Chapter 7 Zinnia
Zinnia
Julian stared at me, unblinking, for a long moment.
Finally, he swallowed hard, the tattoos on his throat moving jerkily as he did so.
“What do you mean? We… we met? When? I don’t remember.
How would I not remember?” His stammered questions made him sound like a far younger shifter and made me feel ancient. No one was that good of an actor.
I sighed, wishing I could get up. This conversation was so painful, my injured arm was almost a welcome distraction.
But I knew the wound wasn’t healed enough, so I stayed still, glancing at the cobwebs and sending a prayer of thanks to the earth that I’d shared the location of my magical first aid kit with Ida long ago.
She knew about the gathered cobweb bandages I’d packed with healing power; she’d seen me use them on more than one of the pack’s pups over the years, the youngest who weren’t yet able to shift and healed almost human-slow.
Julian held still as if frozen, until I spoke again. “The night you left Occidens, I was there, in a grove of birches on the outskirts, near the—”
“The storage buildings.” His face had gone oddly pale, his hands trembling.
“Yes. I’d had a dream about you, and when I woke, when my wolf woke me…” My breath caught, and I let it out, then tried again. “I was there when you were running away, hiding from the Russians and your own pack hunters.”
“The girl,” he said. “That was you.”
I nodded. “I followed you. I ran after you, swam after you. But my wolf was grieving, and I wasn’t fast enough to catch up to you, though I never stopped, not even to eat.
My feet…” I glanced ruefully at them now.
“I’d been so excited to meet you, I hadn’t put any shoes on when I ran to find you.
I regretted that later.” I let my eyes flick to the tall mountains to the west, where Ida had found me, bleeding out from my feet, of all places, just inside their packlands.
“By the time I reached the Mountain border, you were many days ahead of me. A sentry found me and called for Ida. She allowed me to enter with her blessing and healed me. Well, the parts of me that could be healed. My human form.”
“Not your wolf.”
I met his amber eyes, almost proud at how steady my voice was, though every word stripped me of some of my dignity.
“My parents were healers. Not great ones, but our family was respected until Occidens… Anyway, they taught me this truth: that healing, magic of any kind, requires a sacrifice. Power, or time, or both. When Ida found me, I was out of time. I’d never had great magic—I assumed for a long time that’s why you rejected me.
Because I was so much weaker than you.” I ignored his startled gasp and went on, needing to finish.
“So my wolf gave up almost all of herself to keep me alive. All of the magic I had went to save my human form. I haven’t been able to shift since then.
I’ll never be able to.” I waited for his expression to change to pity or dismissal, or even disgust.
There was disgust, but it was aimed at himself. I could almost taste his reaction in the air, the intensity of his shock as it sunk in. Horror filled every word when he finally spoke. “It was… my fault. I killed your wolf.”
I shrugged, hissing in pain as the movement pulled at my wound.
“She may still be alive, in a way. But her agony was killing me. She chose to free me of that. I like to imagine she’s…
denning, in the center of my soul. What’s left of her, anyway.
I still feel her sometimes. It’s like she’s dreaming, sleeping too deeply to wake.
Though I would like to think she felt you today.
She was whimpering in my dreams.” I placed my hand on the earth.
“Maybe my magic reached her.” I didn’t share my belief that my wolf was truly gone and that the wispy sensations I sometimes had of her presence were like the phantom pains felt by an amputee.
We sat in silence for a long moment before he could speak again. When he did, his voice was hoarse, as if he’d been screaming in the silence. “I never knew. I swear to the moon, I would never have left you behind.”
I sucked in a deep breath, tasting the air for a lie. But it was true. “How?” I asked, before a sluggish spread of warmth on my upper arm reminded me that I was not healed.
Immediately, Julian was there, hovering, but not touching me.
“Ida warned me not to touch you. I promised I wouldn’t.
But please, Zinnia, lie down.” I acquiesced, closing my eyes as I lowered myself to the warm earth again.
Its power was even stronger now, with the sun giving the grasses more energy to grow.
Slow energy, the earth’s pool of magic rising to help me, sliding in between my cells like warm honey, soothing my wound.
“How?” I repeated, before I was too tired to speak again.
“My sister put my wolf to sleep,” he said quietly.
“We knew we were out of time, and she knew they would never stop hunting me. The markings were meant to keep others from seeing me, a magical camouflage. But they also kept me from feeling the moon’s magic—or any magic—around me.
It was like being blinded, until a few months later, when I was wounded on my shoulder with silver.
That cut was enough to break through the spell Camellia had worked into that tattoo.
I remember… My wolf was half feral when I woke, insisting we return to Occidens.
But I’d sworn to stay with the pack at Northern, and had no reason to go back.
I thought that part of me was homesick.” He let out a shuddering breath. “It was mate sickness, wasn’t it?”
I couldn’t answer, my throat tight with the memory of that pain.
“I assumed it was a reaction to the tattoos, or the silver in my blood. I was close to death for months.” There was a low, soft sound. Was he crying? It didn’t seem possible. He was so strong. A powerful Alpha.
My inner voice whispered: my Alpha.
But he wasn’t. I knew that. Still, I pretended it was true when he whispered, “Sleep, Zinnia. I’ll keep you safe now.”
The next time I woke, I was healed. Well, as healed as I could be at my age without access to the healing power of my shifter nature.
The moon sailed high overhead, and I stared at her for a while, remembering what it had felt like before.
Before my wolf had retreated, when I could draw magic from the moon as well, though it had always been a small amount.
Not like the great magic wielders of Occidens.
Not like him and his kin.
As if my thoughts had summoned him, his voice broke the stillness. “I brought you food.”
I turned my head toward him and tried not to stare. I failed spectacularly, my mouth going dry at his sheer physical presence. He’d changed since the last time I’d seen him. He’d grown, if that was possible.
He was tall, though many shifters were. Julian was massive and seemed to exude strength and control with every movement, his energy like a bow that had been pulled back, able to release a deadly arrow at any time.
He was still in human form, but he’d put on clothing—a pair of dark sweatpants and an open-necked woven shirt.
I couldn’t see all of him, but his shape had me blinking.
He was broad-shouldered and broad-chested, and every patch of tattooed, moonlit skin I could make out was nothing but muscle.
I swallowed hard. So much muscle, as if all he’d done for the past twenty-five years was hone his physique. He was both a weapon and a work of art.
And I wanted nothing more than to appreciate it with my fingers, and my mouth, and oh, fuck. It wasn’t like I’d know what to do with all of that if I got my hands and tongue on it. But a very stupid part of me wanted to find out.
The moon covered his face with shadows, but cast a net of light over his silver-dark hair. He held up a plate piled high with walnut halves, bread, and fruit, frowning at it like it had displeased him. “I know we need to talk, but I have to… I need to make sure you’ve eaten. I need to feed you.”
“You need to?” I don’t know why that thought had me flushing with heat.
His eyes flashed in the darkness. “I do. But Ida said this was what you ate.”
“Food?” I found myself smiling at his scowl. “I find it necessary.”
“No meat,” he explained. “She said you’re a…” His brow furrowed even more deeply. “A vegetarian.” The word was hushed, like he was uttering a curse.
My laughter startled him and surprised me as well.
“I’ve spent the past twenty-five years out here with the creatures of this forest. Healing them.
Caring for them. It’s hard to want to eat a rabbit when she’s shown you where she’s hidden her new babies.
I stopped seeing deer as food when I helped deliver triplet fawns, and the mother’s herd adopted me as an honorary member.
” He shook his head, so I went on. “I’m no longer…
connected to the moon. My magic comes from the earth, and I discovered that when I eat plants and nuts, it’s far easier to access that magic, and collect it to use. ”
“Fascinating,” he said, offering me the plate.
My own hands trembled when I raised them. “I might need to eat later. I’m not sure I can hold it.” Our eyes met, and I let myself appreciate his beauty in the moonlight. He was ruggedly handsome, thickly built. Strong, like the earth, powerful.
“Allow me to feed you, Zinnia?” The question was far more frightening than it should’ve been.
Feeding a mate was courtship behavior. But he knew I had no wolf to offer him.
He was passing through, and I wasn’t… whole.
This couldn’t be a courtship, but it wasn’t a good idea for him to grow attached.
One thick eyebrow lifted as I hesitated, almost daring me.
“It’s only food, Zinnia. Necessary, as you said. ”
“All right.” I opened my lips, and he leaned over and placed a strawberry on my tongue.
Kneeling, he fed me slowly, patiently. The wind blew in the trees around us, the river rushing in the distance, the night spinning us in a web of quiet magic where only we moved.
We didn’t speak. Each bite he offered me was an apology.
Every time I opened my mouth, it was an acceptance, if not forgiveness.
With the last few bites, his fingertips brushed my lips, and my tongue darted out.
His fingers tasted of salt and berries and sent small shocks of electricity through me, which raced from my mouth to my bare breasts and collected in my core.
The scent of my arousal rose into the air, and he groaned softly. I blushed.
“Thank you,” I murmured when all the food was gone, and the only hungers that remained were not for food. I wanted him, even though I knew it was a terrible idea. He wanted me as well.
But what did he want? A casual moment, a night? He was passing through, on his way home. He’d discovered I had no wolf. After that first time he’d called me his mate, I’d noticed he hadn’t done it again. He was honoring Ida’s promise to leave me alone.
Maybe I just could have a taste of what it would have been like.
At the mere thought of it, my heart raced in a doubled warning.
Too late, too late, too late. I knew what it was saying: that it was too late to be with Julian.
Too late to have more. It had been too late for half my life.
But maybe I deserved to keep a memory of him, for after he left. He owed me that, didn’t he?
“Will you touch me?” I asked, my whisper almost too quiet to hear.
“Touch you?” He went completely still. “How do you mean?”
It was almost impossible to force the words out. I was old enough not to be embarrassed about what I wanted, but I couldn’t make myself say what I really wanted. For him to taste me, hold me, fuck me. Give me all the firsts I’d been denied for so damned long.
I finally managed to whisper, “Kiss me.”
“Oh, thank the moon,” he groaned, moving toward me and lifting me gently from the earth, into his arms. The scent of crushed grass rose around us as he lowered his head to mine. “I will do anything you ask, mate. For as long as I live.”
I wasn’t certain why those words made my heart race again, in fear, but then his beard was brushing my skin, his hands gently gripping me, and he was giving me my first kiss.