Page 66 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

I scooted closer, taking a gamble, knowing this could be dangerous, especially in such a volatile state. I climbed into his lap, straddling his hips, pressing my chest against his. His entire body trembled against me. “Is that what they told you? The witches? That they would fix you?”

“They said they would cure me.”

My heart broke open and tears filled my eyes. He wasn’t a born wolf, but a turned wolf. I was already piecing together some of his past. “They said this after you became a wolf?”

“Yes…” He growled, growing more agitated. He began slamming the back of his head against the cave’s wall. Hard enough to cause a concussion.

“Hey. Hey.” I reached for his face, trying to stop him. To keep him from hurting himself.

“They lied to me,” he cried. “They lied!” His voice changed, turning to a snarl. His eyes changed, turning yellow. One was beautifully whole, the other, damaged. And suddenly, I had a feeling I knew what had caused that damage.

“Witches—they lie. They lured me into the dark. Used their magic to hurt me. To take my blood while I screamed and screamed and screamed.”

“Is that how you got your scar?” I blinked the tears away, knowing I needed to stay strong. For him.

“My scar,” he repeated, still sounding dazed. “My scar.”

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Wolfie. I promise. No more scars. No more wounds. Okay?”

“No more.”

“No more.” I caressed his jaw again. “That’s it. I’ve got you. Not a single witch will harm you.” I pressed a gentle kiss to his damp forehead. Then another to his nose. Then his temple, his cheeks, the corner of his mouth.

My quest for the knife was all but forgotten.

The only thing that mattered right now was calming him. I wanted to kill the witches who had done this to him. Who had harmed him so thoroughly that he carried these hidden wounds. Now I knew why he never came here.

Why he’d hated me on sight—for what I was.

Axel’s breathing slowed and he began to relax, his muscles losing some of their tension. “That’s it,” I encouraged. “Should we try some grounding techniques?”

He huffed. “Fuck that.”

I chuckled and pulled back. His gaze looked less vacant. More present.

“We need to get you out of here, okay? Where you’ll be safe.”

“Safe.” He blinked, like he was trying to bring me into focus.

“Yes. Safe. I’m going to keep you safe. Okay?”

“Safe.”

“Exactly. Come on, Wolfie. Can you stand up for me? Here—” I climbed from his lap. He made a keening sound of protest, reaching for me. “Come on.” I took hold of his groping hands, mindful of the claws, and pulled. It took everything, but I managed to get him upright.

He growled, the sound filled with irritation, and pulled me against him, possessively wrapping himself around me. “Safe,” he murmured. “Safe.”

“You’re safe. I promise. Come on.”

He didn’t want to move, his body still locked tight. But I used his desire to remain close to me as a way to spur him into motion. Taking one step, then another. It was slow, but we began to cover ground. I kept one arm around him, while he kept both around me. Clinging to me.

We emerged back into the smaller chamber. From there, it was an uphill slope. I continued to murmur encouraging words, urging him along. His grip remained tight.

I’d forgotten all about the knife by the time daylight appeared, so wrapped up in Axel’s panic. The sound of birdsong returned, sunlight filtered through the trees, the breeze tickled my skin. The world continued to turn as if nothing monumental had just happened.

Axel’s breathing evened out. He finally dropped his arms and simply stared off into the trees. He didn’t look at me.

Slipping my pack from my shoulders, I pulled his free, too. Then I shed my hard hat and did the same for him. When he still didn’t look at me, I placed myself in front of him.