wants to cut my hair? I give her an odd look, wondering if she knows what she’s offering.

She immediately interprets my expression as a lack of confidence in her skills. “I can cut hair. I’ve cut Finn’s for years. You just want it short, right?”

She doesn’t understand, I realize.

I set down my bowl, my lips curving ever so slightly. “Yes. I would appreciate it.”