The intensity with which Saint studied me called into question how familiar he was with warg culture.
“Nudity isn’t shameful to wargs. They can’t bring their clothes with them when they change, so they learn early that bodies are bodies. They become unremarkable, over time. When you’re raised to believe your skin is as natural as your pelt, you gain a perspective few others have.”
“Then why did he want you naked?”
“He expected me to be horrified, to squeak like a mouse and scurry home.”
“But you couldn’t resist a dare.” Saint appeared thoughtful. “Is that why you answered my note?”
“I want to live,” I murmured. “What we do—my family, I mean—is survive.”
“Your parents’ caution keeps you breathing.”
“It allows for my eyes to open every morning.” I toyed with the twine straps beneath us. “I’m grateful for that. I’m thankful. But I’m also tired of searching for a reason to get out of that safe bed in my safe house in my safe life each day.”
“White witches are prey,” he said, as if I were a whole other species separate from him. “Black witches will hunt you, Howl. They will kill you.”
“Have you met any?” I twisted to face him, unable to look away. “Black witches, I mean.”