Chapter 13
I left her there.
Against the tree. Blood on her clothes. Flowers crushed in the dirt. I left her there and I'm walking and I can still feel her on my hands. The slick heat of her. The sound she made when she—
My cock twitches and I want to put my fist through a tree.
Keep walking. Still half-hard, getting harder the more I try to shut it down. Don't think about her hands. Don't think about—
Stop.
I stop. Actually stop walking, hands braced against a trunk, breathing hard. Two hundred paces. Maybe less. Not far enough.
She's on me everywhere. No clothes—shifted and never shifted back—so it's just skin. Her scent ground into my chest where she pressed against me. My hands. My stomach. The blood from the humans mixed with her sweat and the sharp salt of—
I should wash in the stream. Should—
I bring my hand to my face instead.
Fuck.
My whole body shudders. I can taste it—underneath the dirt and the copper. She came against my hand. Wrapped her fingers around me and stroked until I—
My forehead drops against the bark. Rough. Grounding. Not enough.
I want to go back.
Turn around. Find her against that tree. Push her trousers the rest of the way down and—
No.
I shove off the trunk. Keep walking. Faster. Running. Blood still pooling hot and heavy. Her hips rolling against my hand. The sound—desperate, high, wrecked—when my fingers curled.
Want her. Still.
My body. Her body.
The clearing ahead. Smoke rising. Voices.
I slow down.
Naked. Blood-covered. Smelling like her arousal and mine—every wolf in that clearing is going to know before I take ten steps.
Nothing I can do about it. My clothes are wherever I dropped them before I shifted, somewhere in the trees near the flower field. Not going back for them.
The tree line ends.
I step into the open and every head turns at once.
A woman near the fire pit goes rigid. Young wolves scramble back. Someone's nostrils flare—I see it, can't not see it—and their face changes. Not just surprise at a naked alpha. Worse than that. Their nose working, eyes widening, gaze dropping to the blood and the scratches and the—
Whispers start before I've fully emerged.
"—fuck, that's blood—"
"—the human, you can smell—"
"—is he—"
My chest vibrates. Low. The whispers cut off.
The blood they'd understand—the other thing underneath, not that. Never that. My hands curl at my sides.
I keep walking. Across the clearing. Not toward my dwelling. Just through, heading for the trees on the far side.
"Keer."
Axan.
Shit.
Already moving to intercept. His eyes travel down, back up. The blood, the nakedness, the scratches on my arms and chest. He keeps his face neutral but his nostrils give him away.
"Not now."
"You need clothes."
"I need to not be here."
"What happened?"
"Humans. Two. Near the flower field." I keep walking. "They grabbed her. She fought. I shifted. They're dead."
"You shifted." His eyes move to the scratches. The ones on my arms—her fingernails, not the humans. Too precise. "And after?"
"After what?"
"Keer." He steps closer. Drops his voice. "You're walking through the middle of camp naked and covered in the human's—" He stops. Chooses differently. "Everyone here has a nose. What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to move."
"Mel already came back. About an hour ago. Alone. Through this same clearing. Kestria's with her now."
Melori walking through this clearing while every wolf caught the scent I left.
Bruise on her cheek. Every head turning.
Alone.
My hands curl.
"I'll handle the pack." Whatever he sees on my face makes him drop whatever smart ass thing he was about to say.
"Go. Clean up. She doesn't need to see you like this."
I don't answer. Don't thank him. Past him, arms at my sides, heading for the tree line on the far side. The air on my skin. Her scent lifting off me with every step, carried on the breeze, spreading through the clearing for anyone close enough to—
Let them smell it. Let them all—
Someone's child darts across my path and stops dead. Wide eyes. Staring up at the blood on my chest, the scars, the empty socket. Then the scent hits and the child bolts.
Fine.
My dwelling is dark when I push through the door.
Not alone.
Kestria.
I close the door and grab a tunic from the shelf. Pull it over my head because having this conversation naked is—
"Don't bother." Her voice is ice. "I've already smelled everything I need to."
I pull it down anyway.
"What happened out there?"
"She was attacked. I killed them."
"And?"
Silence.
"Keer." Low. Controlled. "I just cleaned blood off my best friend's face and held her hands while she lied to me. So I need you to tell me what happened after you killed the humans."
"Kestria—"
"Don't." She stands. "Don't 'Kestria' me. The whole clearing can smell what happened. I could smell it on her. While I was washing her arms. While she was shaking."
I go still.
"She told me about the scouts." Pacing now.
Three steps one direction, three back. My dwelling isn't big enough this.
"Told me they grabbed her. Told me you showed up and killed them.
" Her voice tightens. "I saw the blade mark on her throat while I was cleaning her up.
She didn't have to tell me how close it was. "
Her eyes find mine.
"And then she stopped talking. Melori. The woman who never shuts up, who talks through everything, who fills every silence with six different thoughts—she went quiet. Looked at the floor. Her hands were shaking and I had to figure out the rest myself."
"I could smell you on her. I could smell—" She stops. Swallows hard. "How could you?"
She's so still it's worse than moving would be.
"She's my friend. She saved my life. She came here because she had nowhere else to go and she's been working herself to nothing trying to earn a place and you—" Words tumbling fast, running together.
"She was picking flowers, Keer. Flowers!
Because everything here is brown and ugly and she wanted to fix it.
That's who she is. She fixes things. And she almost died doing it and you—"
"I know."
"You don't." Her eyes wet but she's not crying—too angry. "You didn't see her come back. I did. Basket clutched to her chest. Blood on her shirt. Bruise going purple. Trying to smile. Telling me she was fine, just got scratched, no big deal."
Kestria leans forward. Elbows on her knees. Looking at the floor instead of at me.
"She held it together through the clearing. Through me cleaning the cuts on her arms. Through every question I asked. And she didn't say one word. Went to her dwelling like everything was fine."
"She almost died." Kestria's voice drops. "You were supposed to protect her. And instead—" She can't even finish.
"I don't have anything to say."
"That's not good enough."
"I know."
Kestria stares at me for a long moment. Then she turns, leaving. Door slamming behind her.
My fist connects with the wall.
I stand there. Breathing. Listening to her footsteps disappear across the clearing.
Kestria's right.
Stay away.