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I get up and walk into the kitchen. In a drawer, I find massive scissors and return to the fireplace. I cut a small hole in the fur coat and dig inside. My fingers touch a cloth bag. I pull it out.
It’s a thin baby-blue cloth bag holding herbs. More specifically, herbs that regulate breeding. Even more specifically, herbs that fae use in the Summer Court when they don’t want to become pregnant, but want to enjoy their heats all the same.
In the fae court, the bags come in pale pink or blue. Even if this bag was another color, I would still know the herbs. The scent of jasmine mixed with something spicy gives it away.
Fleur didn’t forget the coat here by accident. She left me a choice.
* * *
Eventually, I fall asleep.
The knock on the door wakes me up. Dazed, I stumble to the door.
“Who is it?”
Bleary-eyed, I peer through the door hole to see several lycan males retreating from the cabin. Once they join the crowd of lycans across the street (the entire clan might be standing there), I think the worse. Oh no. Seith’s dead, and they’ve come together as a pack and want some of his belongings to send him off with.
When I swing open the door, the upper part of Seith’s body falls on my legs, nearly toppling me. “Oh no.” They left him at his door. Disturbing, but what the heck do I know about lycan custom? Is he well, then?
Crouching, I listen for his breathing and hear the rumbling. Steady breaths lift his chest. Relieved, I sigh and slide my hands under his armpits, then pull.
I’m not going anywhere.
I pull harder and move him a bit.
Pulling harder yet, I grunt as I struggle with his heavy body. I’m barely making progress when I hear cheering. “You can do it,” the lycans encourage me on.
His upper body is all inside now, so only his legs are left on the steps. Sweating, face feeling as hot as if I spent the span on a boat in the middle of the sea, I’m breathing hard. I grunt, pull, rest. Grunt, pull, rest. Little by little, I’ve got this. Damn, this alpha eats a lot.
“Wohooo, look at her go!” his clan mates shout.
There’s something wrong with these males. What kind of a male doesn’t lend a hand when a female is struggling?
Seith’s almost inside. Instead of dragging him in, I walk over and bend his knees and fit the rest of his feet inside that way. The lycans cheer and hoot.
I lift my middle finger. “Thank you all very much for your help.” Then I slam the door shut.
Or try to.
It hits Seith’s boot and bounces back into my forehead.
Ouch. I rub the spot.
Laughter rings all over the village as I slowly close the door and slide down the wall next to it, expelling a tired breath. “Fuck it.”
I measure the distance to the fireplace and how long it’ll take me to get him there or even if Icandrag him there before collapsing. Since Seith’s clammy and cold, I must warm him up near the fireplace.
I listen again and hear him breathe, and then his teeth start chattering.
That answers my debate whether I can drag him over to the fireplace. Even if I can’t, I’ll try my best. Hooking my hands under his armpits again, I strain with all my might and drag this super-heavy lycan alpha male over his floor, wondering how in the king’s name I’m going to keep him alive and what his clan will do to me if he dies in my nest.
Not that I’ve nested.
I haven’t.
I was too busy processing the changes in my life in the last few spans, and frankly, I just needed a moment to unpack all of it before moving on.
I reach the fireplace and position Seith on his right side, facing the fireplace, before collapsing onto my back and lying down. His head is between my legs, his right cheek using my thigh as a pillow. Slowly, I sit up and make sure I slide out from under him without waking him.
