CHAPTER 23 #5
“Don’t be sorry for me,” Edmund sighed. “I lost a few other family members, but I still had a decently large family.” He adjusted himself into a sitting position, and was comfortably nestled among the clusters of serebells. “But that’s enough about me.”
“No, it’s fine. I want to hear more.” She sat down from a crouch next to him. In a sincere tone, she added, “I want to know more about you.” A soft smile formed on her lips.
Edmund’s chest rose with a quiet, tight breath.
After a moment’s consideration, he spoke.
“My grandmother and grandfather were the ones to raise me instead. Both of them were brutally tough to the core—the old woman still is.” He scoffed, but the light in his eyes carried fondness.
“My grandfather passed away a couple of years ago.” He flicked another serebell.
“I still have a few uncles and an aunt, but they’re all in different packs with their own families now.
My oldest sister too… She went off to join another pack after she met her mate, but my younger siblings are still here. ”
“You really do have a big family,” Lenore noted with wide eyes. She smiled after. “That’s wonderful. I always wanted one in the future.”
“It’s common for most werewolves.” He paused before he admitted, “I’ve always imagined something similar too.”
Their eyes locked together as the words they shared lingered in each other’s minds.
The fast, rhythmic strum of Lenore’s heartbeat was all she could hear, muting out the forest’s wild melodies.
They both looked away, pretending to pay attention to the pretty flowers around them.
Lenore’s hands gripped her arms as the cold bit through her clothing, leaving trails of goosebumps.
A pleasant warmth surrounded her as she found herself draped in the embrace of Edmund’s cloak. Eyes wide, Lenore looked over at him, who was quick to shuffle away.
“You’re cold.” His blunt statement only made her laugh. Edmund’s eyes remained averted as he pulled his knees up, and propped his elbows against them.
“I am,” Lenore said. “Thank you.” She pulled the cloak tighter to her body.
A pleased sigh left her without her realizing.
Instinctively, she drew up the cloak’s collar around her head, burrowing herself into its warmth.
His scent masked hers, surrounding her in an almost addictive smell that she wished so deeply to inhale.
Her body froze when she saw Edmund was staring all the while.
“Is it that comfortable?” he asked. His tone was low and hushed, gentle almost, as if he didn’t want to lose what he saw. Lenore’s cheeks flushed.
“It was getting pretty chilly so yes. Very.” She sank deeper into the cloak, hiding the lower half of her face behind its collar. “You know, I thought werewolves would be... naturally warm in every form. I should’ve come a little more prepared.”
“Your body gets used to it,” he said. “But,” he chuckled, “of all the things you thought about werewolves, this is the most normal.”
“Ahaha…” Lenore lowered her forehead to her knees, cringing in remembrance. “Just don’t tell anyone what I said when we first met.”
Edmund laughed. “I won’t.” While Lenore’s gaze was hidden away, he moved a few inches closer, their legs less than an inch apart. “So, have you gotten more used to the idea of being a werewolf?”
“... Well, I wouldn’t say that,” she said. She gripped tightly at her calves.
He looked down at her, the fond warmth fading as he frowned with concern. “Never mind your skills. That’ll come in time—”
“It’s not that.” Lenore’s eyes darted down to the side of her dress, where Pip stirred within its pocket. “It’s a multitude of things.”
“Like?”
She didn’t know where to start. Pip nudged at her leg, encouraging her to speak through the rise of unease in her chest. Slowly, she said, “I’m still scared.” Her head lifted, but she kept her gaze out toward the distant darkness. “Of everything.”
Her eyes fell. “Of myself.” She looked at him, expression crumpled—the corners of her eyes pinched tight. “I still... I still can’t accept that form. I still think that I’m... a monster.”
Her final word echoed in whispers only she could hear, reverberating with the voice that had haunted her from the very start. It crawled through her ears, threading its terror into her heart.
Monster. Lucyn.
Lenore’s vision turned blurry, and she ducked her head.
This is who you are. Her lower lip trembled. This is who I am.
A touch on her arm made her quickly blink back the tears. The whispers disappeared into the quiet hum of the night. She looked back at the source of the touch, surprised at how closely Edmund leaned in.
His voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words hung heavy. “Then what am I? I’ve taken lives, and done far worse than bite a rabbit’s throat.” His eyes held hers. “How could you be a monster when you never had a choice?”
The question stunned her, rendering her speechless. Her eyes widened.
But her reply never came. Their conversation was cut abruptly when they heard a distant crack of a twig, followed by hurried footsteps thudding across the forest floor.