Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
FERAL
Iwas up before dawn. Again.
It didn’t matter how little I’d slept. My body had stopped pretending rest was coming. I washed, then dressed in the dark, careful not to disturb Victoria still asleep in our bed, Acorn a small lump somewhere in the tangle of blankets by her feet.
Coward’s logic, and I knew it. I’d stayed away from the bed last night until I heard her breathing slow into sleep. After what happened before, I didn’t trust myself to climb in beside her and not beg her for more.
So I’d paced. And sat in the chair by the fire, pretending to read if she happened to get up and look my way. Then paced again. Eventually I’d lain down on top of the covers, still fully clothed, and stared at the ceiling until the sky started to lighten.
Now I stood in the sitting area, looking at the breakfast tray I’d gone to the kitchen to supervise and bring back here—to Helen’s sly smile and not-at-all-subtle directives about romance.
The tea remained at the correct temperature. The rolls were still warm and waited for butter and honey. I’d gone out to the gardens and picked fresh berries myself. Collected eggs and boiled them myself while I swore the kitchen staff snickered.
And flowers. I’d picked them from the hillside just after sunrise, collecting wild honeysuckle and late-blooming columbine. And I’d put them in water this time, though in the same urn I’d used before.
Should I find a real vase?
I stared at the urn with something close to irritation. How had I not understood that flowers needed water? I’d brought her cut stems and placed them carefully in the urn like a ritual offering, and watched them wilt by midday. It hadn’t occurred to me that this was a solvable problem.
The bedroom creaked open the space of a hand.
Acorn emerged, his tail high, moving with the posture of someone who owned everything he surveyed, which was probably true. Even my wolf had stopped gnashing his fangs at the thought of his alpha role being usurped.
He scampered over to the table and leaped up onto a chair, peering over the edge to study the breakfast tray with what I could only describe as judgment. His paw snapped out, and he snagged a roll, dragging it toward himself.
I shifted my feet and scowled.
He glanced my way, his claws embedded in the roll still sitting on the table.
His whiskers twitched. I was fairly certain he was calling me something uncomplimentary in whatever language squirrels used when Victoria wasn’t translating.
I’d prepared for this. Without breaking eye contact, I walked over and took the small bowl off the tray, setting it on the floor, off to the side where we wouldn’t accidentally kick it.
“Hazelnuts,” I said. “Dried apple, seeds.”
Acorn regarded the bowl. Then me. Then the bowl again.
He tucked the roll against his chest and hopped down from the chair, settling next to the bowl with an air of someone accepting tribute from a slow-learning subordinate.
It was all I could do to hold back my smile. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
The bedroom door opened fully, and Victoria stepped out, already dressed, her hair pulled back in a way that suggested she’d been awake longer than I’d thought.
Her expression was guarded, that careful neutrality I was starting to recognize as her default when she wasn’t sure what reaction she could expect.
She saw me standing beside the table, saw the breakfast tray, and her face softened a little. I suspected she’d also noticed the fresh flowers in the urn.
Neither of us said anything. She came over to the table, sat, and I did the same, pouring her tea. Like I hadn’t spent an hour arranging breakfast. As if my chest didn’t feel tight every time she looked happy with what I’d done for her.
“Thank you,” she said.
I nodded and placed plates in front of us.
She ate a roll. I drank tea. Acorn made small satisfied sounds from the floor. The morning light came through the window at an angle that meant it was later than I usually started my day, but I didn’t care.
“What are those?” Victoria asked after a few minutes, gesturing with her teacup toward the stack of papers beside my plate.
I’d collected these older reports from my offices, planning to go through them, hoping to find a clue I might have missed.
Since looking at them was better than staring at Victoria and thinking about all the things I wanted to do with her that weren’t appropriate breakfast conversation, I lifted them. Shook them, making them rattle.
“Reports from the latest patrols,” I said. “Over the past few days, three more pack members have lost their ability to shift.”
She sucked in a breath. “That’s horrible.”
“They didn’t report it, but a week ago, they noticed the same feeling Robin described a year ago.”
“Robin from the gardens?”
I leaned back in my chair, staring at my empty tea cup. “Robin was one of the first. He described it as reaching for his wolf and finding the connection muffled. Still there, just…hollow.”
“Hollow,” she repeated, her voice coming out carefully neutral.
“He used to be part of my guard. But being unable to shift made moving quickly across long distances impossible. He’ll work in the gardens until I find a way to fix this.
” I spread out the reports, pointing to certain sections.
“The three pack members have shared the same feeling in the area where Robin used to patrol.”
She was already reaching for her notebook, the small leather-bound one she kept in her pocket. “Where?”
I nudged my chin toward the notes. “The northern creek, of course.”
Victoria made a small notation in her notebook.
“How long did the sensation last?” she asked after a moment.
“Minutes. Not more than an hour. It faded and everything felt normal again, so they dismissed it.”
“They didn’t want to name it. I bet they were worried, though.”
“I’m sure they were.”
She made another notation. And if I knew my wife, she was making connections I didn’t have the framework to see yet.
“And now they can’t shift at all,” she said.
I shook my head. “The connection feels there but dampened.”
Her face took on that look she got when she was deciding how much to share. I was starting to recognize it, the small pause she made before she gave me information she hadn’t fully processed yet.
She studied them for a long moment and made another notation. “Interesting.”
That was all. No explanation of what she’d seen or what it might mean. She returned to her breakfast as if she hadn’t confirmed something that made her spine stiffen.
I watched her not-react and filed it away.
“More tea?” I asked, holding up the pot
She glanced up, amusement in her expression, though I had no idea why she’d find that funny. “Please.”
I poured. She ate another roll. Acorn chirped, and her mouth twitched.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“You don’t want to know.”
“I’m asking anyway.”
She sighed. “He said you’re staring at me like I’m going to disappear if you blink.”
Warmth crept through me, and I figured my face must now be red. I directed my gaze at my plate.
“He also said the new flowers are pretty,” she added.
I glanced up. She was looking at them, not me, but color had filled her cheeks as well.
After breakfast, Victoria disappeared into the office with her notebook, Acorn scampering behind her after giving me a long look.
I returned the tray to the kitchen, then came back to the suite and sat at the table, spreading out my map, trying to focus on patrol logistics.
We needed to guard the northern regions, but my pack was spooked.
Few dared travel that way, and who could blame them?
Victoria’s research in that area kept coming to the forefront of my mind. The seal sites and duskburst. The timing of the incidents. Now these new reports, with more of my pack losing their ability to fuse with their wolf.
I stared at the map until the routes blurred together.
Bastian’s visit threw in another complication. He must know that creek area almost as well as I did, and while his scent hadn’t necessarily shouted guilt, it hadn’t been clean either. Was he trying to sabotage my rule?
I could send Kirk to quietly shadow Bastian’s pack movements. He could track where alpha went, who he met with, if anyone, and see if he could find out for sure if Bastian’s people were experiencing the same problems.
Then I reconsidered. Kirk was loyal, but he wasn’t subtle. And if Bastian was involved in something and this was more than just unfortunate timing, I didn’t want to reveal my hand yet.
I needed more information. Proof of what this might be. And more understanding of what I was actually looking at.
Had my father known much about the seal sites? He’d once called them the bones of the pack, though he’d never explained further. I wish I could ask him why they mattered or what they were for.
I was nineteen when he died. Cocky. Certain I’d have years to learn the things he still had to teach me.
I set the reports aside and stood.
The office door was open, and I walked over to stand in the doorway.
Victoria worked at my mother’s old writing desk by the window. I hadn’t told her who it belonged to. I hadn’t told anyone. It was easier to let it be furniture. Her back was to me, her head bent over something I couldn’t see.
“Feral,” she said without looking up.
“How did you know I was here?”
“Your footsteps.” She lifted something worn and black and rose, turning. “Acorn also told me you were coming.”
The squirrel nestled in his basket, looking smug.
Victoria walked over to me, holding out a small leather-bound book. “You need to look at this.”
I frowned down at it. “Why?”
“You just do.”