Page 10 of Witchblood

“I enjoy cooking,” Liam said.

“I suppose you like showering withwitchborn,too?” It was a taunt. Alpha’s didn’t do the lowly things in the pack. And I wasn’t even pack. If he thought taking care of me was going to get him something, he was sorely mistaken. Prodding him was a bit like poking a bear with a stick. If he lashed out at least I could see beyond whatever game he was playing.

“I take care of all that are mine.”

“I’m not yours,” I said. “You are not my Alpha.”

He was silent for a long minute, like he was debating what to say. “You’re in my territory. That makes you mine until you heal and decide to move on,” he said very matter of fact. Stupid alphas were always making demands and statements of power. He didn’t get how much danger having me in his pack was.

“I shouldn’t stay.” Not even for another hour, but couldn’t help that my voice sounded uncertain even to me.

“I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere soon.” He finished the braid and put the brush away. “Eat. Then I’ll help you back to bed.”

“I can get back to bed on my own.”

“Hmm.”

I growled at him. He was so annoying.

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a T-shirt. He rolled up the shirt until he had the hole in the neck open wide and put it over my head. I had to put the fork down, and shoved my arms through the sleeves. The shirt was huge. I was sure it would fall past my hips if I stood up.

“No sweats. I sent Dylan out to find something for you to wear. None of my wolves are close to your size.” Liam’s eyes flicked to my mismatched, overly worn mass of clothes. “We washed those, but they are coming apart.”

“They’re fine,” I protested. They were all I had. I already owed this man a lot for his help, the use of his witch, which I knew wasn’t free, and protection while I was in his territory. Racking up a debt to him just meant more damage he could justify doing down the road. The fae were known to enslave anyone who owed them a debt. I’d seen an alpha do it a time or ten as well.

Liam squatted down to tug the shirt over my hips and steal away the towel. “Eat, then bed. That concussion isn’t going to heal without rest. Your pupils are still huge. Can you see okay?”

“It’s fine.” Though my vision was a little blurry at the edges. I sighed, because he was right. And now that I knew about the stitches, I could feel them itchy and tight in my skin. I finished most of the eggs, the fruit, and all the juice. Was a little sad that I hadn’t been brought coffee, but since I had a concussion that made sense as the caffeine could cause more damage as I was healing. It was the first time in almost a year I missed my collection of alchemy books. There had been a large mix of science and magic in those volumes. Probably something safe I could have used to speed my healing. I could take energy from the land, but hated to tax it that way when humanity was already such a parasite. But maybe there were other options I hadn’t yet discovered. Not that I really had the time to sit around and read. Felix would come for me soon.

Liam took the tray away, and I hobbled toward the bed. He was back before I could get two steps closer to it, lifting me, and wordlessly setting me carefully on the bed. He shoved the blankets aside, pulling them over my legs, then smoothing them into place. “Rest. One of my wolves will be outside the door. Just call if you need something.”

“Did you find the wolves?” I asked him before he could leave. “The ones that tried to kill me?” Were they sent by Felix? That thought instilled a fear in me I hadn’t realized was still possible after all this time. Maybe they’d been hired by Hugo, the vampire from Chicago. Wolves sometimes worked for vampires or even fae if their alpha wasn’t strong enough to provide for them. I’d met a lot of weak alpha’s as I’d run across the country. DidApaknow just how many packs were struggling due to bad leadership? Being the most dominant did not mean being the smartest.

“No,” Liam said after a quiet minute. “But we’re still looking. Rest. You’re safe here.”

It wasn’t a lie. I could tell if most anyone was lying. He believed what he said. If only I could believe it too.

Chapter 5

The sheets must have been spritzed with lavender, which was why I’d fallen asleep hard. When I’d lived in the Volkov pack I’d had a small camping trailer parked on the Volkov’s land, surrounded with lavender, chamomile, and lemon balm. All things I’d planted and worked hard to maintain. In the cooler months I’d left the windows open so the scent would permeate the air with tranquility. It even worked on the wolves as the handful who trusted me enough to come to me for minor alchemy needs always seemed soothed by the scent.

At sixteen I’d barely survived the tension of living in the Volkov’s home and was tired of the constant bickering his family had over me.Apahad given me the little plot of land, expecting it to keep me distracted with my gardening and alchemy. I’d purchased the camper instead, and parked it on the land to live away from the trouble. He said nothing when I moved out. He’d been unhappy when a year later I’d decided to drop out of school and test for my GED. I was already making a modest living by then. I’d grown and sold my own tea and pastries for a few years. Creating blends of tea thatApaclaimed could calm the most agitated wolf. Not that I’d ever gotten close to one of his rescues before he subdued them. I didn’t have a death wish.

Apawould often stop by for tea, leave with packages of baked goods, and encourage me to continue my exploration of alchemy and herbalism. Many of the massive collection of books I had were given to me by him. Things found by a friend on a trip and sent to him or something he acquired while visiting another pack. I’d never thought it odd at the time that he just happened to find alchemy books in a world were science had become the rule to explain the unexplained. Only now, when I traveled from place to place, did I realize he must have sought out those books, because I found none anywhere. My library of books crammed into the tiny space of my home between the hundreds of tea canisters was something I missed every day.

I must have been dreaming of home because I awoke to the sound of light humming, thinking for a minute I was back in my camper bed, surrounded by lavender fields.Apahad sometimes done that. Escaped to my house, sitting and singing softly while I napped or worked on some concoction. My silence never seemed to bother him. Maybe my presence helped him like it did the other old wolves, soothing his beast.

The Volkov was old. Legend to be the oldest of all werewolves. There were no omegas in his pack other than me. The time he spent in my camper had become a hot button issue among his pack. They whispered about him being inaccessible and doting on a non-wolf. Shirking his responsibilities, I recalled overhearing once. None dared to say it to his face.

WhenApasang it was often sad old songs. Some in Russian, some in Welsh, some in Swedish. I knew he spoke dozens of languages. Not all of the emotion could have been inflection of the languages. I didn’t speak any of them to know if they were really sad songs, or if it was just something heavy in his heart. I’d been too afraid to ask.

In the dream,Apasat on the edge of the couch which folded down into my bed. There wasn’t really any place else to sit. Just the futon. I stood at the counter preparing tea. It was a lavender blend with hints of orange and mint,Apa’s favorite blend. He’d have run out soon after I left, though there was more in my camper.

“Only no one can get into your camper,”Apareminded me, though he didn’t take a break in his song. “Had to tear up the ground just to get it to move.”

The comment confused me. Why would my trailer need to move? The ward had beenApa’s suggestion when I moved out of his home. Protection against anyone who attacked his pack, or from the pack itself, though he’d never suggested as much.

“I would never have let the pack harm you,”Apaprotested.