The three of us watch him go for a moment, as does every other person in the training yard.
Then I spit some blood into the sand. “If I turn up dead, you know who to hunt in your dramatic quest for revenge,” I tell the two women, then mentally say goodbye to Anassa.
I follow Stark silently, awkwardly walking through the path he’s cleared through wolves and riders. I hold my head as high as I can while covered in blood and struggling to walk in a straight line. There’s no space to overthink how pathetic I likely look to my fellow Rawbonds right now; I’m too busy bracing myself for Stark’s scolding.
He’s in my head already, telling me that I fucked up by yelling at Jonah, that I should’ve been worried about my own pack, that I made a fool out of myself. Which criticism will he start with?
Our boots echo once we’re inside. Stark’s hands are still tight. His shoulders are practically at his ears. There’s a wildness to him that could mean the criticism I’m going to get is going to be unnecessarily intense.
He slams his office door shut behind us with a bang and I wince.
I wish I didn’t care. I wish I could shrug all of this off and act like nothing could ever hurt me. But when Stark turns to look at me, it’s like my stomach is going to drop from my body and smack to the floor at my feet.
He stares at me for a long moment. Glares, really, with his terrifyingly dark eyes.
Then his shoulders fall. His eyes slide shut. I watch him take a deep breath and feel like he just put something fragile in my clumsy hands without any instruction as to how not to break it.
The moment passes quickly, though.
His eyes snap open, and he joins me on my side of the room. “Turn,” he orders, and I do.
He takes hold of my shoulder briefly and forces me to step toward the round mirror that’s beside me.
I grimace. Anassa might have healed my nose, but it’s set at a horrible angle. My entire face looks different, rearranged by Jonah’s violence. I resist the instinct to reach up and touch it. I resist the sting of tears prickling the back of my eyes.
It’s not just vanity. I mean, it is. It definitely is. But it’s also…
I don’t know who I am, something deep within me whispers, gazing upon my rearranged face. But I do know, don’t I? He called my name only minutes ago. Alpha Meryn. That’s who I am now. It’s who I have to be.
I steady my emotions and clench my jaw. “Guess that’s what I deserve, huh?” I say, voice strong. Dismissive, even. I’m heading off his criticism, taking control of it before it can hurt. “I’m a shit Alpha.”
“Yes,” Stark says instantly.
Ouch. I mean, I know it’s the truth, but hearing it from his lips hurts more than I’d ever admit.
My voice wavers slightly when I reply, “Aren’t you meant to be encouraging me,instructor?”
The snark falls flat. I can’t summon the teasing energy I usually use to downplay how serious this all is. But Stark doesn’t seem affected. He just stands behind me and stares into my eyes through the mirror.
“I will never lie to you,” he says, voice somber, and the words dig down deep into my bones, carving themselves into my verymarrow. Just as I can tell that he often fucking hates me, that it brings him pleasure to break me… this, too, I can tell is true.
A small shiver wracks through me and I turn toward him, deflecting. My shoulder nearly brushes his chest as I do. “Well then. Truth,” I say and touch my cheek briefly, “how bad does this look?”
His dark gaze moves over my features. I ignore the hair on the back of my neck prickling. “It’s awful,” he says simply.
Closing my eyes, I let out a soft laugh. Yep, he’s not going to lie to me.
I’d like to pretend that I don’t care how I look. That I’m a tough warrior woman who doesn’t need to feel pretty sometimes. It would be so great to be above any sense of vanity.
Alas, I’m only human. And, like it or not, looks are important here in this den of vipers.
“Fuck,” I say quietly. I open my eyes, and with a jolt realize that Stark is still staring intensely at my face.
There’s something indecisive at war in his gaze. Then, he says, “I can fix it, if you want. But it will hurt.”
It usually does, where he’s involved. And what’s the alternative, going around with a cabbage for a nose for the rest of my life?
“Break it again,”I hear Anassa say through the bond.“I’ll heal it right after.”
