Page 81 of Unveil

But this is new. This soft, fragile side. If what I just saw is another facet of her, one I have a feeling few people have had the privilege to see, then I want to know that side just as much, maybe more. I want to be the peace to Luna’s fury, and the fact that she curls into me now, seeking me for comfort, is all the confirmation I need to know Fate has named her mine.

I can practically feel the energy buzzing through her, and I wince every time she shudders like she’s trying to visibly rein it in. I let instinct tell me how to ground her—humming, singing, talking about nonsense—filling the silence like I can tell she’s fighting not to do.

“Let’s see,” I say. “Another rule of the Fury hollers…”

Her eyes flick to mine, and I bite back my smile. She’d gone somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, but I knew that’d return her to me.

“We already went over the leaves, name in the woods, paint marks,” I continue. “Oh, here’s one. If it’s silent, you’re not the only predator.”

She repeats it softly. “Silent… not the only predator…”

“That’s right,” I nod. “So if I ever tell you to run, you run, alright? No matter what. I’ll find you.”

She frowns. “Promise? I’m not very good at the woods yet.”

I can’t hide my grin this time. “Yeah, I promise.”

“Okay. Then I promise too.”

If I have anything to say about it, she’ll never have to run from danger again. But nothing out here is ever guaranteed. Her trusting me is half the battle. The other half is arming her.

She’s retreated back into her mind, staring unseeing at the embers in the cast-iron stove, so I clear my throat.

“By the way,” I start. “I don’t think you’ll kill me anymore.”

“What?” She blinks, dragging her eyes away from the fire.

“I don’t think you’ll kill me anymore. Whichmeans, I think you’ve earned crossbow privileges tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

Damn, I was hoping that’d work. But she doesn’t play back, and she searches my face for so long I nearly miss our next step. Finally, she breaks her silence.

“I’m sorry I’ve been off.”

“It’s okay,” I say quickly. “No one can beonall the time. You’ve been through enough the past week alone.”

She winces. “Yeah. Well, this happens sometimes. It’s just never been this bad. Today was too much.” Her voice wavers, then drops to a whisper. “It was terrifying.”

“Fuck, if all this is because of what happened at the lake?—”

She shakes her head, wincing. “I’m not talking about that. I don’twantto talk about it yet. It’s too much right now. I need to feel everything quietly before I feel it aloud.”

I nod, chest tight. “I can’t say I totally understand. But we’ll need to talk about it eventually.” Guilt carves deeper in my chest, and the words tumble out before I can stop them. “I got carried away. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I woke up beside you this morning?—”

Her eyes widen, and I stutter to a stop as she stills.

“I know what to do.” Her gaze snaps to mine. “I need to go to sleep.”

I frown. Something in the way she saidneeddoesn’t sit right with me, but I let it go.

“Okay, we’ll go to sleep.”

I walk her to the outhouse and back, never letting her out of my sight. She’s calmer now, but she still fidgets like her skin doesn’t fit. I can’t help being on high alert, analyzing her every move.

I’veneverseen her like this. On edge. Euphoric one second, vicious the next, breakable last. Like she could implode or explode at any moment, the slightest wrong touch enough to set her off.

When we’re back inside, I pull my dry shirt from its rafter and hold it up.