Blood has been pounding through my veins, and there is an urge to claim and comfort, one that strains against my pants with surprising insistence. But what the cock wants and what the mind needs can sometimes be two different things.
As I head out of the cave and trek back to the camp, I see her from several dozen paces away. Estela is indeed checking a woman’s arm, as is Ulla.
The women watch her with that same unsettling silence as she bandages wounds and Ulla sings them closed. She must sense my coming because she turns and smiles at me with the same shy, weary sadness that has been pasted on her face since we first saw each other.
A lump rises in my throat.
“Amor?1,” I say in the human tongue. “I need you to help me with something.”
Estela’s finely arched brows draw together, and a few of the others exchange knowing looks behind her back.
I ignore them.
They are allowed to think whatever they will about me, what is most important to me is a moment alone.
“Here,” she says, handing a few things off to one of the women with dark hair who they call Melisa. I’m surprised she got away from Niht and Ra'Salore so quickly.
Melisa smirks at me as I hold out an arm and wrap it around my mate.
My hand grazes her cloak and cold flesh. The Fuegorra keeps her warm and safe from frostbite, but the itchy white fabric underneath is… bothersome.
“You should change,” I say conversationally.
She shakes her head. “Between you and the cloak, I am warm enough. Any spare clothing needs to be used for them and their wounds.”
I purse my lips, but I don’t say anything more. We have had this conversation more than once, and it has never ended positively.
We make it a few more paces toward the cave when she gives me a sidelong gaze.
“What did you need help with again?”
I take a deep breath and run a hand over her now-braided hair. I can’t stop touching her, reminding myself that she is real and we are going home. Everything is not fixed, but it’s… gentler now that she is near.
“I didn’t say.”
She stops at the entrance, her face draining of color.
“Teo, I have to—they need me—” She’s breathless, but we’re almost there.
I can’t let her run off again. Not yet.
“They will still be there in an hour or two,” I say, finally reaching the cave and pulling her inside.
She takes a deep breath and leans into my arm.
I immediately feel her discomfort. It’s highlighted in every part of her face and punctuated with the sad song that plays in the air.
I prod her mind and find it carefully closed. Doubt enters my heart.
“Do you still want to leave?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
After a few moments, I guide her over to the bedroll on the ground and sit down across from her. The silence between us is almost as thick as mud, only eased by the low mating song flowing from our Fuegorras. I look at how she nervously glances at the warm spring, confused.
“Are you… all right?” I ask after a few moments.
She looks at me with large eyes, and I realize she’s trying not to cry. “I am fine. I just want to help those who are coming with us.”
