I lower her onto the bed, arranging her limbs with more care than necessary, smoothing her hair back from her face even though she won’t notice the gesture.
Her eyes snap open.
And Hades’ spell unravels instantly.
She inhales out of habit even though she doesn’t need to, pupils contracting hard as awareness slams back into place. Fora second, she lies there, staring at the ceiling like she’s listing every sensation hitting her at once.
One second she’s the stillness Hades left behind, the next her eyes are open, and her body is locked, and her fangs have punched down from her gums on reflex, and she is looking at the ceiling like she’s trying to figure out whether she’s still alive, whatever that means for something like her.
I feel it through the bond before I see it on her face.
The jolt of disorientation hits hard, her senses sweeping over a room she doesn’t recognize. The moment she notices the one heartbeat in the building and locates it at me across the room. The instant her hand moves to check her own clothes because she doesn’t remember the last several hours and needs to know her body is still hers.
I record all of it.
I do not move.
“Charlotte.”
Her eyes cut to me. Red, scared underneath, furious further under that. And beneath the fury, something I’m not going to name out loud because it’s barely formed in her yet and she deserves to recognize it before I do.
“Nothing happened while you were under,” I say, because it’s the first thing she needs to hear and waiting for her to ask would be cruel. “I drove. I stopped once for supplies. I brought you here. That’s the whole account of what I did with you.”
She watches me. Her hand hasn’t left her ribs, but then her hand drops. Her shoulders ease a fraction, not trust, but the absence of active fear, and I’ll take it. I would take less.
Then she groans. “Oh good,” she mutters, dragging a hand over her face. “Cabin in the woods. Exactly where every bad decision starts.”
My mouth almost moves, but I don’t let it. She’s not ready for me to find her funny yet. She’s barely ready to be in a room with me.
Her gaze slides to me, sharp and assessing instead of frightened. Hunger burns in the red creeping through her irises, but underneath it is recognition.
“You weren’t kidding,” she says hoarsely. “You actually did it.”
“I told you I would,” I answer carefully.
She pushes herself upright slower this time, shoulders tight, jaw set like she’s bracing against the ache inside her. “Yeah, yeah, I remember,” she says, voice rough but edged with dry humor. “Magic nap, dramatic relocation, broody wolf guy playing chauffeur…” Her eyes flick over the room. “Could’ve warned me the décor screams‘serial killer Airbnb,’though.”
“Previous guests rated it highly.”
She stares at me. “Did you just make a joke?”
“No.”
“That was absolutely a joke.” She points at me. “You’re funnier than you look.”
Despite everything, the corner of my mouth almost twitches.
She swings her legs over the side of the bed, pausing when the hunger hits her hard enough that her fingers curl into the blanket. “Okay,” she breathes, half to herself. “Still starving. Still angry. Still… whatever the hell this is.” Her gaze snaps back to mine. “But before you give me the‘trust me’speech, just know I’m grading your performance very harshly right now.”
“I’m aware,” I say dryly.
She huffs a soft laugh that turns into a frustrated growl, fangs pressing down from her gums as the hunger surges again. “You said cabin. You said pack territory,” she continues, rubbing her temples. “I remember agreeing. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“That’s fair.”
“And just so we’re clear…” she adds, pointing at me with a trembling finger, “… if you tryanythingweird, I will absolutely bite you out of spite. Hunger or no hunger.”
“I’m not here to hurt you, Charlotte,” I say, keeping my voice even. “Or control you. I’m here to help you survive this.”
