Page 33 of Wolf’s Fated Bride

Maren nods. “I’ll bring you something too.”

I thank her and stay by the window while the burn on the top of my hand, which isn’t healing, throbs with my steady heartbeat. When I press the fingers of my other hand against it, it’s hot, as if it’s some sort of localized fever. So weird.

The pain is dull, not terrible, only annoying, and it makes me want to scratch. I don’t understand why it’s not healing properly. Maybe the Fireborn Alpha gave me cooties.

There’s no such thing as werewolf cooties, but I don’t know how else to explain this wound.

With the chores finished for the day and Maren off to see Mom, who will likely give her massive downers along with wine so that Maren will fall asleep at Mom’s, balled up and crying, I’m free to go down to the med bay. Lindsey, our healer, isn’t there. She’s probably in bed. We have no medical staff on duty unless there’s an emergency.

Since I’m on the ground floor, I grab a guard uniform and coat from the communal closet and step outside. The chill threatens to freeze my eyeballs.

One of the guards jogs over. Frost covers his eyebrows. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

Duh. “Have you seen Lindsey?”

“She’s delivering Miki’s babies.”

“Shit.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No. Having girl trouble is all.”

Nothing shuts up a male like a conversation about “girl trouble.” They have no idea what we mean by that, but their survival instincts tell them to keep their mouths shut. Only the dumb ones speak.

This guard is smart. He nods. Good boy.

“When is the freeze coming?” I ask.

“In an hour.” A sweeping gust makes both of us stumble. He tries not to run into me, but steps on my foot.

“Ouch,” I say, then wiggle my toes.

The young wolf blushes. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. You did warn me about the weather.”

He smiles wider. “That is true.”

I hook my thumb over my shoulder. “I’ll be going back inside now.”

He hops in place to warm up as he waits for me to return to the castle.

I trot down the steps into the basement, pass the food storage areas, and exit at the bottom near the wine barrels, where I know nobody stands watch this time of night. I cross the bridge to the Fireborn tower, where I find six Fireborns. They’re dark-gray-and-obsidian wolves the size of mules. They lower their heads and lift their upper lips.

I stop dead in my tracks.

They circle me and sniff.

These aren’t Stormcrest wolves. They smell different and growl at me, which the males in my pack wouldn’t do. When they circle me, they don’t touch me, but I notice them pausing by my throbbing hand. Their tilted heads tell me they’re puzzled by the scent.

I really hope it’s not some sort of disease they know about and won’t tell me. Werewolves don’t have many sicknesses, but we have a few skin diseases caused by various microbes. They’re rare in our climate because not many disease-causing agents can survive the cold, but there are some that do.

I sniff my hand. Nothing.

Blade steps out of the tower.

“Hey,” he greets me as he slides on his gloves. “Yes, we’re heading out to search for Ash. I can’t wait until the morning. None of us is going to sleep anyway. You want to come?”