Page 24 of Wild Wolf

“That doesn’t mean you’ve adapted to civilian life. You’ve been treating the past decade as a special op. You’ve had to, else you wouldn’t be able to stay under the radar. Moving forward, you don’t have to do that. You can get a job you want, and the only time you’ll be brought into special ops is if the Inquisition has a job that suits your actual skills. You have a lot of adapting to do.” Amber ate more of the stew, peering around the cabin while she chewed. “I’ve been living in the equivalent of a fortress since bonding with the hyperactive menace currently outside terrorizing her father. The only thing I’d miss about the fortress would be the jet tub. Jet tubs are good for old, tired bones.”

I chuckled. “I’m capable of building a cabin from scratch. Installing a jet tub is not beyond my means. Here? I’d have to get a second generator just for it, but it’s not beyond my means at all. I have a fairly nice tub installed, but it doesn’t have jets. I had to order that from China.” I pointed in the direction of the bathroom. “I’m not old, but I’m tired and like to soak as much as the next man.”

“Most men would rather choke to death than admit they like luxuries.” Amber got to her feet and checked my bathroom. “Oh. This is nice. You did this all yourself?”

“I did.”

“Will you want to stay here?”

I snorted. “With their tendency to brand wolves? I am not itching to stay.”

“If you weren’t a Fenerec already, would you consider becoming one to dodge death?”

I wondered what Amber thought, but rather than ask, I took my time thinking about her question. “That really depends. If I was happy with my life and being a Fenerec would let me stay with people I loved, very probably. Death can’t be reversed, and being a Fenerec doesn’t stop death. It just delays it for a while. It might be a long while, but death comes to all. What do you have worth living for? That’s the question you should be asking. But if someone is miserable, forcing them to become a Fenerec to dodge death from old age seems cruel.”

“I’m not miserable.”

“I didn’t say you were. But are you happy with what you have?’

“I’ve been a witch for so long I’m not sure how to be anything else.”

“And I’ve been on the run from the military for so long I don’t know what it means to be able to stop and stay somewhere. Sounds like we’re in very similar boats. The important part is that you now have the choice. It’s okay if you say no, and I mean that. No matter how much everyone wants you to say yes, if you want to say no, say no.”

My wolf didn’t like the idea of losing the woman to time’s natural course, but he understood. In his way, he even agreed.

She needed to want it, for herself, not because anyone else wanted that for her.

Amber tapped the left side of her head. “The cancer is mostly here, and it’s spreading. The Normal doctors I’ve been to have basically concluded the same thing. At its current rate of spread, I could reach the end in six months. It could end in five minutes. I’m at a high risk of a lethal stroke, and the location of the cancer means I could lose cognitive and motor skills in a matter of hours. I’m already impaired in some ways, but I try to hide that from Nicole. Well, she’s trying to switch to being called Nicolina now. Richard tends to become sad whenever she’s called Nicole, and they’re bonded enough she can sense that.”

“And she’s not handling your failing health well, is she?”

“No, she’s not. She barely needs me as a witch now, especially now that Richard’s bonded with Dante. Dante is able to handle the entire pack, fortunately. That’s helped a lot.”

“Right now, could you take the months or years needed to learn how to be a wolf rather than a witch?”

“Yes.”

“You have nothing to lose going through the ritual. If you don’t survive it, you don’t suffer.” I grimaced at the callousness of my comment. “I never liked the idea of someone suffering for the sake of others. If you can’t win against the cancer, how is it fair to you to make you suffer? If you don’t want to endure that, I don’t think you should. Does becoming a Fenerec cure cancer?”

“It does, and my age would revert to prime of life. That process can take a while, though. I have a lot of years to reverse. I’m over a hundred.”

I whistled. “You’re looking damned fine, then.”

Amber snorted. “It’s an illusion. My natural face is a much more wrinkled and gaunter version of this. This is what I looked like well over eighty years ago, although I’m better dressed now. So much better dressed. I’ve seen more wars than anyone should. I tend to lie about my childhood. It’s easier to pretend I’m not old enough to be most people’s great-grandmothers. My therapist calls it a very bad coping mechanism, but then she acknowledges I’m coping pretty damned well for an antique capable of beating the shit out of whippersnapper SEALs. Do you know what they’d do if they saw who I actually am and can still kick their asses?”

“They’d cry,” I predicted. “From a mix of awe and shame. In my case, more awe than shame, but I’d be back for more because that just can’t stand, Amber.”

“Well, you’re a wolf, and wolves like getting their asses kicked, and they always come back for more. Wolves conquer every mountain they can, or they get their asses kicked trying. I do most of my fighting with guns, but I give it a week before I won’t shoot anymore because of the cancer. Honestly, if we weren’t in hostile territory, I’d stop shooting now.”

“I’ll do the shooting for you if necessary.”

“Before I looked at the shot you took, I would have been skeptical, but you’re probably as good with guns as I am.”

I raised a brow. “I love the art, I don’t like what the art is used for. I don’t like to kill.”

“That’s not a bad thing, Declan.”

“You’re one of the few who think that.”