I roll onto my side and find Omar watching me intently with generous, caring eyes.
“To my people the blood wolf is sacred—a being who is able to commune with all of wolfkind. They symbolize that we are all born of the same mother, blessed by the same gods. Even if alphas have put up walls to keep us separate.”
“One pack under the moon,” I whisper in response.
“What was that, cuz?”
I press my lips together. “Mm, nothing.” I roll back flat on the cot.
“Okay, we should sleep now anyhow. I just wanted to share that with you, in case you thought you were some kind of monster or whatever.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Omar shuffles around a little, getting comfortable again.
“Wolves like us know what being misunderstood feels like,” he says, sounding sleepy and withdrawn all of a sudden. “I just don’t want you to worry.”
“Okay,” I say, not sure what a proper response is.
“Night, cuz.”
“Good night.”
Omar is asleep in a matter of minutes, snoring gently in a way that’s sort of adorable, but I can’t get comfortable. The cot is stiff underneath me, the quilt too scratchy, my pillow not the right height. And out there Jasper is alone, in the cold, feeling responsible.
The last words Omar said play on a loop in my brain:“Wolves like us know what being misunderstood feels like.”Have I misunderstood Jasper this whole time? Have I misread his intentions?
I roll onto my side and Omar sniffs and moves but doesn’t wake up. With the bed creaking beneath me, I push up into a sitting position. My shoes are at the end of the mattress, and I slip them on as quietly as wolfily possible. Holding my breath, I sneak past Omar—not sure why but certain I don’t want to wake him—and make my way to the door.
Ice-cold wind wraps me in a freezing torrent and flakes of snow whip my cheeks the second I step outside. I shut the cabin door behind me, hoping I’ve not disturbed anyone’s sleep. Jasper’s tent is only a few yards from where I’m standing, but in the blizzard that’s picked up it’s hard to see, obscured by a foggy curtain. From inside the tent, a soft-orange light is emitting a warm glow. I wrap my arms around myself, brace against the cold, and head toward the light.
My teeth are chattering by the time I reach the tent, and my fingers are already so numb I fumble with the zipper trying to make my way inside. Suddenly, the zip slides open, pulled easily by Jasper, who lifts the flap and stares at me like he’s just discovered a wild bear tearing at his shelter.
“What are you doing?” he asks, but I can’t respond, I just stand and shiver.
Despite my silence and the look on his face, Jasper opens the tent further and I slip inside.
There’s no room to stand, so I end up crawling into Jasper’s space and find myself sitting, knees pressed to my chest, on a swathe of blankets and pillows. A lantern sits in the corner, casting warm light and deep shadows across the tent walls; in the opposite corner a small space heater is whirring away, the cord stretching back out through the door. And in front of me Jasper is sitting up, his legs buried in a sleeping bag and the pile of quilts, his hair mussed, his cheeks rosy, and a confused, stern look in his eyes.
“Is something wrong? Are you in pain?”
I laugh a little and shake my head. “No.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says. “You shouldn’t…be near me.”
“Jasper—”
“No, Max. I saw the way it hurt you, the way I hurt you just by being close to you. I swore I would never and…I’m the reason you—”
“You’re not, though. You aren’t responsible for any of it. You couldn’t stop the blood moon, just the same as you couldn’t stop me chasing the thing I want most in the world. It was my decision to come here. It was my decision not to give up. Yeah, you’ve been a jerk and you’ve done things that have made me feel not great, but nothing is going to feel as bad or hurt as much as not getting to see you.”
I pause, my chest heaving, fingers trembling. I edge forward slightly, closing the gap between us.
“Not getting to be near you.”
I reach over and place a hand on top of Jasper’s.
“Not getting to be with you.”
