10. Altair
Altair
The cabin was a significant improvement from the basement cell I’d been in. The window was a little concerning, but it was small enough that I thought I could avoid direct sunlight pretty easily.
To be safe, I pushed the bed into the corner on the far wall. Honestly, I was just trying to keep myself busy, because I was staying in one place.
I imagined that any moment the witches would descend on me like a hoard of locusts.
Every fiber of my being demanded that I run away, but for what?
The world wasn’t like it had been before.
I might not understand the fullness of how it had changed, but the carriages had enormous windows, and I got the sense that people weren’t so neighborly anymore, and very few had been pleased to see me back when I’d first arrived on the continent.
No one was going to stop for a wayward traveler in the middle of the night. I’d get myself trapped in the desert where all I could do was stare on in horror at the lightening sky before I became a pile of ash.
I’d wind up lost, and the witches would find me anyway, because they knew this world far better than I did.
I’d wander too far, and Ivan would find me again. I didn’t even know if he was on this side of the globe, but after all this time, he very well could be.
So this little cabin, sparse as it was, offered what seemed, logically, to be my best chance until I could get a better handle on my situation. A werewolf was hard set on seeing me fed and clothed. Who knew what else he’d be willing to teach me about how things had changed?
But he was an easy meal, and the werewolves had already driven the witches back once. Maybe they’d hesitate to come on the werewolves’ territory now, even to get me back. Maybe, if I played this right, I could have a werewolf, or a dozen, standing between me and my enemies.
It’d be foolish to run into nothing when I had an opportunity here.
But damn it all, I couldn’t stay still. I paced back and forth across the room, wishing that Leo would hurry back. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet, and there were spots of the floor that seemed to sag under every step.
I couldn’t hope that he’d stay in the cabin with me, but I’d had a handful of minutes of satiety. I needed to hold onto that, rather than fixate on the sandpaper dryness at the back of my tongue.
That was all in my head now. I’d been fed; I was just afraid of being hungry again. I wasn’t starving anymore.
But every impulse I had wanted him to stay close. He was safety, my food, and he walked on two legs and had his own complex mind and, damn it all, my animal desire to feel secure would not lead me to ruining the best shot I had of maintaining freedom.
I did not need to cling to him, leash him, or tie his oversized frame between the window and me to block any chance of sunlight getting through.
I could handle a few minutes on my own. A few hours. A few decades.
Leo returned a couple hours later with an arm full of linens and clothes, and before he’d reached the door, I’d already opened it for him with a wide grin.
“Well look at you,” I drawled. “With all that, you’ll have me set up with a nice little nest, won’t you?”
Color returned to his cheeks. He looked more hale, and I wondered if he’d eaten while he was away, or if he really just healed that quickly.
“I wanted to make sure you’re, ah, at least comfortable until tomorrow night, when I can come back.” He set the bundle in his arms down on the bed. “Sheets, a blanket. I grabbed a pillow—”
I had to press my lips between my fangs to hide a smile. “How luxurious.”
“Well—” He ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck. “I just thought—”
He looked away from me, and my stomach lurched. I was making him uncomfortable. Damn it all. I’d just been trying not to think about how the bare bed alone was better than the cot I’d had in my cell with the witches.
I stepped closer and touched his elbow. “I’m not teasing you,” I said, leaning in to catch his eye. “Honestly. It’s been a long time since I—” Had a pillow? Pathetic. Had someone to think about my comfort? So much worse.
I took a short breath and shook myself. “You’re very thoughtful,” I said instead. “I appreciate it.”
All right, now his ears had turned red. Was I doing more harm than good?
Sucking my cheeks between my molars, I turned to inspect the stack of things.
The clothes were soft and loose, with no buttons or fasteners that I could see.
They were simple enough to figure out though, and they stretched at the waist and ankles so that they might still fit me, even if they fit Leo.
There was a bar of soap that looked like it’d been made instead of purchased. Then, folded up at the bottom was a navy blanket, dark as the midnight sky. I sank my hand into the soft yarn, knotted thick and lush, but still pliant beneath my touch. “This is nice.”
Leo nodded. “Mama made it.”
My brow furrowed. “For you?” My hand flexed, fingers sinking into the space between the stitching. My stomach flipped over. Was Leo trusting me with something of his own? Something that had meaning to him?
That was absurd. He shouldn’t.
Did he have no sense of self-preservation at all?
I withdrew my hand and stared up at him as he shook his head.
“She just makes them. It’s a way to pass the time, I guess, but also something she can do for the pack, and there are plenty who need—”
Warmth. Comfort.
Vampires, when they lived together, were called a coven. Most were built around a single sire, who ruled mind and body over his progeny. There wasn’t—
Well, having a pack must be very different. From what Leo had told me, it wasn’t all good, but even between progeny, there was infighting and a struggle for scarce resources. There wasn’t . . . this.
No one had been making blankets, much less to share them.
I felt Leo’s gaze on me again, but I was staring down at the blanket. Instead, I snatched the soap.
“Well, I should bathe before I dirty up your linens, so—”
“Right,” he chirped. “I’ll—I’ll leave you to it then, and, um, check in on you tomorrow night? Is that okay?” His gaze drifted toward the window and the fall leaves hanging on the tree outside. “Will you be warm enough?”
If I said no, what would he do? Would he stay and crawl under that damnably sweet blanket with me? I could do with a furnace.
But he didn’t want his pack to know I was nearby, and already, he’d gone out of his way to see me comfortable.
I waved my hand through the air. “I’ll be fine, darling. This is more than enough, really.” I gathered the large towel in my arms and flounced toward the door, throwing back over my shoulder, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
I found the river curving not far away, and took my time to lather the soap and rinse all the long-neglected parts of me. With the towel wrapped around me and the boots on my feet, I made my way back to the cabin to find it empty.
Which was just perfect.
I dressed in his strange, stretchy clothes, enveloped in a sea of softness, and left my boots by the door. Before he’d left, Leo had put the sheets on the bed and spread the blanket out on top of it. I crawled beneath it and laid on my back to stare at the ceiling.
I wasn’t running. All I was going to do was stay right there and enjoy the fullness of my belly. I twisted my fingers in the blanket on top of me. Though it had little spaces between the stitches, it held warmth quite well.
Likely would’ve held it better if I had a wolf beside me or proper body heat of my own, but it was nice nonetheless.
When the sun rose, I curled up facing away from the window and pulled the blanket over my head.
I slept fitfully, waking with a jerk when I was convinced the witches had found me, only to find the sounds outside nothing more than scampering squirrels or birds high in the trees above the cabin.
If I could say one thing for captivity—it was easier to rest, knowing you were already doomed.
At the sound of a knock, I jerked upright. As soon as I was awake, I realized the sound was too soft, too tentative, to be any kind of threat. But beyond the window, the sky was still the powdery purplish that said the sun had just set.
Leo, outside, waited until I opened the door before coming in, though this was more his cabin than mine. His eyes scanned the space to see if anything had changed before his shoulders relaxed and he smiled at me.
“Good day?”
“Lovely day,” I said, because who wanted to hear about someone struggling to sleep, fretting about every sound, or considering whether or not they were a fool for not taking off across the desert when they had the chance? “Yours?”
Leo nodded. “We’re working on the big house. Since Aleks is the alpha now, and he doesn’t want it, it’ll be for the women and children of the pack who want to stay together, you know . . . after . . . ”
I hummed. After they’d been harassed and abused by the pack for so long. It sounded like Leo and his brothers had gotten rid of the culprits, but that didn’t dissolve years of fear and harm.
Leo shrugged. “It’s nice to be working on something for everyone. I think Cash and Aleks have appreciated the quiet of Mama’s house being a bit away from the rest of the pack, but I’m eager to get us all back in one place, you know? It’ll be easier to make sure everyone’s getting what they need.”
Heavens, he really was lovely, wasn’t he? And there I was, taking advantage of him, taking his clothes and his blankets and his blood.
I’d gone quiet for too long, because Leo tilted his head curiously and frowned at me. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Fine!” I flashed a fanged smile his way. “Just fine, thank you.”
“Okay.” He sat on the edge of the bed, the only seat in the space, and pushed up his sleeve. “Are you hungry?”
My nose flared, like I could scent out the blood beneath his skin. But no, he only smelled like sunshine, sweat, and pine dust.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry again, and sat beside him. While I held his wrist, I decided I would only take two sips. Two full mouthfuls.
It was more than I’d gotten most days in captivity, and if I drank deeply of him each time he came, he’d catch on to what I was doing. He’d withdraw, and I—
I was already banking on this, him, to keep me safe. I couldn’t risk taking too much.
“Thank you,” I whispered, and I bent my head to sink my fangs into his arm.
His breath caught, and he shifted. The bed creaked under him.
I took one drag, and when I swallowed, I tried to do it slowly. I imagined his blood filling up every inch of me down to my toes.
That was good. One sip, and I was already full.
I sucked him in, the salty sweetness of him bursting across my tongue. Humming, I closed my eyes and let it linger. Let my mouth fill up.
Just one more sip, and I let him go, licking his skin clean even as it stitched back together.
“That’s all?” he asked, voice caught and so rough I worried I’d hurt him.
I shrugged. “You’re building houses.”
He scowled. “You took more yesterday.”
“Yesterday, I was starving. Today, I’m satisfied.”
To make my point—and yes, perhaps to avoid temptation as well—I adjusted his sleeve so that it covered his arm.
“If you’re sure . . . ”
“I am,” I said.
I stood up, and he followed suit, reaching into his back pocket. He pulled out a paperback book. “I found this, if you want it. There are others, but—”
Well, his pack would probably notice if their books and blankets went missing en masse.
“I asked Evie for one and she gave me this.”
I read the cover. “Well I do like blood, and I’ve heard good things about chocolate.”
He snorted. “Apparently, it’s about werewolves, so I don’t know what it’s got to do with either.”
I flipped through the pages. “Well, I’ll certainly let you know when you return.”
A strange look crossed his features—something almost distressed, though that didn’t feel like the right word for it.
“Yeah, okay. Evie’ll probably appreciate if I actually know something about it. I didn’t tell her it wasn’t for me.”
“Of course. Well, I can certainly fill you in.”
I was rushing him out the door, and I didn’t know why. It wasn’t like I had anything else to do that evening, and he was . . . he spoke well and kindly, and that was the problem. Everything I learned about him and his pack made me feel like more of a worm for endangering them all.
I’d use them for my own survival, and to manage that, I needed a degree of distance. But when he moved to the door, I lurched a step forward.
“Leo?”
He turned back to me. “Yeah?”
“The witches. Have you . . . heard anything from them? Are they searching for me?”
Leo’s jaw flexed and his cheeks hollowed. “We haven’t heard anything, but I’ll run the perimeter of our land just in case, okay? You don’t need to worry.”
I forced a smile and nodded. “Of course. Thank you.”
He left, and I shoved the bed back against the windowed wall so I could read by moonlight.