Page 40 of Red

He exits, and I stare at the map. They’ve never gone into the camp, so they can’t know for sure what we’re up against.

The office is at least a change of scenery from my room each day. Quiet too. I can’t hear anyone, as ironwood planks line the wall behind the map.

I dive into the waiting books. There’s no sign of anyone barging in, so it’s almost perfect.

Some werewolves gain the ability to block their thoughts from others. A wolf cannot speak directly to one werewolf without others knowing, as the pack unifies its mind.

I close the useless book and open the second. Both speak of regular skills, all of which are taught in school. Some master them early, while others take time.

When the orange sunset glows into the room, I climb up to put the books away. My shoulders creep up when I head to dinner, hearing voices everywhere in and out. Stark didn’t hesitate to shut down my idea of going home. Maybe it’s time to stop asking and start adapting.

Chapter 15

Over the last week, I’ve read in Stark’s office pretty much every day, changing my focus to wolf history with the humans. There are no communication books in my own room or anything on legends. The crowded house hasn’t calmed down, so I only exit the hallway for food. My body’s heat is unsteady the longer I go without turning, but there’s no leaving this house. I can’t even convince them to take me running anymore, and with the shifts, there’s a constant rotation of pack members coming in and out.

Lying in bed, the room lit by the morning sun, fire burns through my legs. I toss the blankets off and try to cool myself. Today isn’t a leaving-my-room kind of day. I need the magic to calm down, and with everyone’s voices in my head, it’s a mountain of work. Everyone has been following Stark’s rules mostly, except he’s not always here and no one is going to give him more problems. They’re a unit.

Stark enters my room, and I roll my eyes as I sit up. This is never going to stop.

“You’re not eating today?” He glances around the room.

“I need a break from all of you.” No point in denying it.

He nods and leaves with no retorts. He is so perplexing some days.

Ten minutes later, the door swings open again to Stark holding a plate. He places it on the small side table next to the chair and walks out. I call out “thank you,” as the door latches.

I guess it’s good I don’t have to starve while also burning up. The tray is filled with all my favorite fruits, and a different warmth spreads across my chest. This one doesn’t hurt. It’s not like the heat always hurts, but holding the magic off worsens my situation. I finish eating up the fruit platter and go back to reading.

The day drags by, hour by hour, and no one comes looking when I miss dinner. It’s not until I’m walking out of the bathroom that I hear a sliding sound come from near the door. It’s well after midnight now, but a thin book rests a few feet past the door. It’s bound in leather, the pages worn around the edges—The Tale of the Flaming Wolf. My eyes go wide, and I slowly flip open the cover. I run my hand over the thick ink. Written in 1807. I hum in happiness and start reading.

Dawn light filters against the walls through the edge of the curtains. I am on the last page. My eyes itch, and I keep needing to look away from the book to see the words unblurred.

While other wolves envy, in truth she protects.

I hug the book and grin. This might be the best book I’ve ever read.

I place it on the bed and climb into it. Fatigue sets in my limbs, and I rest my head against the soft pillow, then wrap my arms up around it and stretch my spine. It was worth the ache. Books are better than sleep.

After a quick rest, I open my eyes to find a bowl of salad on the side table with a glass of water. I have a bite, then begin to reread the book again. When night falls, I step out of the room and go into Stark’s office for a piece of paper. I write, Thank you for this. I’ll take another, then tuck the slip inside of the front cover. I think of sliding it under his door, but I don’t want Nikki to question anything about the subject of the book since she’s been staying here. I assume she’s been in his room with her mate, though we haven’t crossed paths in the hallway—not that I leave this end of the house often. Stark will find it on his desk at some point.

My stomach groans, and I accept I need to find something more to eat. Dinner should be more than done this late.

A few people sit in the pit, lounging on the couches and chatting. It’s not too bad.

Lirea comes through the front door with Faira behind her, and everyone jumps up. They drop two large boxes onto the floor.

“Who is it?” Kiya asks, moving toward the door as the others crowd around. No one follows them in.

I glance around at the panic flashing across their faces

“It’s Jocko and Tryd.” Faira says, speed-walking past us and disappearing beyond the kitchen.

“What happened?” the tallest one asks.

“We’re not sure, but let’s get ready.”

Lirea follows after Faira. The tall man lifts one box, and Mitus grabs the other.