Page 132 of Revealing Fate

A blanket was draped over Felíne’s shoulders, covering her undergarments and exposed skin with pillowy fabric. Kal dragged the massive fur off his bed and tossed it onto the floor before the hearth.

Then, he lifted Felíne from the couch with exceeding tenderness, set her onto the pelt near the cozy fireplace, and coiled himself around her.

Minutes dragged by. Kal didn’t speak, and Felíne couldn’t. They sat in silence, the only sounds being the crackling flames, the passing storm, Kal’s steady heartbeat, and his slow, rhythmic breathing. Now and then, he’d reach behind them and lift the glass of sugar water to Felíne’s lips. Kal’s furry tail rested over her folded legs, its weight a soothing comfort.

Slowly, so slowly, her fingers began to unclench. Her muscles loosened. Her chest expanded a touch more fully with each passing minute. The panic receded, bit by bit, the horrors of the night fading in intensity. Felíne’s throat relaxed until finally, blessedly, she drew a full, cleansing breath.

At some point, Felíne had fallen asleep nuzzled into Kal’s silken fur. She woke with the smoky earthen smell of his second form filling her nostrils, and the soft tickle of his pelt pressed against her cheek, strands woven through her fingers. His cavernous chest rumbled. Not a growl, but…

“Are you purring?”

Kal blinked down at her as though just realizing she’d woken. The rumbling stopped.

She could have laughed. “And you gave me the nickname ‘Kitty?’”

“How am I not surprised that the first words out of your mouth are an insult?”

Felíne chewed her lip. “It wasn’t an insult. I didn’t know your second form purred like a kitten.”

Kal’s golden gaze rested heavy on her. “Mountain lions purr.”

Felíne dragged her fingers through his onyx fur. “You look nothing like a mountain lion.”

A fine shudder worked its way down Kal’s massive, predatory frame, his hair standing briefly on end. His pupils dilated, their deep centers swallowing some of the gilded border.

“Grim,” she said suddenly. “He’s hurt⁠—”

“The wolf is fine,” Kal insisted. “He’s outside. It was barely a scratch.”

She relaxed again, her worry dissipating.

“I’m sorry if my actions frightened you,” he said.

“It wasn’t you.” Felíne still saw the assailant as she turned in the forest, relived the moment her irritation with Kal evaporated. “I’m just thankful you’re okay.”

He blew air through wide nostrils. “Lucien will answer for this. The Carrow brothers’ blood is on his hands. He should have come himself.”

The Carrow brothers. Robb and Skott. Kal had eliminated the threat with brutal efficiency, but she could tell by the way he spoke that he knew them. It was a shame they’d become a threat in the first place.

Felíne saw Skott’s stricken face, his outstretched hand, and suppressed a shiver. “I’ve never seen you in second form for so long,” she said, changing the subject.

“It’s not my preferred form,” Kal replied with a shrug. “I’m more comfortable with a set of blades and a crossbow in first, but it has its uses.”

“Like total annihilation?”

Kal huffed. “Like an overamplified metabolism.” When Felíne frowned in confusion, Kal continued. “Robb had some kind of noxious liquid in the rag he pressed to my face.”

The image of Kal fumbling for a weapon resurfaced. The cloth must have been saturated with some kind of sedative.

“If I hadn’t shifted, I would have blacked out. I couldn’t let Skott take you.”

Her mind went right back to their struggle in the forest: the thunder booming overhead, the lightning casting garish shadows, the rain descending like her terror. “You killed him,” she whispered.

“Of course I killed him,” Kal replied. “He put his hands on you.”

“And that warrants a death sentence?”

One granite word. “Yes.”