Her head jerks up, scanning the trees as if expecting another shadow to rise from the snow. “Where?”
“That way,” I say, pointing weakly toward the north ridge. “A hut. Aurora cast a spell over it. Keeps it hidden.”
Willow gives me a determined nod before we move together, her steps uneven, my weight heavy against her smaller frame. Every breath burns, every heartbeat a reminder that I’m bleeding out, but she doesn’t stop until the outline of the old wooden hut appears through the trees. The spell around it shimmers faintly with an invisible veil only the wolves and witches can sense.
Inside, it’s dark but warm, the air thick with the faint scent of pine and dust. Willow lowers me onto the only bed in the hut, her hands trembling as she releases me.
“Med kit,” I mutter, nodding toward the kitchenette and the only cabinet above the sink.
Willow rushes over there and finds a metal box—the old med kit—and a bundle of dried herbs hanging by the window.
“You don’t need to—”
“Quiet,” she murmurs, kneeling beside me again. Her voice is soft, but the command in it leaves no room for argument. She works quickly, ripping my shirt to expose the damage. The cool air bites at my skin, but then her fingers follow, tracing the bruises along my ribs with careful pressure, warming my flesh.
I suck in a breath when her palm brushes over a gash.
“This one's pretty deep. I'm gonna have to stitch you up.”
“You don't have to, Willow,” I urge with a hand on her wrist, but she squirms free and goes to work.
“I don't have to, but I'm your only option,” she huffs. “Unless you know how to use a needle.”
Her tone is sharper than I’ve ever heard it. She reaches for the herbs, grinding them between her fingers. The earthy scent of mint and yarrow fills the air as she mixes it with water from a flask, dipping a cloth into the paste before pressing it against my wound.
I suck in a breath through my teeth, my muscles tensing when she pricks the needle through my skin. “You do know I'm an alpha, right?” I grate out through gritted teeth. “It would have healed on its own.”
She glances up briefly, rolling her eyes. “You'd bleed out before that happened.”
For a fleeting second, the tension shifts as we stare into each other's eyes, and something fragile flickers in the air. Her breath grazes my skin as she leans closer, stitching the torn flesh with careful, steady hands. Her hair brushes against my shoulder, smelling faintly of lavender and frost. My pulse quickens, the warmth between us building even as the cold seeps through the walls of the hut.
When she’s done, she ties the last knot and leans back, wiping her hands on her skirt. “That should hold.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, meaning more than the words could hold.
But she doesn’t answer. Her gaze is fixed on the small window beyond the kitchenette, her arms crossing over her chest as she straightens up. Outside, the forest hums with an unsettling stillness. The faint shimmer of shadows moves between the trees, indicating the demons outside, circling, searching for the source of magic used tonight.
“We can’t leave yet,” I say quietly. “They won't leave until sunrise.”
Willow nods, but she’s distant, her jaw tight. I know she’s upset, angry that I found her, angry that she had to use the power she’s been determined to deny all this time.
“Why did you run?” I ask, my voice low, as curiosity sets in.
She doesn’t turn. “I've been trapped all my life. I couldn't do it anymore.”
Her words slice sharper than my wounds. I swallow the ache rising in my throat as I sink into the pillows. “You’re not trapped, Willow. You never were.”
Silence.
I sigh and allow the exhaustion to close my eyelids. The ache in my ribs throbs with each breath, but it’s not what wakes me when I hear her soft gasp a moment later.
“Willow…?”
She’s still near the window, but keeled over this time, one hand clutching her stomach while the other braces against the counter. Her breaths are heavy and uneven, her face contorted with pain when she slowly turns toward me.
That's when her scent hits me, sweeter than anything I've ever smelled, wilder than my wildest fantasies.
Willow is in heat….
