Page 44 of Before the Bond
In a way, I remembered what happened. The bites, the lunges at Olivia, how I fought back. But the memory of everything felt hazy.
All that mattered to me was that nothing touched her.
Seven years ago, I swore nothing would touch her again. I broke that once. I wouldn’t again.
When I shifted back, my heart was still pounding furiously. I almost expected it to stop.
“Caleb?” Olivia's voice broke on my name — thin with fear, heavy with relief.
I looked at her. Just being this near her, made the energy surge back through my muscles. I took a step forward. I stumbled.
Olivia rushed toward me and draped her parka over my shoulders.
Her skin brushed across mine. I wanted to pull her in, embrace her, make sure she was real — alive.
I took a deep breath and forced the urge down.
In the distance, I could hear the Voss pack's wolves vanishing into the tree line. They were gone, but I knew that didn’t mean safety.
I walked in the direction of Olivia’s car.
“We need to go.”
It was past midnight when we finally returned to Ashwood estate.
The kitchen was empty save for Olivia and me.
Olivia’s first aid kit lay open on the table. The scent of antiseptic felt unpleasant for my heightened senses.
I looked at her. Her focus was on the bite marks on my arms. She dabbed disinfectant on them and brushed off the debris. Seven weeks of watching her work, and I had never seen her hands anything but steady.
She said nothing.
Olivia spared me questions during the ride earlier, as well. We both knew when to wait.
“This might sting a little,” her first words since the altercation.
I didn’t flinch as she pressed the iodine down deep into the crevices of the wound. I could feel the wounds themselves slowly retracting, fresh new skin covering them.
Olivia stared at me, but chose not to question it.
Instead, she held the gauze in place. She followed protocol anyway.
Once she tended to — or attempted to — most of my wounds, she finally sat across from me. The kitchen booth’s seats were only a foot or so apart. But I never felt as distant as I did now.
“Tell me,” she said. It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t a demand either. “Tell me everything.”
Years ago, I imagined how this conversation would go. I still wasn’t prepared.
I started the only way I knew how.
“I’m not human,” I murmured. “Not the way you mean.”
Olivia answered the next part for me.
“You’re a werewolf.”
I nodded. Half heavy with guilt, half relieved she finally knew something I'd always wished she could.
