Chapter 10 #2
The wolf who ran to save his mate, now argues about her fate. While she stands calm and does not see, his fear was for her, not for he.
We both looked at him.
“What did he say?” Feral asked.
“Nothing helpful.”
I shuffled the uncertainty about the bear away. His pack’s territory bordered this area. It seemed unlikely that was coincidence.
I pulled out my notebook, flipping to the sketches I’d made, and walked over to stand beside him. “I found multiple duskburst plants here. They appear to have been placed in a pattern I can’t fully map from ground level, but it doesn’t appear to be natural distribution.”
Feral studied the diagrams, his expression shifting into the focused look he got when working through problems. “Do you think they’re connected to the contaminated seal? It’s in this area.”
“Possibly. I don’t have enough data yet.”
“You could’ve been hurt,” he said again.
“You mentioned that.”
“Victoria.”
“Feral.”
His jaw clenched. The muscle jumped, fear and frustration fighting for dominance in his expression.
“Informing someone of my destination would’ve been reasonable,” I said with great reluctance. “It is part of good research protocol.”
He stared at me for a long moment. “Research protocol.”
“Yes.”
“Not because I might worry.”
“That too.”
His jaw unclenched by approximately half. He grunted, which I’d learned to interpret as acceptance. “We need to return to the compound before our bear friend returns.”
“Was it a real bear or a shifter?”
“I’m not sure.”
I looked at the mop, at the long walk back to the compound, then at Feral.
“You could give me a ride back in wolf form,” I said. “Or we could both take the mop.”
A look of horror flashed across his face. “Ride a mop?”
“It’s perfectly safe,” I said. “I flew here on it.”
“I won’t ride that thing.”
“I could take the front and steer. You’d only need to hold on.”
“I’m not holding onto a mop while flying above the ground.”
“It’s faster than walking. Faster than you carrying me up one hundred and four steps.”
“It can’t be faster than a wolf in full lope.”
“Try it.”
“Absolutely not.”
I waited.
Acorn chirped from his perch on a nearby rock.
“He says a wolf king afraid of a flying mop would make a very funny story for the next pack gathering,” I said without inflection.
Feral looked at Acorn for a long moment. “You wouldn’t do anything like that.”
No, but I wasn’t going to correct that impression.
Grumbling, he picked up the mop. “I’m sitting behind you.”
“That works.”
I climbed on first, settling my weight. The mop dipped when Feral got on behind me, his bulk nearly overloading the enchantment.
I adjusted the spell with quick gestures, reinforcing the stability anchors.
Acorn settled in my lap, his tail curled around my wrist, sending Feral a huff.
As if he wasn’t terrified the entire ride here.
Feral’s arms wrapped around me, holding tight.
I focused very hard on making the mop lift off the ground. With a kick, I brought us up to head height. The mop responded better with Feral’s weight balanced behind mine, though it still handled like a drunken cart.
Keeping the pace slow, I threaded us through the trees, maintaining a low altitude.
His grip tightened every time I adjusted our height or guided the mop around a tree.
I said nothing.
The mop dipped unexpectedly, dropping us three feet before I caught it. Feral made a sound I’d never heard from him before, a growl mixed with something that might be mortal terror.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
“I’m fine.” His arms tightened around my waist, pulling me back against his chest.
It felt much too nice to be held by him.
Finally, I steered us out of the tree line and into the clearing near our home.
Kirk stood near the tree housing the main hall. Maria and Tessa sparred nearby. At least a dozen pack members scattered throughout the space all stopped what they were doing the moment we appeared.
I brought us down, touching ground without crashing. Pride swelled in my chest.
Feral dismounted the mop and yanked on the hem of his tunic. He surveyed the pack with an expression that strongly implied silence would be greatly appreciated.
No one spoke.
Maria and Tessa exchanged a look.
Kirk’s face showed something complicated that wasn’t quite a smile but wasn’t not a smile either.
A teen working in the gardens made a snuffling-snorting noise. Feral’s gaze swung toward him. Color rose in the male’s face, and he dropped to his knees, frantically pulling at weeds.
I tucked the mop under my arm. “Thank you. You’re an adequate mop passenger.”
Feral scowled.
I smiled and headed for the stairs.
Behind us, the clearing exhaled.
Evening found me in the laboratory, writing up my findings. Feral had disappeared to deal with correspondence, leaving me alone with my samples and my thoughts.
Acorn settled beside my notebook, unusually quiet.
I kept working, making notes about duskburst placement patterns and possible correlations with the site. My mind wandered to the flowers on the table. The way Feral had turned back early because his wolf wouldn’t settle. His arms around me on the broom and how amazing it had felt to be held by him.
“He picked flowers,” I said out loud.
Acorn’s ears perked up.
“And forgot to add water. But he picked them. He went to the garden and selected each one.”
The squirrel’s tail went still. He watched me.
“Then he tracked me through the forest because he was worried. He shifted and put himself between me and a bear without hesitation.” I set down the container I held. “He rode on a witch’s mop. A mop, Acorn. Do you understand how significant that is?”
My gaze drifted to the small wooden wolf on the shelf.
I’d moved it from the drawer weeks ago without thinking much about it.
A child had made this with careful, imperfect hands.
I wondered if he’d been frightened when his father died and left him alpha at nineteen, or if he’d just gotten very good at not showing it.
She names the moments one by one and counts them like the morning sun, Acorn said in my mind. What started as a contract, cold and signed, she chose herself, step by step, in kind.
I met his gaze. “I don’t want this as temporary anymore.”
He patted my hand once. The gesture was warm, genuine, and absent of his usual smugness.
He hopped off the table and disappeared into the suite.
I watched him go before returning to my notes.
As the sun set, I stepped onto the balcony for air. The forest stretched out below, familiar now in a way it hadn’t been when I arrived. Moonlight caught in the canopy, turning everything silver.
Footsteps approached from inside the suite.
Feral appeared in the doorway, his expression concerned. “Acorn scratched at the door to my office and wouldn’t leave me alone. He led me up here like something was wrong.”
We both glanced into the suite.
Acorn sat on the inside door handle. With a flex of his back legs, he launched off, making the door move.
It clicked shut. The latch dropped.
I crossed the balcony and tried the handle. Locked.
Feral tried it as well. Also locked.
He spoke through the wood. “Acorn. Open the door.”
A single cheerful chirp answered him. Then silence as my companion scampered into the office.
I met Feral’s gaze.
“We’ve been outmaneuvered by a squirrel,” I said.
Feral stared at the door. “Apparently.”