Page 17 of Nightshade

I cringed away, frowning at him. “Also, stop being a weirdo. I’m . . . just grabbing some extra stuff.” At his blank, suspicious stare, I scowled and reiterated. “Still being a weirdo, Viktor.” Then, acting like it was totally normal, I reached into the linen closet and grabbed a huge fluffy towel, then turned and marched away, like what I was doing wasn’t weird at all.

CHAPTER 10

Altair

The cabin was a significant improvement from the basement cell I’d been in. The window was a little concerning, but it was small enough that I thought I could avoid direct sunlight pretty easily.

To be safe, I pushed the bed into the corner on the far wall. Honestly, I was just trying to keep myself busy, because I was staying in one place.

I imagined that any moment the witches would descend on me like a hoard of locusts. Every fiber of my being demanded that I run away, but for what? The world wasn’t like it had been before. I might not understand the fullness of how it had changed, but the carriages had enormous windows, and I got the sense that people weren’t so neighborly anymore, and very few had been pleased to see me back when I’d first arrived on the continent.

No one was going to stop for a wayward traveler in the middle of the night. I’d get myself trapped in the desert where all I could do was stare on in horror at the lightening sky before I became a pile of ash.

I’d wind up lost, and the witches would find me anyway, because they knew this world far better than I did.

I’d wander too far, and Ivan would find me again. I didn’t even know if he was on this side of the globe, but after all this time, he very well could be.

So this little cabin, sparse as it was, offered what seemed, logically, to be my best chance until I could get a better handle on my situation. A werewolf was hard set on seeing me fed and clothed. Who knew what else he’d be willing to teach me about how things had changed?

But he was an easy meal, and the werewolves had already driven the witches back once. Maybe they’d hesitate to come on the werewolves’ territory now, even to get me back. Maybe, if I played this right, I could have a werewolf, or a dozen, standing between me and my enemies.

It’d be foolish to run into nothing when I had an opportunity here.

But damn it all, I couldn’t stay still. I paced back and forth across the room, wishing that Leo would hurry back. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet, and there were spots of the floor that seemed to sag under every step.

I couldn’t hope that he’d stay in the cabin with me, but I’d had a handful of minutes of satiety. I needed to hold onto that, rather than fixate on the sandpaper dryness at the back of my tongue.

That was all in my head now. I’d been fed; I was just afraid of being hungry again. I wasn’t starving anymore.

But every impulse I had wanted him to stay close. He was safety, my food, and he walked on two legs and had his own complex mind and, damn it all, my animal desire to feel secure would not lead me to ruining the best shot I had of maintaining freedom.

I did not need to cling to him, leash him, or tie his oversized frame between the window and me to block any chance of sunlight getting through.

I could handle a few minutes on my own. A few hours. A few decades.

Leo returned a couple hours later with an arm full of linens and clothes, and before he’d reached the door, I’d already opened it for him with a wide grin.

“Well look at you,” I drawled. “With all that, you’ll have me set up with a nice little nest, won’t you?”

Color returned to his cheeks. He looked more hale, and I wondered if he’d eaten while he was away, or if he really just healed that quickly.

“I wanted to make sure you’re, ah, at least comfortable until tomorrow night, when I can come back.” He set the bundle in his arms down on the bed. “Sheets, a blanket. I grabbed a pillow⁠—”

I had to press my lips between my fangs to hide a smile. “How luxurious.”

“Well—” He ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck. “I just thought⁠—”

He looked away from me, and my stomach lurched. I was making him uncomfortable. Damn it all. I’d just been trying not to think about how the bare bed alone was better than the cot I’d had in my cell with the witches.

I stepped closer and touched his elbow. “I’m not teasing you,” I said, leaning in to catch his eye. “Honestly. It’s been a long time since I—” Had a pillow? Pathetic. Had someone to think about my comfort? So much worse.

I took a short breath and shook myself. “You’re very thoughtful,” I said instead. “I appreciate it.”

All right, now his ears had turned red. Was I doing more harm than good?

Sucking my cheeks between my molars, I turned to inspect the stack of things. The clothes were soft and loose, with no buttons or fasteners that I could see. They were simple enough to figure out though, and they stretched at the waist and ankles so that they might still fit me, even if they fit Leo.

There was a bar of soap that looked like it’d been made instead of purchased. Then, folded up at the bottom was a navy blanket, dark as the midnight sky. I sank my hand into the soft yarn, knotted thick and lush, but still pliant beneath my touch. “This is nice.”