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24

WREN

The feeling of heat woke me. The uncomfortable kind. The type that occurred when you’d piled too many blankets on the bed the night before.

My eyelids fluttered, bright light filling my vision with each brief blink. But something else filled my senses, teasing my nose, and it wasn’t the scents of home. I smelled wolf—a mix of aromas I’d grown to know well over the past week.

My eyes flew open. Five males were perched around a room far nicer than anything I’d ever stayed in. It had a modern air to it—clean lines, nothing too crowded, with massive windows that looked out onto the surrounding forest. The art was tasteful, too—a modern take on landscapes with imperfect trees formed out of globs of paint.

Brix and Ender sat on a sofa pushed against the far wall, and Puck lounged in an overstuffed chair while Locke and Kingston perched on the end of the bed .

King’s gaze ran over my face. “How do you feel?”

Memories came back to me in flashes. Snapshots of the fight, diving in front of the sword. My gaze snapped to Puck. “You’re okay?”

He pushed up from his chair. “I’m fine, thanks to you. What the hell were you thinking?”

I bristled at his tone. “Trying to save your life. I’ve gotten used to your incessant chatter.”

I expected someone in the group to laugh, but I didn’t even get a chuckle. Worry slid through me, and I mentally checked my shields. Both the emotional and scent ones were in place.

“You shouldn’t have done it,” Puck ground out.

I sighed, wincing as I pushed up against the pillows. I could tell the wound was healing, but it wasn’t quite there yet. I’d have to keep the guys from examining it. They’d have too many questions about my miraculous healing if they did.

“You’ve grown on me,” I admitted. “I didn’t want to see you get dead.”

Puck stared at me for a long moment as if trying to pull all my secrets from my head. I fought the urge to squirm.

“Are you hungry?” Locke asked, cutting into the awkward silence. “I can go get you something?—”

“She talks first,” Ender snarled, shoving up from the couch. “You might be hiding your scent now, but we all smelled it. You’re a wolf. A wolf and a fucking caster.”

Hybrids were rare, and many pregnancies didn’t take. Some were old school enough to believe hybrids were an abomination and should be wiped from the Earth. As Ender prowled toward the bed, I wondered if he was one of them.

King stood, giving Ender a shove. “Back off. She’s just waking up.”

“She’s been lying to all of us,” he growled. “And you just want to feed her tea and cookies?”

Shit. Shit. Shit .

My scent shields must’ve failed when I was unconscious. “I haven’t lied to you.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Ender’s amber eyes flashed gold. “You’re doing it again now.”

I jutted out my chin in defiance. “I’m sorry, did you ask me if I was a wolf? If I was a caster? I don’t think you did.”

His jaw worked back and forth, and anger flitted over his expression.

Puck clapped him on the shoulder. “She’s got you there. We never asked.”

A little relief slid through me at that, but I knew I was screwed. I knew my father had put a price on my head. He wanted me delivered back to him alive so he could torture me all over again. It seemed Ender would be more than happy to do it.

Kingston turned to me. “Why do you hide your true nature? Being a hybrid is nothing to be ashamed of.”

I let out a huff of air. “Not everyone agrees with you. How could I know your pack’s opinion on hybrids?”

I was hedging, and I knew it. It wasn’t fair, but I didn’t have any other choice. Besides, I’d become a master at half-truths and carefully dodged questions.

“Tell us about the scars.”

The words came from the man farthest from me, the darkest of the bunch. The only light in him was his eyes, a blue-green swirling now as they locked onto me. But even with those hypnotizing colors…

The scars. Fucking hell.

I had no believable explanation. It was why I worked so hard to keep them covered.

Puck’s brow furrowed as he looked down at me. “Are you running from the person who did it?”

My mouth clamped shut so hard my teeth nipped my bottom lip, the copper taste of blood filling my mouth.

Brix stood, his movements like a panther’s as he prowled toward me. “Your body is covered in scar tissue. Burns, cuts, whip marks.”

I cringed, each word bringing forth a memory.

Those blue-green eyes narrowed on me, the knife tattooed next to one flexing with the movement. “Who. Did. This. To. You?”

It was as if the temperature in the room had dropped twenty degrees. Brix’s fury didn’t run to fire; it was like ice—and currently pointed directly at me.

It was too much to bear. My jaw loosened, my tongue moving before I could stop it as I gave him the only truth I could. “Evil incarnate.”