All faint scars, healed and white.
She swallowed, staring at Mal. The wounds were real? The air seemed to thin. He’d bitten her. He, as a large black wolf. A large black wolf that had saved her life. “None of that was real? It can’t be.” Her voice was soft, unsteady.
“We’ll talk later,” he said softly, watching her. “Put on the overalls and coa
t.” He nodded at the too-big jean overalls and the coat. The coat she’d taken the night they’d escaped. “It’s not safe.”
She nodded, using the length of rope he offered as a belt to keep the pants around her waist and then slipping into the coat. Her mind was in overdrive. For one thing, there were far too many questions in her mind. Who was Finn? And the Others? There was more—she was loved in a way she’d never thought possible. Was that real? It felt real. Maybe she was still a tad delusional after all. And what was this voice in her head? She couldn’t quite make it out, but…something was talking to her, like a subconscious thought. Her conscience?
The most obvious question, though: Should she be afraid?
She knew the answer. No. She didn’t fear Mal. If anything, she wanted to be near him, to trust him. Whether or not that was the wisest choice seemed irrelevant. Which was concerning. She was normally a cautious, methodical type. She didn’t rush into things or act rashly. Trusting some guy who was comfortable running around naked in the middle of the woods was…out of character. But if her choices were going with Mal or returning to the creepy cave to suffer who-knows-what, she’d go with Mal. For now.
She’d been sick. Delusional. None of that had happened. It was impossible. Especially now, in the light of day. But her fingers fell to her thigh, tracing the scars beneath the rough denim fabric.
Mal stuffed a few items into a weathered backpack then shrugged it onto one of his incredibly broad shoulders. He was bigger in the daylight; whether that was a concern or a comfort remained to be seen.
“Where are we?” she asked, needing to focus on something.
He shrugged. “A hunting cabin. Gave us some shelter, clothes, and some useful supplies.” That was all she got. Apparently, breaking and entering wasn’t a big deal to him. Maybe his days always included being stranded in the middle of nowhere saving girls from bears as a giant wolf, all while hiding from someone who wanted to do very bad things to him.
Oh my God. What it wrong with me? Was I drugged?
None of this made sense. None of it.
“I’ve officially gone crazy,” she mumbled.
“No, you haven’t.”
“Are you sure?” She hugged herself. “I have plenty of evidence to the contrary. And I feel…different.”
He glanced at her. “Better?”
She frowned. “Better than what?”
“Than you were ten hours ago? You look a hell of a lot better.”
She couldn’t ignore the pleasure his slight compliment stirred. Yes, she could ignore it. She should ignore it. Something was seriously wrong with her. “When I had blood poisoning in my knife wound or a grizzly was using me as chew-toy?” she asked, sitting down on the cot. She remembered burning and searing, the rub of teeth on bone. Her bone. “That happened? It all really happened?”
He didn’t move. “Yes.”
She stared at him. “How can I not be crazy? We not be crazy?”
The hint of a grin tugged at his mouth. “Trust me.”
She arched a brow but slowly nodded. She trusted him? Because that was the most logical thing to do. Not that she had a choice. Right now, he was keeping her safe.
“Let’s go,” he said again, heading out the door.
She stared at the open doorway before following, tugging the oversize coat tight around her waist. The sun was blinding, bouncing off the white snow and hurting her eyes. She held her arm up, shielding her eyes and taking in their surroundings. Mal, however, was already a spot—rapidly disappearing into the distant trees.
She jogged to keep up, able to do so without growing winded. A new development. So was the fact that she could see the buds on the tree branches and hear the flutter of the birds in the boughs high overhead. And smells… There were all sorts of smells in the woods, some far less pleasant than others.
After twenty minutes of silent walking, she asked, “Where are we going?”
Mal glanced at her.
“I know you’re not used to talking, I get that. But it would make things a little easier on me to know I’m not in this alone. I’m scared. Freaking out. Right now, even though you’ve tried to tell me otherwise, I’m pretty sure I’ve been drugged, or I’m having an out-of-body experience, or I’m in a coma in a hospital somewhere and this is all in my subconscious. Whatever the reason, you’re here—proof that it wasn’t all in my head. I guess the scars are, too.” She drew in a deep breath and tried again. “I know once we’re safe you’re going to dump me off at the nearest bus station, and I’ll have to figure things out from there, but until then—”