The Rogue's Luna

Awake

Five days. Five days of silence broken only by the crackling of the fire, the whistle of the kettle, and the occasional unconscious murmur from the redhead bleeding all over my bed. She had stirred a few times over the last five days. She had tried to sit up and failed. And then she would pass out again before we could talk. After that, nothing. Just shallow breaths and slow healing. I had changed her bandages. My hands remembered how to care for someone, even if my head didn’t. I had boiled fresh water, and I had kept the fire burning. But now? Now she was awake. As in actually awake. Breathing and looking around like she was trying to decide whether to make a run for it or fight for her life.

“Welcome back,” I said as I dragged a chair closer and sat down. “I must say, you look better,” her eyes narrowed slightly.

“You are not funny,”

“No, but I am the one who kept you alive, so I figure I get a pass,” I remarked. She tried to sit up, and I reached out and gently pressed my hand to her shoulder. “Easy. You are still healing…but not fast enough to play hero,” thankfully, she didn’t argue. She just sighed softly and eased herself back down. “Let me check your bandages,” I said, and I saw her jaw clench. I waited a moment, and then she finally nodded. Most of her wounds had closed. The shallow ones were gone completely, but the wolfsbane cuts still lingered. Ugly, red-edged and swollen. I took my time as I cleaned them again. Her breath hitched once, but for the most part, she suffered through it. Not that I cared. Once I was done, I stepped away and went over to the small kitchen. “Soup?” I offered. She eyed me closely. “It’s chicken noodle soup. I made it this morning…and fresh bread,”

“Real bread?”

“No, fake bread,” I countered. She didn’t laugh. Not that I expected her to. But before either of us could say another word, her stomach growled so loudly she blushed. She muttered something under her breath, and I chose to ignore it as I ladled some soup into a bowl. I cut her a piece of bread and used a wooden tray I had carved to serve it to her. I watched her eat like I had handed her a treasure. She devoured the soup in less than two minutes, tore through the bread like it might vanish, and licked her fingers clean without a trace of embarrassment. I didn’t say a word. I just handed her a cup of water afterward. She drank deeply, then let out a long breath and finally looked at me like she was ready to face whatever came next. “All right,” I said. “I know you have questions…so go ahead,” she didn’t hesitate.

“Where am I?”

“My cabin. Deep in the forest,” I answered. She looked around, almost as if she didn’t quite believe it.

“How far from the borders?”

“Far enough that no one is going to stop by any time soon,”

“Do you know what happened to the others?” she asked as her gaze flickered toward the cabin door.

“No,”

“You didn’t see anything?” she looked back at me, and I shook my head.

“I was out gathering water when I smelled the blood. I followed the scent and found…well, then I found you. The others were already gone,” I explained. Her throat tightened, and I saw it. It was just a twitch. A tremor. Not a tear, but she swallowed it down and moved on.

“Who are you?”

“Thorne Hale,” I said. She blinked, and I could see the recognition in her eyes. But she didn’t say anything on it.

“And why did you rescue me?” she questioned curiously. I shrugged in response.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly leave you to die. Or would you have preferred I left you there?” I shot back. That got her. Her lips twitched like she wanted to snap back, but instead, she went quiet. She stared at the fire for a long time. Long enough that I thought the conversation was over. But then she looked at me.

“You said I could ask questions,”

“Yes, and you did,” I pointed out, and she sighed softly.

“Then why do I feel like you are holding something back?” she asked, and I wasn’t entirely sure how to respond because I was holding something back. Because I could feel it in my chest. Because my wolf has been pacing ever since he first smelled you. Because the bond is there. Raw. Humming just beneath the surface. I wasn’t about to say any of that to her. Instead, I leaned forward.

“It’s my turn,” I stated. She didn’t argue. “Who are you?”

“Liora Maddox,” she said, and the name hit like a punch I hadn’t expected. She was the Alpha’s daughter. Bloodhowl Pack.

“What were you doing out there?”

“I was on a pack’s mission,” she said, and that was all I got. The silence stretched between us. It wasn’t exactly awkward, but it felt loaded somehow. She didn’t ask what I already knew she sensed. I didn’t confirm what she already felt. But the pull was there. The mate bond. Quiet and relentless. Liora stared at me like she didn’t actually want to look at me. But she was still trying to put the puzzle pieces together. I stood before she could ask me anything else.

“You need more rest,” I said to her.

“I have had enough rest,” she argued, and I shot her a warning look.

“Well, you need more rest. Especially if you want those wounds to heal,” she looked as if she was about to argue further, but then she winced and clutched her side. “Like I said, you need more rest,” I moved to the kitchen to tend to the pot. I could feel her watching me, but I pretended not to care.

“I don’t suppose you have a bathroom?” she then asked.

“Not one that you are used to,” I said as I pointed toward the closed door. “But it’s clean,” I added. I watched her out of the corner of my eye. Liora struggled to get to her feet, but once she was up, she steadied herself. Slowly, step by step, she made her way to the door. It creaked open, and I heard her groan. But she went inside and shut the door. After a good few minutes, she came out and carefully made her way back to the bed. I finished cleaning up the kitchen, and then I joined her in front of the fire. I picked up the book I was busy reading and pretended to read. I could still feel her gaze on me, and when I glanced at her, I knew something was wrong. Her eyes went wide, and I carefully set the book down. Neither of us said a word. And then it happened. A low, guttural growl came from outside, and we both froze.