“I did,” he says with only slightly more composure than me. “You sent a wildcat to kill me, Sabine!”
It’s only then that I fully take stock of Wolf’s wounds. Besides the scratches on his neck, deep punctures in his bare chest near his ribcage ooze blood. His hair is never tamed, but now it’s complete havoc.
The edge of panic fades in my chest, but my anger doesn’t. I buck my hips as I writhe.
Wolf briefly closes his eyes as though pained. “Stop moving, Sabine. I like you squirming under me too damn much.”
My body goes slack. A bird calls far in the distance. A rock digs into my back. The fight fades out of me as the sobering realization hits that it’s over. Wolf found me. Was I a fool for ever thinking there was a chance he wouldn’t?
Myst paws the dirt, frustrated. A strong breeze rattles the trees, dropping pine cones. It feels as though the whole forest is as charged as I am.
And then all my anger comes to a head, and I start sobbing.
I cry thick, ugly tears. Tears I don’t care if Wolf judges me for. I’m crying for the wildcat. I’m crying for my own lost freedom. I’m crying because I never had any real damn freedom to lose in the first place.
Wolf’s hands slacken around my wrists. He huffs an exhale up at the sky.
“Fuck,” he murmurs.
He pushes off me but doesn’t release my wrists. As I sob into my forearm, hiding my face so I don’t have to show my defeat to the world, he tugs me into his lap and wraps a hand around my back. He doesn’t offer comforting words. A monster like him knows nothing about how to comfort a person, and there’s nothing anyone could say, anyway, to take away the pain.
‘Sorry that I captured you, now let me take you to your villainous husband?’
But he holds me like he wants to help me, and despite everything, there is solace in his arms. It’s simple biology. Wolf is huge, and with his arms folded around me, I feel shielded from danger.
But of course, that’s a farce—he’s the danger.
I’m too exhausted to do anything but slump against him and bury my face in his chest. Physical contact is not something I’m very familiar with, unless it involves pain. This is all new to me. Being held. Every part of my body flush against someone. Feeling his chest rise and fall beneath my cheek.
He strokes a hand down the remains of my braid, which is mostly undone by now. His touch is rough by nature, though I can tell he’s trying to be gentle. He just doesn’t know how.
That’s when I have to admit that for as angry as I am, Wolf Bowborn is not my enemy. He might be my jailor, but he wasn’t the one who commanded this twisted ride. It’s his master who deserves my ire. Rian Valvere. The Lord of Liars. My future husband.
Once my sobs taper off, Wolf brushes my hair aside and says, close enough to my ear that his lips scuff my temple, “Don’t try to escape again, Sabine. The Valveres will send more than just me to hunt you down. They’ll punish you. You don’t know what that family is capable of.”
His face remains kiss-close to mine. He’s breathing in deeply like he wants to drink me up, sweat and tears and all. Like he hungers to know how I taste.
I pull back, searching his dark eyes, trying to read him.
What game is he playing? Does he truly believe he’s protecting me?
“I’m going to let you go now,” he says measuredly. “Don’t run. You know it won’t end well.”
He raises his hands, and I scoot out of his lap. Slowly, he stands. Myst has settled down. She exerted herself even more than I did.
Wolf looks at me expectantly, and I nod my head in obedience.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
He frowns at my bruised feet. One look at Myst tells him she’s too exhausted to carry me. So, without warning, he scoops me up. I let out a surprised squeak as he carts me in his arms like I weigh nothing. I’m grateful for his borrowed shirt; otherwise, he’d have his hands all over my naked body. As it is, his rough palm cups my thighs as he carries me through the forest to a small clearing at the side of a stream.
“Stay,” he commands, plunking me down on the mossy bank. “I’m going back for Myst. Bathe, if the water isn’t too cold for you.”
I can tell in the way he’s carrying himself that he’s exhausted, too. He’s holding his hurt shoulder stiffly. There are lines etched around his mouth.
“I won’t go anywhere,” I say in a hoarse voice. There’s no point in running again. I certainly don’t intend to get another animal killed, like the wildcat.
He tromps away, leaving me by the stream. Wet grass slides against my legs. A mirthless laugh bursts out of me, turning into a sob. Wiping my face, I climb into the water. It’s frigid, but my body is already numb, and it feels good to wash mud and muck off my skin. I shake out Wolf’s shirt and hang it on a branch, unwilling to wash it and spend the rest of the morning naked while I wait for it to dry.
In a few minutes, I hear Wolf return with Myst.
“Sabine?” he calls from a distance, respecting my privacy.
“Let Myst off the rope. She won’t run.”
He seems hesitant, but does as I ask. Myst picks her way to the edge of the stream, blinking down at me.
Come in, I say. You’re even filthier than me.
As she splashes into the water, I cup water with my hands to pour over her back. Using my fingers as a comb, I wash away the mud that I rubbed on her sides to disguise her. I feel so stupid now for thinking I could outsmart a huntsman with Wolf’s skills. His godkiss is one of the more potent ones I’ve seen. It makes me wonder why, out of everyone, the gods chose to bless him.
He can keep you safe, Myst says, as though she knows who is in my mind.
My eyebrows raise as I scoop another handful of water. Oh, so what, you’re suddenly in favor of the man who just hunted us like beasts?
No. But he is strong. He is loyal. He will be loyal to you, if you make him.
The water drains out of my cupped hands as I figure out what to make of this. It’s so like a horse to think of safety and nothing else. Yes, Wolf is physically capable of being our protector, but the man is a brute. He’s the last person I would trust with my fate.
Well, what does a horse know? I quip as I climb out of the stream. You can finish washing yourself.
Myst rolls in the shallow water as I wriggle back into Wolf’s dry shirt, then tromp a dozen paces to where he has a fire going. The flames’ warmth stirs some life back into me. Wordlessly, Wolf tosses me half a loaf of bread and some cheese. I tear into the meal ravenously.
He watches me steadily. Overhead, the sun is rising. He takes a bite of his own bread. “We’ll spend the day here so you and Myst can sleep, then return to the forest road tomorrow.”
“How considerate,” I mumble around a mouthful. “I’m surprised you aren’t chomping at the bit to get back to your precious master.”
He doesn’t take the bait. I wish he would—I’d rather have his quips than his pity.
The silence is painful as my meal settles heavy in my stomach, giving me cramps as the morning stretches on. Wolf busies himself with sharpening his knives as I stew in my feelings until, finally, I yawn into my palm. Exhaustion has a way of dulling anger.
Wolf glances at the yawn, then clears his throat. “I’ve been patient, Sabine, but the time for games is over. You’re never running away—you get that now, don’t you? I’ll always catch you. Always. So, tell me your lover’s plan.”