Chapter 14
Linnea stood under the shower, trying to wash the night off and heat up her cold bones. She poured a palmful of shampoo into her hand and worked out the smell of perfume, sweat, and alcohol from her hair that Ritual had left in it.
After getting Von to agree to help them, they had another round of drinks before heading home.
It had been a long couple of days with too many emotions.
It made Linnea want her small house on the edge of the woods, where there was nothing but the winter wind and the occasional wolf howl to break the silence.
It also didn't have a god-sized problem for her to try to unravel.
Linnea could still smell Fenris on her skin, feel the press of his hand at the small of her back and the heat of his palm at the curve of her hip. The bite of his teeth on her lower lip…
Stop, she snapped at her wolf, who was making a small smug sound that wasn't helping anything.
Make me, her wolf replied. I liked it and so did you.
Linnea ignored it, finished washing her hair, and got out. She took the time to blow-dry it because going to sleep with it wet always gave her a headache. It was a pain, but she had enough headaches right now.
Linnea dragged on her soft flannel pants and a T-shirt, her body complaining that they hadn't had enough sleep. She needed to climb into bed and not move for eight hours.
She was going to have to talk to Fenris sooner or later about what had happened between them in the club, but she didn't know where to start, and she was too damn tired to think straight. It was probably a heat-of-the-moment thing anyway, and she was reading too much into it.
She expected everyone to be in bed when she got out of the bathroom, but instead, she found Fenris sitting in wolf form in the doorway of her bedroom. His head turned toward her, ears flicking forward, his mismatched eyes catching the lamp glow.
He came to guard us, her wolf said. He's standing watch.
He's sitting in the hallway like an oversized labrador, Linnea shot back.
Before she could open her mouth, Tor's door opened across the hall. Her brother stepped out in sleep pants and nothing else, his hair tied back at his nape. He looked at the wolf, at his sister in her pajamas, and tried to cough to cover up his laughter.
"I suggested he sleep on the couch, but he just turned into a wolf and ignored me," Tor said, as if that explained everything.
"He can't sleep in the damn hall, Tor," Linnea replied, folding her arms.
"That's something you have to work out with him. I have a mate that needs me behind my very soundproofed walls." He gestured at Fenris's hulking form. "Have fun dealing with that."
Behind him, Ciara's voice came from inside the room. "Leave them alone, Tor."
"Coming, kanin. Goodnight, you two. See you at breakfast." Tor winked at her and went to bed.
Linnea stared, dumbfounded, at his bedroom door. Tor had wanted to kill Fenris a few hours ago, and now he was suddenly cool just to leave them alone while he went and shagged his mate.
"Traitor," she muttered and turned back to Fenris. "There's a perfectly good, big couch just in there."
He stared at her and didn't move a muscle.
"You can't sit in the hall outside my door all night."
Fenris cocked his head a quarter inch and started to wag his tail.
"Acting like a puppy won't work. I see through this tactic."
Fenris only looked up at her with big, imploring eyes. Gods, he was so cute she wanted to rub her face against his ears to see if they were as soft as they looked.
Seems like it's working to me, her wolf whispered.
"You know what? I'm too tired for this." Linnea opened her bedroom door. "I swear to the gods if you snore, I'm kicking your ass out."
Fenris's shoulder brushed her hip as he padded past her into the room, leaving his scent on her that she had only just washed off. At least if he were a wolf, she wouldn't have to have any awkward conversations with him.
Linnea shut the door behind her and climbed into bed under the covers. She rolled over and looked down at the great black shape sitting by her bed in the dark.
"You're being very strange, you know that?" she informed him.
A slow shimmer of magic moved through the room, light as breath against her skin. The shadow of the wolf turned into a man.
And there goes my chance of zero awkwardness, she thought, wanting to pull the blanket over her head.
Fenris sat on the floor and rested his back on the side of the bed. A thin strip of streetlight through the curtains caught his bare shoulder, and the silver line of a scar curving over it. She could just make out his profile, the long blade of his nose, and the shape of his mouth.
"I know it's strange, but your presence comforts me," he whispered, husky and deep.
"It's fine, just weird," she said into the pillow.
"I… have trouble sleeping. I still can't really believe that I'm free. When I close my eyes, I'm afraid that I'll wake up and still be in the cave," he admitted, and the hitch in his voice made Linnea's chest ache.
She moved her hand out from under her blanket and reached down the side of the bed toward him. Her fingers found his hand and the rough calluses that were still on his large palm.
"That's shit. Is there something I can do to help?"
His mouth brushed against her knuckles. "Will you sing to me, little one?"
Linnea's fingers tightened on his. She had sung to him in her dreams and hadn't known if he could hear her at all. It had always been a tune that she had made up and used to soothe a baby or frightened pup.
"You really heard me?" she asked.
"Yes. It was the only thing that came through my dreaming."
Linnea tugged at his hand. "Get up here. You're not sleeping on the floor ever again if I can help it."
She moved over, and Fenris climbed in beside her, his hand still holding onto her. He lay on his side to face her, and she was glad it was too dark for her to see him properly or she would've lost her nerve.
She kept her voice low, and the melody came up out of her chest the same way her magic did. Fenris's thumb stroked against her knuckles, and he sighed softly.
By the time she reached the long-held note in the middle of the song, his breathing had slowed and evened out.
Linnea kept singing, letting it trail down to nothing in her throat so the sudden silence wouldn't wake him. She shifted a little to pull the blanket over him, her other hand still clasped in his.
Linnea traced the scar on his wrist with her thumb all the way down to where she could feel his steady pulse.
The beat of his heart and the rise and fall of his breath eased the remaining adrenaline from the past few days. Her eyes drifted shut, the magic of the melody still humming in her bones, and she finally fell asleep.