Then, I reach out to her through our bond. The iron wall is there, immovable as ever. But I don’t press. Instead, I give it a gentle mental stroke, like coaxing a feral cat.
Instantly, Anassa’s energy shifts, prickling with interest—or perhaps hunger. Her body is a dim gray shape in the shadows, but I see it move. Yellow eyes turn to me, gleaming faintly.
“Hi,” I murmur.
Her gaze sharpens, catching the fading light as a flash of silvery night glow.
Slowly, she rises, emerging soundlessly from the darkness, each measured step a reminder of her lethal power. In the twilight, her fur looks like liquid silver, so similar to my transformed hair.
My heart pounds in my chest as her shaggy head comes into view.
A trickle of feeling travels through our bond. Anassa’s lips pull back from her fangs in what might be a snarl—or a chilling lupine smile.
There’s no welcome in her eyes. Not that I expected any. But there is something…
The iron wall cracks open. Not much—just enough that there’s a stirring of direct communication.
No words. Just a tangle of conflicting impulses.
Interest. Disdain. Ancient wisdom warring with primal fury.
Cold sweat gathers along my spine as she stalks slowly toward me. It’s a struggle not to cringe away when her head sinks down to my level, lips curling back over teeth the size of daggers.
As her hot breath gusts against my face, I get a clear pulse of feeling from her:
I rejected her over and over, andnowI want to make friends?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The evening shadows stretch into night as Anassa lowers her head to scent the bundle of mountain sage I brought for her. Moonlight spills across the terrace, gilding her fur in an otherworldly blue-white glow.
I hold my breath, heart thundering inside my ribs, caught between fear and desperate hope.
Through the bond comes another shift. The impenetrable iron wall seems to thin, becoming permeable, like silk rippling in the wind.
Her voice fills my head with startling clarity, deep and rich as aged wine, carrying the weight of centuries.
“You finally wish to be here.”
Each word rolls thunderously through my consciousness, stealing my breath with its raw power and beauty.
Over the past month, I’ve imagined many scenarios where Anassa and I finally talked, communicated, connected. But I never actually put a voice to her words. Hearing her speak in my mind for the first time is like seeing the sun rise across a field of ice.
It paints the world in colors I didn’t even know existed.
An incredible sense of rightness unravels inside my chest. This whole time, our fractured bond was chafing against me in a way that I didn’t even realize or sense until now, when it’s finally disappeared. It’s like sitting down after a long day at the laundry and realizing I’d been ignoring my entire body’s aches.
It’s relief—stunning, world-shattering relief.
Eventually, I’m able to take a breath, and I realize what she’s said—a statement, not a question. A protest rises up inside of me, and I start to claim that I’ve wished to be here the whole time.
A ripple of amusement—heramusement—washes my denial away.
“Do not pretend. Before, you fought against what you are. Against what we could be. But you’ve decided not to fight any longer.”
The words sting with truth. And more.
Through our connection, I feel Anassa’s assessment of me—a surprisingly gentle dressing down that pinpoints every time I’ve pushed her away. Every time I’ve doubted her, fought her, rejected her.
