Page 56

SASHA

A ceiling met my vision as my eyelids drifted open and I blinked as my gaze slid to the side.

An oak nightstand with a rustic lamp atop stood to my right.

My brow wrinkled. I didn’t have a nightstand in my bedroom.

Then my eyes snagged on the window. Rich brown curtains flanked the window, pulled closed.

My memory rushed back like a tidal wave.

I was in the forest, fighting a werebear.

How the hell did I end up here?

And where was ‘here’?

My heart beat a staccato against my ribcage.

Breaths quickening, I twisted in the bed; the sheets tangling around my legs.

I rose on my elbows, tried to sit up, but white hot pain speared through my abdomen.

I dropped my gaze down to the sheets. A gauze binding wrapped around my stomach.

I blinked. A figure appeared in my periphery, sending the tiny hairs on my arms lifting.

My claws sliced out, and my head whipped to the left. Relief loosened my shoulders.

Damon slumped in a chair. His head lolled to the side while his chest rose and fell with even breaths.

Dark shadows clung to the skin beneath his eyes.

A mop of tangled waves tousled his hair.

My nose wrinkled as I caught the stench of dried blood, and sweat intermingled with body odor.

From the smell of him, he hadn’t bathed in… days.

Have I been unconscious that long? And what the hell happened with the fight against the werebear?

I recalled attacking him with unsheathed claws and fangs. How his claws had ripped through the flesh of my arms as if they were mere butter. Damon had arrived, and I jumped in to save him and the werebear slashed open my stomach and…

And then what?

“Damon?”

He didn’t stir.

“Damon?” I called out louder.

He jerked awake, shooting to his feet, fangs jabbed out—as if he were readying to face down a foe. His gaze swung toward me, and his fangs receded into the gum line.

“Sasha…” He exhaled a long sigh.

Damon stood and dropped to his knees at my bedside, worry lines creasing his brow. “Thank God you’re all right.”

“What happened to me?”

Damon raised a brow. “You mean you don’t remember?”

I shook my head.

He raked a hand through his already messy strands. “You fought the werebear single-handedly.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I know that.” I had the wounds to prove it.

Damon shook his head. “No. You conjured up a wolf made of light and controlled it. You fought the werebear through an extension of the wolf and pushed the bear over the ravine.” Damon blinked, shaking his head. “I’ve seen nothing like it. How did you do that?”

Eyes wide with astonishment, I stared at Damon. “I-I did what ?”

Damon relayed the events to me that had happened three nights before. Every added detail left me more confused, my mind whirling. “I…” After swallowing past a dry lump in my throat, I said, “I don’t remember any of that. And I don’t even know how I did it. Those powers… they almost sound fae-like.”

But that’s impossible. Werewolves don’t possess power like that! And I’m not fae, by any means… Could this have something to do with the silverbane the witch gave me at birth?

I shook my head. No, the witch meant to kill me, not give me some fae power. But… why was I targeted in the first place? That mystery had haunted me for years.

“These past few days,” Damon began, voice solemn.

“It has been touch and go with you. Our healer feared you may not survive your injuries.” His voice trembled, and he fisted the sheets, as if to steel himself.

“I tried to heal you, licked your wounds, hoping I would transfer my regenerative powers through saliva. But it didn’t work. ”

I bit my lower lip at that, taking in that troubling information. My gaze fastened on Damon. A muscle ticked in his jaw. He refused to meet my eyes. “You know something, don’t you?” He glanced back at me. “Why do you think that your regenerating powers didn’t work?”

After a pregnant pause, he muttered, “Because of the werebear being manipulated by Dark Fae. Maybe the fae laced his claws with power to prevent a werewolf from regenerating.”

My brows shot up. “Y-You… said Dark Fae manipulated the bear…”

Damon’s lips thinned. “I owe you an apology.” He sighed. “I should’ve believed you when you said you could smell Dark Fae earlier at the trails.”

I ignored the warm flutter in my chest at his apology. “That aside, how did you come to the same conclusion that the Dark Fae were responsible for the werebear attacks?”

“When I fought the bear, I tried to force him to yield by using my dominance as alpha,” Damon said. “He wouldn’t submit. And that’s when I touched his mind and hit a metallic-like wall that enshrouded his mind.”

I nodded, my thoughts spinning a mile a minute. “One thing that makes little sense… Why did he attack us… attack me?”

“I’ve been wracking my brain over that answer since you passed out.”

A knock at the door sounded. Damon whipped his head around, a vicious snarl erupting from his chest. I flinched at the menacing air that wafted from the alpha bear.

The door cracked open a bit. A head peeked around the door’s edge.

The face was round, though somewhat angular, with defined cheekbones.

Full lips tipped up in wry amusement. Gray eyes glimmered beneath dark brown strands.

“Would you relax, Alpha?” the male said. “Otherwise, I’ll take my leave and tend to the female’s wounds another time.”

That seemed to catch Damon’s attention, and he ceased snarling.

Though his eyes remained trained on the other male’s every movement as he stepped into the room.

The strange male wore faded denim jeans that hugged his muscular thighs.

A white coat draped over a pressed gray shirt.

The foreign male turned his gaze to me and offered a gentle smile.

“Hello, Sasha,” he said. “My name is Balin. I’m the healer of the Stoneclaw clan.”

I dipped my head. “Nice to meet you, Balin.”

Balin let out a chuckle as he approached. “Not too many people say that. Usually my greeting falls along the lines of, ‘Help me.’”

My returning giggle caused a sharp pain in my stomach.

“Let’s look at that, shall we?” Balin winked at me.

My teeth sank into my lower lip, drawing blood as the healer removed my shirt and peeled away the gauze, revealing four slash marks spanning my midsection.

Dried, crusted blood and dark scabs framing the claw marks formed along the edges.

I hissed through the pain. A soft snarl crested from Damon’s lips.

He eyed the healer like he was the enemy invading the territory rim. I cast him a withering glare.

“Let the healer do his work, idiot.”

Damon’s eyes snapped alert, and his attention arrested on me. Balin ducked his chin, no doubt to hide his grin. Though his shoulders shook a bit.

Damon’s blue eyes darkened.

Balin leaned over me and poked and prodded at the wounds, though his touch was always gentle and never caused more than a slight wince from me. Finally, he straightened to his full height.

“Well, you will heal,” Balin said. “You are no longer dabbling with death.”

As I looked down at the grisly wounds, my stomach clenched, thinking about how close I had come to dying. A large hand closed around mine. Damon’s. My eyes lifted, connecting with his. He gazed in silence back at me.

“You will heal,” Balin reiterated again. “But it will be slow going from this point on. Though I’ve stopped the bleeding and repaired the damaged organs, you will still recover slower because you’re a latent. You’ve no wolf to aid in your healing.”

That’s what the healer thought. And I had no inclination to correct him. Let others think I was an average latent. I knew I had an inner wolf. She just couldn’t shift. I thought back to Damon’s words about an enormous wolf made of light.

Would the wolf help me if I wished for it?

I looked deep into myself. My inner wolf was still there, laying on her belly, head resting on her paws. Her coat was a little duller, a tinge of gray. Energy drained.

I heaved a sigh. “So, how long are we talking?”

“Weeks,” Balin said.

I fought back a grumble. “I’ll call my pack and have a transport ready.”

Balin shifted on his feet, his lips pinched at the corners. I raised a brow at him.

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to travel safely or that far.” Balin shot me a grimace. “In your condition, the wound can reopen with too much movement. I strongly encourage bedrest.”

Bedrest?!

My gaze swung to Damon. The determined glint in his eye had my hackles raised.

“The hell I will!”

Damon stood. “Thank you for your help, Balin.”

“Do you hear me, Damon?” A low growl sprung from my lungs.

“I’ll see myself out, Alpha,” Balin replied. He bowed his head and swept from the room, as if sensing the tension that was about to explode in a meltdown like a nuke.

As soon as the door closed, I detonated.

“Damon, I will not?—”

“I will have my lieutenant, Amber, send a message to your pack regarding your condition?—”

“If you think for one second?—”

He interrupted me again. “So, you’ll be unable to travel and be staying with my pack for the foreseeable future.”

“You flea-brained mongrel,” I hissed, fangs bared. “The hell I will sit here and stay on this bedrest, in your bed .” After tossing off the covers, I swung my stiff legs over the bed’s edge to stand.

“I have no problem handcuffing you to the bedpost.”

My head snapped up. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Damon’s smirk looked like pure wickedness.

“I’ve always wanted to see you handcuffed to my bed.” His gaze turned smoldering. “Make my wet dream come true, Sasha.”

I was sure they could hear my answering snarl all the way across his territory.