Chapter 33 Through the Pain of the Past
THROUGH THE PAIN OF THE PAST
“There’s something in him, Elder A?na . . . something wild and still, like the wind before a storm. He’s ánya’s son, through and through. Quiet now, but one day, he’ll rise, and the whole forest will know his name.”
—Vládan, mate of ánya, before departing north
Theron
Mina mentioned she placed the comb near the ribbons. Did my mate move it?
I scan the bathing room until my eyes land on a neat arrangement of her belongings in a small corner.
My sweet dove has carved out a tiny space for herself here. Pain twists in my chest as I take in the sight. Just this small corner. She left everything behind when she was taken.
I need to ask her what belongings she had in Tárnov.
She should have more, so much more. This home will never lack anything she needs.
I’ve seen how she hides certain things. Her small weapon, for example, tucked under the nest alongside her mother’s handkerchief. But here, among her few belongings, I spot the comb. And something else.
Curious, I pick up the smooth, thin object.
It has her name, her face, on it, and a string of numbers.
What is this? Her painted image is strange too.
She’s wearing something green on her head.
It doesn’t cover her entirely, and it certainly doesn’t look like it’s meant to keep her warm. Is it ceremonial? Customary?
Humans do so many interesting things, things that are often difficult to understand.
When Elder A?na told us that humans prefer not to urinate outside, instead using something called a toy-let, I built one. When she explained that humans wash in warm water, I charged the crystals to ensure the streams always stay warm.
And now, I wonder what significance this little green headpiece holds? Humans truly are so different.
My ears twitch at the sounds of her stirring awake. For some reason, I expected humans—especially females—to sleep deeply. Elder A?na always said that human women needed more rest. The sun hasn’t even risen yet.
Comb in my paw, I step out of the bathing room, and my gaze immediately falls on my mate sitting in our bed-nest. Her bare skin looks so beautiful and so smooth.
Pride swells in my chest at the sight. After our healing session yesterday, I had the honor of bathing her again.
Her sweet moans of pleasure are becoming my favorite sound.
Right after the question about whether I have a knot—that was brilliant.
This should be our nightly routine. Me, tending to her delicious body.
“Good morning,” she says, her voice warm and husky from sleep as she stretches and rises from the bed-nest.
Why is she wrapping the furs around herself? I have already seen her bare.
“Good morning,” I reply eagerly. Then, holding up the comb, I ask, “Can I?” It looks so small in my paw, but I am determined.
Zephyr often braids his fur, something Elder A?na told him his mother used to do for him when he was a pup. It’s a beautiful and intimate act, and I want to learn it.
Noel glances at the comb, then meets my eyes with a smile. “Let me wash my face and brush my teeth first.”
I nod, following behind her as she heads to the bathing room.
I’ve never seen her brush her teeth before. The concept intrigues me, especially since humans lack fangs. I can’t imagine her hunting a deer with her teeth, and when I try, it’s entertaining.
Before I can stop myself, a grin spreads across my face. The image of Noel sinking her teeth into a running deer is indeed quite humorous.
My mate scoops a bit of ash and mint paste onto a little twig and begins gliding it along her flat, human teeth. Fascinating. Everything about humans is so small—their tools, their actions, and . . .
“You have very small teeth,” I say, leaning closer to inspect them.
She coughs, turning toward the face-washing basin, and my ears flick upright in alarm. Panic surges through me as I crouch beside her, fur rising along my back.
“Here!” I blurt, filling my paw with water and holding it out to her.
She washes her mouth with the water in my paw, and when she looks at me, she isn’t upset or sick. She’s . . . amused?
“Are you alright?” I ask, scanning her face. “Why did you start coughing?”
Her lips curve into a wide smile. “Theron! Don’t look at me like that!”
I tilt my head, knitting my brows. What did I do?
But she wipes her mouth and straightens, still smiling, so I ease my posture. If she’s fine, then all is well.
As she washes her face, I tighten my grip on the comb. Once she’s done, I can finally comb her hair. Maybe even braid it.
“I need to dress, Theron.”
Oh. I nod quickly, setting the comb aside and grabbing her gown from the counter. “Lift your hands,” I say, unfolding the fabric and holding it out for her.
She takes a breath, and I catch the barest hint of a grin tugging at her lips.
“Theron,” she says slowly, grounding herself as if she’s trying not to laugh.
My tail thumps against the face-washing basin, betraying my excitement. I step aside. She probably prefers to dress in silence.
“You do not dress me!” she says, that grin breaking through as she pushes me out of the bathing room.
“Why not? Mina dresses you.”
“And that is enough,” she replies, taking the gown from me and closing the door behind her.
I stand in the corridor, staring at the wooden door, blinking.
Does she think I cannot dress her?
My dove finally comes out of the bathing room, the comb in her hand. Finally.
I can do this now.
She walks past me with a wide grin. Anticipation roaring in my chest, I follow her through the corridor to one of the cushions.
“It will be more comfortable if you stand behind me,” she says. I nod and circle around her, positioning myself. She had to jump to sit comfortably. I should make them smaller.
Alright. She’s settled. I’ve seen Zephyr do this before.
I raise the comb to her roots, hesitating for just a moment as she turns to look up at me.
“Start from the bottom,” she instructs, “and slowly work your way up as you brush through the strands.”
I nod again, then grab her hair as gently as I can and glide the comb through her locks.
It’s . . . soothing. The repeated motion, the way her dark locks shine under the light of the crystals.
“You’re doing great,” she says.
Her words fill me with pride. I take another section of her hair, making sure not to miss a single strand.
As I finish, my mate looks up at me again and says, “Thank you.” Her voice is so beautiful it wakes my cock.
My body reacts, and I shift my weight. Yesterday’s activities have not calmed my shaft.
I traced my tongue all over her, and her little sounds of pleasure were beautiful.
Every sound she makes is beautiful, just as her face, her body, and her hair are. I love my mate’s hair.
“Can you teach me how to braid your hair?”
“Of course,” she replies, lifting her hands to section it into three parts. Body, mind, and soul—the sacred elements every vólkin knows. A braid isn’t just practical, it’s tradition, a symbol of unity. Human mates wore them often. Zephyr does too.
“You need to weave the sections like this,” she says, demonstrating the pattern slowly.
I watch intently, memorizing each movement of her fingers as they curl around the chunks of her hair. Left, right, left, right.
“Your turn.”
I carefully take the sections, weaving them together. The strands slip through my claws, and the pattern falters at first. It isn’t easy, so I try again.
By the third attempt, the braid takes shape, and I lean back, satisfied.
“You are beautiful,” I say as I admire her with the braid I’ve made.
Her smile, serene and lovely, is my reward. “My mother used to braid my hair when I was a child,” my mate says as she rises from the cushion. There’s sadness in her eyes, something I wish I could take away.
“This memory is special,”
She nods.
I cup her face, my thumb brushing over her cheek as I study her eyes.
“Thank you for this, Theron,” she whispers. “Truly.”
Before I think about it, I lean forward and trace my tongue along her cheek.
Her eyes widen, her face turning a delightful shade of pink. My little dove blushes so prettily. Good. I love seeing her like this.
“Yesterday’s healing session . . .” she murmurs, her voice trailing off as her blush deepens to a color reminiscent of ripe strawberries. “I . . . I feel good now, so . . .”
“Let’s go to the forest then,” I say, stepping back, though my gaze is on her glowing cheeks.
“The preparations are going well, Your Majesty,” Mina reports, her tone confident as she gestures toward the plans.
Noel nods. My mate introduced us to the idea of fabric shelters called tents, explaining that they would house the females and nymphí during our trials. Elder A?na confirmed that human skin burns easily. Tents are good. Tomorrow is a significant day, one that will test our strength and unity.
I’ve decided to participate in the trials alongside my warriors. A leader should lead, not stand to the side while others do the work.
“We’ll meet tomorrow at dawn,” I tell Mina. She bows alongside Na?a and Essin before the three head off to continue preparations.
My mate turns to me, her expression curious. “What is it you want to show me in the forest?”
“First,” I reply, tracing my claws along her braid, “we’ll see if your body is fully healed and capable of walking long distances, my mate.”
“I would love that,” she says with excitement in her voice. “It’s been too long since I’ve trained. I’m used to constant activity. I’ve never rested for this long before.” Her gaze travels down the length of the braid I’m holding, her fingers brushing over it.
“Then we shall train as well,” I say.
As we step outside ávera and into the forest, I take my time explaining the plants, animals, and natural elements to my mate. Her curiosity is insatiable, and each question she asks is like a spark, lighting up my honor to answer her.