9. Scent of Freedom
CHAPTER 9
Scent of Freedom
SHEN I was indeed scared of her. But not in the physical sense.
She remembered my wound.
“May I?” she asked.
I nodded, easing up my tunic and twisting it aside so she could see the wound. She bit her bottom lip between her teeth as she scooted closer, her hair frazzled and tickling the bottom of my chin. I resisted the urge to scratch and held still.
She hummed, her fingers gentle even as she drew a tiny grunt from my lips with her prodding.
“Sorry,” she said, glancing up at me. Her eyes caught mine for a moment, and it was as if she remembered who she was speaking with. Her fingers shook and she quickly looked away. Her eyes darted to my fingers hanging languid at my sides, and she swallowed. The bruise shaped like fingers on her ivory neck caused my chest to clench.
She pushed through the fear wafting from her to continue to tend the wound. “It’s healing well—” She paused, her eyes drifting further up my side where the hint of an old burn showed beneath where I held the tunic.
I quickly dropped it as her eyes widened. She pushed my tunic back up to see the entirety of the burn. She swallowed hard, tracing the edges of the raised and mottled flesh which was twice the size of her hands.
Emotions I had no name for burned in my chest as I pressed down the shivers her gentle touch tried to elicit. I did not know whether I wished to run from or embrace her touch, so I did neither. I merely sat there and watched her as she traced other wounds, but none so large as the burn.
Werewolves healed without scarring unless the wound was made with silver. By the horror in her eyes, I would say she knew that.
“What happened?” she whispered, her voice choked with empathy.
And when she glanced up, her eyes were filled with an emotion I had not seen in a long time. Understanding.
“It was a long time ago,” I said, trying to press down the emotions broiling in me.
“Some of this seems recent,” she said, leaning closer and nearly touching an upraised scab from a recent assassination. Every soul I took was tallied on my skin, but she need not know that.
She wrenched her hand back, as if realizing what she was doing. She pulled a knife from its sheath and brought it to my stomach. It would take but a twist of her wrist to disembowel me, but I held still. Maybe she would put me out of my misery. Instead, she merely used the edge to cut the rest of the stitches and pull them out one by one.
“Alia,” I whispered, unsure what to say or what to do.
She jerked upright when a low howl echoed down the dark corridors of the cavern.
“Where’s the puppy?” she asked, staring in the direction where the pup had disappeared.
I glanced down the passageway. He should have been back by now.
“Stay here,” I said standing up and walking in the direction of the howl.
“By a dragon’s butt, ya ain’t leaving me behind.”
I raised a brow and crossed my arms, leaning against the wall since my legs were still weak from whatever this little thing had done to me. “You’re weakened.”
She drew a blade, and before I moved, I felt a light tug and then a part of my cloak was attached to the solid stone wall behind me. I chuckled, pulling the blade from the wall. The thing was buried deep. It took a momentary struggle to pull it out. Not that I ever wanted her to know such a battle between the knife and I occurred.
When I turned back around, I felt her. Smelled her. She stared up at me, her eyes flashing with challenge, and she had a blade casually resting at the divot of my neck.
“Weakened?” she said, her voice just as sassy as her gaze.
It made my lips twitch. Feisty, this one. “Forgive me, I did not mean offense—” The flat of the blade dug into my neck.
“If the next words out of your mouth are not conceding that I am, in fact, not weakened, there will be trouble,” she mewed like a cute kitten.
“Down, girl.”
“Did you just tell me to?—”
“Calm down?” The next moment, I was on my knees and she was behind me, her arm around my throat. Her bicep squeezed and black spots danced in my vision. I would never tell her I was impressed. She was skilled.
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you to not tell a girl to calm down ?”
I stiffened. “The only thing my mother ever taught me was to obey,” I whispered.
She released me, coming around to see my face. Her eyes softened. “Where did you get your manners?”
“My father,” I said. And it was true. Papa taught me what it meant to be a man. Mother taught me what I never wished to be.
“You turned out. Now let’s go.”
“What about that trouble you mentioned earlier?” I asked, enjoyment in my soul as I poked the bear. That nearly caused me to miss a step. I did not feel amusement. But here we were.
She held up a knife. It was a tiny stiletto with a swirling blade made of different metals giving it a dark and light swirl. Hold up. That was my blade.
“You little minx,” I said to her back, walking quicker to catch up.
She was infuriating.
Then why are you smiling? Lycus asked. I wiped the grin from my face before the little human saw it.
Alia
His blade was nicely balanced. Granted, as a stiletto, most of the weight was in the center and therefore wasn’t great as a throwing blade, which I preferred as it held weight in the blade itself. It was still a well-made murder device. I liked it. I’d keep it. Petty, perhaps, but he deserved it.
I couldn’t get the feel of his warmth out of my head. He didn’t hug me. Didn’t take advantage of what I was offering. Didn’t even try for more. Or try to kill me when he could’ve easily snapped my spine. Instead, he’d merely held still until I moved, but I felt his body relax minutely, felt his muscles ease. I released him when I felt the need inside him retreat. He would need contact again soon, but I hoped he would be back with his own kind before that happened. I’m not sure I’d survive another hug like that.
And then there were the scars. I’d stared up at him and saw empathy there. We both knew the pain of burns and how they scarred both the body and the soul. Did someone close to him make that burn? Did he, too, feel the pain of betrayal cloaked in a wish to make that person proud?
My soul ached when I glanced up and saw again the vulnerability in his eyes and the broken soul he tried to hide.
You are sky high and don ’ t even realize it.
The voice made me grin. She was back and that meant she was safe and away from the black mages. But what the heck was she talking about?
Boy and girl meet, girl likes boy, boy likes ? —
WHOAHH! Nope, nope and nada. He ’ s a freakin ’ werewolf, you prick.
He ’ s also a man.
You are delusional.
You are obtuse, she said.
Thanks. I try.
You ’ ll see, Two-Legs. You ’ ll see.
“Nope, I won’t,” I muttered, but forgot about the werewolf hearing thing.
“What was that?” mister werewolf himself said.
“Nothing,” I grumbled.
He turned to look at me, but said nothing else.
A low growl echoed around the corner.
“Stay here,” Shen ordered.
“By the dragon’s maw, you don’t learn, do you?”
He turned to stare at me, his eyes glowing in the scant light of the torch he held before him, likely for my benefit, as I knew he could see even in this darkness. “I was not asking.” His calm voice sent a chill up my spine. It would’ve been worse if he’d yelled.
I crossed my arms, even as my legs threatened to give beneath me. A cough tried to escape the back of my throat, but I swallowed it back. “What are ya gonna do, make me?”
His eyes flashed with a darkness. His grin showed teeth beginning to morph into fangs. “Try me,” he whispered.
“High-handed, infuriating?—”
“Cur, I know. Please?”
I blinked. I didn’t know that word could be a part of such a blood-thirsty creature’s vocabulary. But still. The pup had wiggled his way into my heart. I’d already thought of a name for the little guy. I wouldn’t put his safety in someone else’s hands.
When I stared back at Shen with the look he said was a challenge to werewolves, he growled. Honest to goodness. I about jumped out of my skin. Something in me knew not to poke the werewolf, but I wasn’t about to run. “Down, Wolfie.”
He stared at me, not blinking, his brows furrowing. “What did you just say?” His voice was slightly slurred because of his partially shifted teeth.
My brain was already overloaded with fear, so everything was the calm I get right before battle, which meant nothing in my mind worked properly. I might’ve also been a bit foggy-headed and I felt drunk, so that might explain my next action.
I patted his chest. He stared down at my hand as if it were a snake about to bite him. I stared at my hand as if it were a snake about to get cut off because it touched a werewolf who was already partially shifted, which meant his bloodthirsty side was closer to the surface and likely harder to control.
I tried to put my hand at my side, but then I was hyper aware of my arms and they felt weird, so I just crossed them. There. Now then. I glanced back up at him, only to find there was something on his face akin to shock. “You might scare others, but you’re just a big teddy bear, aren’t you?” I asked. Then I cursed my dratted mouth for speaking every single thought aloud.
He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but me. “The longer we stand here arguing, the more chance the pup is in danger.”
“Then let’s go,” I said, pushing past him. He could’ve stopped me, but instead he allowed me to push him aside. He growled again, which made me smile. I think my fear receptors were getting faulty. Could I replace them? Then he was right behind me, handing me the torch. “Will you at least let me go first?” he said at last.
I shrugged and paused, allowing him to pass. He nearly scraped his head on the wall to avoid touching me. He gave me a curt nod and then I was following his broad, tense back.
Another growl erupted from the puppy up ahead, and Shen sped up. My breath was coming in ragged gasps, but a stupid thing like sickness wouldn’t stop me.
Shen stopped. Just beyond him, light was glowing from around a craggy corner. He smothered the torch with his cloak—Was that a heat-resistant material? I wanted one of those!—and paused before slinking around the corner without a sound. It was freaky how silently he moved.