The bond carries it to me before he finishes the sentence. Not anger. Concern, wearing the clothes of an order, his patience already thinning.
I shift.
The change drops me onto my human knees in the moss. I straighten slowly, my arms folding tight across my bare chest even though we’re alone behind the birches. The cold air hits everywhere at once. I am entirely undressed, and so is he, and my wolf is rumbling inside me in a way that is profoundly unhelpful.
Lucas can’t seem to keep his eyes on my face.
I watch him try. I watch his gaze drop to my collarbone, slide once down the line of my arm where it crosses over my breast, and then snap back up to my eyes with what is clearly an act of will.
A cruel sense of satisfaction warms me up. Good.
“I can do it,” I say.
“Sienna.”
“I can. I’m slower than usual, but I’m keeping up.”
He sighs heavily. His eyes drop again, catch on the mark at my collarbone, and stay there this time. The black tendril has clearly crept another fraction of an inch since this morning. I don’t need to look in a mirror myself; I can see him measuring it.
“Tell me the truth.”
“Lucas.”
“Tell me.”
The bond pulls tight. I’m not sure I could lie to him even if I wanted to. He would know.
“It burns,” I admit quietly. “In wolf form. Every stride pulls at it. And the longer I push the worse it gets.” I look at the ground. “I’m fine for short bursts. Hours of running is too much.”
He absorbs that for a moment. His eyes have come back to mine, but I can’t quite name what’s behind them.
“I’ll carry you.”
“Lucas…”
“In my wolf form. You ride on my back. We make better time, and you are not running yourself raw to keep up with us. I can carry you without breaking stride.”
I open my mouth to argue. He gives me a look, and I shut it again, annoyed.
He bends to the bag at my ankle and pulls out a bundle of folded clothes. He holds them out to me.
“Dress,” he says. “I’ll shift.”
I take the clothes.
He turns his back to me before he shifts, and I’m not sure if it’s for my privacy or for his own discipline.
I dress quickly. My travel clothes are soft, warm against the chill of my still-sweaty skin. By the time I’ve pulled the shirt over my head, Lucas is in wolf form again, his coat dark against the pale moss.
He lowers his shoulder.
I climb on. My fingers take hold of the thick fur at his ruff. Legs tightening at his ribs, I settle against the warm column of his back. He waits a beat to be sure of me, then walks us out from behind the trees.
The others lift their heads as we come back into the clearing. Violet’s wolf gives an approving huff. Darius’s does not comment.
Lillian is already on her feet, pulling herself out of the grass without a sound.
Lucas pushes off into a smooth lope, and the ache in my chest eases. I let my forehead rest against his neck and close my eyes.
