Lucien growled again, though far less threateningly. Instead, it was a growl that sounded almost like a tantrum of sorts. And I realized then that I wasn’t talking to the normal Lucien, or the Lucien I’d come to know. Instead, it was as if I was talking to a cornered animal.
Sucking in a deep breath, I forced myself to relax in his arms, though nothing about him bleeding to death behind me was relaxing. Then, I said in a calm voice, “You said I’m your Eteria.”
The low growl that had still been vibrating in his chest up until then came to a sudden stop. Taking it as an encouraging sign, I continued in a more confident tone. “You said being your Eteria meant my soul belongs to you. You said before that hurting me would hurt you, so that must mean it goes the other way around, doesn’t it?”
I saw his claws slowly return to normal nails.
Heartbeat quick, I took in another deep breath and said, “I don’t know what’s going on, Lucien, but I do know I feel pain exactly where you’re wounded on the side.” I paused when I felt him stiffen. “I might not feel pain on my back, but I have a feeling that this is still related to me being your Eteria, is it not?”
It seemed my deduction was right because Lucien’s arms dropped from around me, and he stepped back. Slowly, I turned to look at him.
His beautiful face was set in cold, inhuman fury.
But I knew that this fury had nothing to do with me. So I ignored it and, catching his eyes, I said, “That means if you die, I might die as well. Doesn’t it?”
It seemed that, at last, my words finally penetrated whatever supernatural wall he’d put up because his expression shattered, replaced by a pained look that cut me as deep as his wound did. “Drew,” he whispered, voice hoarse.
I cupped his face, searching his gaze. He seemed so defeated, it made my chest tighten. “Lie down on your front,” I said softly, “and let me take care of you again.”
He closed his eyes, putting his hands over mine and pressing them tight to his face. My palms tickled at the brush of his bristles.
We stood like that for a few long moments before he finally released me and said with a tired, soulful gaze, “All right.”
The moment he lay down and I leaned over him with a pair of gloves and the cream, Lucien spoke.
“Are you familiar with the concept of mates?”
I tensed as I gently applied the mysterious cream over the still-bleeding Spellscript wound. “Since you’re not talking about what Australians call one another, I assume you’re talking about animal pairing?” I tried to joke, but my voice was off. BecauseI feltoff.
Willow, who used to read romantasy books, had once told me how she wished mates were a real thing. Since I wasn’t as versed in the genre, I had asked her to explain. She had then told me about how, in this kind of book,mateswas short for “soulmates,” and that it was a magical occurrence that happened between two people, binding them together.
Those words now raced in my mind as Lucien continued, his voice cautious. “Like mating in the wild, werewolves mate too. Any Otherborne could find a mate, really.”
I had yet to find out what an Otherborne was, but I wasn’t an idiot. From the few times I’d heard this term, and the context in which it was said, I believed it referred to supernatural creatures in general.
But more important was what he’d just said. And I could no longer wait to get a concrete answer. “DoesEteriamean ‘mate’?”
He froze, and I slowly traced the straight lines that made the Spellscript on his back, applying extra cream directly on the tissue gaps. “Every Otherborne can find a mate,” he said quietly. “It is bychoice.”
Before I could protest, he suddenly pulled away and rolled to his unwounded side to sit up and face me, his expression stormy. But I was furious with him now too. “I’m not done,” I snapped.
“Yes, you are,” he said in a low growl, snatching the cream from my hands and putting it away. “Take off the gloves.”
I glared at him. “You are still bleeding!”
“Fine, then,” he said flatly and grabbed my hands, rolling the gloves off me.
“Lucien!” I protested. “You told me you’d let me take care of you—”
“And I did let you.” He cut me off with an angry look. “But now you need to understand why you care so much about a stranger, man and wolf, when you barely even know me.”
His words shut me up, and I stared at him, stunned. A rebellious part of me wanted to yell at him thatof courseI would worry about him, just like I would worry about anyone else in his position ...
But that was not true, was it?
“Having a mate means the Otherborne chose that person,” he now said, eyes filled with frustration. “Eteria, on the other hand, isn’t a choice.”
I didn’t know what to think. My mind drew a blank. So I simply stared at him as he sat down on the far end of the bed, as far away from me as he could. “Eteriais a term for a very rare phenomenon,”he said softly, though his entire body was tense. I could see the veins down his corded arms popping, he was fisting his hands so hard. “That phenomenon is triggered when an Otherborne encounters a human they feel an instant, inexplicable connection to.”
