His eyes cut to me, mouth pulling up on one side. “Really wanna hear this?”
“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
“Only in wolf form. He was getting too close to the camp and wouldn’t leave. Had to protect everyone here, otherwise we typically leave bears alone. Not only are they formidable creatures, but there’s not as many of them in the province.”
“Never imagined the pack being so environmentally conscious.”
“Wearethe environment. It’d be stupid not to be.” He kicks one leg up over the other and slouches deeper into the chair. He seems exhausted—not that I’d tell him so.
“Well, this witch appreciates it. It tears my soul a little bit when tourists toss garbage aside. Mortals have no idea how to truly respect the planet or any of what Hecate does for them.”
He makes a noise of agreement but returns to glaring at the empty fire pit. I finish eating and then adopt the position I held earlier: knees drawn up to my chest to make myself as small as possible as nighttime chill permeates the cabin.
“What happens now?”
He flinches, and I swear I practicallyfeelthe way his heart leaps in his chest. If such a strange notion were possible. “You’ll live here for the remainder of the week.”
“Here-here?”
“Yes.” A growl slips into his tone as his brows come together.
“No more rope, though,” I check, glancing at where it was discarded this morning. “No more assuming I’ll run away?”
“No more rope,” he agrees softly. “The others have been instructed to treat you as a guest. If someone doesn’t, tell me and I’ll handle them.”
“Sure.” As if he’d take my side over one of his own, regardless of who was in the wrong.
He eyes my plate before launching to his feet with more energy than I’ve seen from him since entering. He stretches, pulling my attention to the bare skin of his chest—the muscles defined by his time as a wolf.
“Do you need the bathroom before I head out?”
I stand, trailing him to the door. “Head out where?”
“Patrol. Hunting. This is when we gather more prey for the winter months when we’re in the mountain caves. Lots of animals go into hibernation, so coming across food is more difficult.”
They really think of anything. Mom always made the pack sound like stupid animals, but they’re not.
Twice now, he’s mentioned the caves, and I’m growing curious. Seeing them would be another lesson on pack life before I’m Twilight Grove’s prey. But I’ll never ask. Ryder wouldn’t show an outsider his hideouts, nor are we friends. So my thoughts remain inside thoughts only as we walk the same path as yesterday to the bathroom area.
“In the morning, I can bring you to bathe if you’d like,” he offers when we reach the treeline.
A bath sounds fucking fantastic, but also… “I’m a water witch. I create my own shower.”
He blinks.
“Magick,” I intone in aduhtone. “I could make everyone here a damn good shower if they wanted. But I’d need a space to create one in, unless you want your cabin floor soaked.”
Ryder has the bravery to look a little dismayed, and then he leaves me to my needs.
Afterwards, he begins the route back to the cabins. The moon above glistens through the trees, lighting up a patch of woods. I step into it, but it doesn’t escape my notice that Ryder keeps two feet between us, which puts him outside the light. The mood, the setting, it’s tense—charged with words unspoken. It draws goosebumps up my arms with the feeling of being responsible for the silence.
“You’ll make a kickass High Priestess one day, Carina.”
He said it so quietly, I assume he’s fucking with me. That I made it up in my head. That he didn’t give me acompliment.
“You’re not selfish,” he continues, knocking away at the wall between us. The wall created by being different species. “You think of others above yourself. If you were smart, you’d take your mother’s advice and hide. Instead, you’re here.”
My steps halt, and I stare at him through the darkness. He’s difficult to see fully—just the occasional flash of silver. “If I took my mom’s advice, Twilight Grove may kill you all.”
