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“Art therapy is new to Lucille, but she likes it and it keeps her distracted. These things take time.” The therapist glanced at me and held out her hand. “I’m Grace.”
“Tori,” I said, shaking her hand.
“Has anything been effective?” Ridge asked, keeping one eye on his aunt, who was still quietly absorbed in her watercolor.
Grace looked at Ridge, and I was pleased when she didn’t bat her eyes or try to flirt with him. She was completely professional. Ridge speaking with other females agitated my wolf. That agitation was never directed at Ridge—my wolf and I trusted him—but at the women.
“Sometimes, it seems we’re making progress. We’ll see slight improvements. She’ll have more lucid periods that seem to last longer, then something sets her off and she’s lost to the feral side. When she recovers, we’re back where we started. She certainly keeps us on our toes, but we’ll keep trying, Ridge. There are many different options for us to work with, and when we see those improvements, however small, it gives us hope. She seems to enjoy the art therapy, though some of her paintings are troubling.”
Ridge frowned. “How so?”
Grace went to a cupboard and pulled out several paintings. Lucille had used mostly black and gray, but it was obvious what we were seeing. The paintings depicted a cell or dungeon of some kind.
“Do you think these are based on a memory of a real place or her imagination?” Ridge’s voice had a tremor to it.
“It’s entirely possible, Ridge, that it’s real,” Grace said somberly. “I asked her once when she was having a more rational period, but as soon as she saw the painting, it sent her into a shift, so I’ve not forced the issue. Given her reaction, I’d say that yes, this is a memory and it haunts her, but she’s not ready to face it yet. But don’t give up on her. We haven’t.”
While Grace and Ridge spoke, I turned my attention to Lucille. She was still engrossed in her painting, so I took the opportunity to examine her. If you didn’t look too close or didn’t know what to look for, she just looked like an older lady enjoying her hobby. However, when I studied her closer, there was a vacancy in her eyes and a slackness in her demeanor.
Ridge had warned me on our way over that despite her non-threatening appearance, Lucille might shift unpredictably and put up a fierce struggle to escape due to her feral nature. If I hadn’t been at the gas station that day and accepted a ride with the Ashworths—a wholesome human family who knew nothing of the shifters in town—how long would it have been before I’d have snapped and gone completely feral? How long if this amazing, generous, fake fiancé of mine—who’d helped me so much in the short time I’d known him—hadn’t come into my life?
Thinking that hunters may have damaged this woman who meant so much to Ridge made my wolf ache for her, fueling her anger all the more.
Grace and Ridge finished their conversation, and the therapist left. Lucille’s attention drifted from her painting to Ridge. A flicker of recognition shone in her eyes, only to vanish quickly. But she remained focused on him.
“Hi, Aunt Lucille, it’s Ridge. Your painting’s beautiful.”
She gave him a coy smile and nodded.
“I’ve missed you, and I want you to meet someone. Aunt Lucille, this is Tori. She is my—” he broke off, clearly unsure how to introduce me.
Our relationship—or non-relationship—status was obvious here. He had no qualms telling everyone else that I was his fiancée, but he couldn’t lie to his aunt. I understood that, but I hated not hearing him say that I was his fiancée. I’d grown accustomed to it, something I started realizing I wanted more than anything.
Letting my emotions simmer down, I jumped in and finished the sentence for Ridge. “I’m his partner in crime at the moment. I’m really happy to meet you, Lucille.”
Snapping to stiff attention, Lucille studied me intently. She scanned me from head to toe, then snarled and bared her teeth at me. In a matter of a second, she went from a sweet older woman to a completely feral wolf.
The change was so fast, and I was too shocked to react in time. Ridge’s large black wolf leaped in front of me, responding fast enough to pin his aunt while her wolf squirmed on the ground, frothing at the mouth and clawing him all over.
Chaos erupted as the feral wolf battled Ridge for longer than I’d have thought possible, but he held his own. He placed himself between his aunt and the door, preventing her from leaving the room. I kept myself as far back as possible, not wanting to distract him from the fight.
He may have more than tripled her in size, but her ferocity to get to the door was astounding. She wanted out and didn’t care who stood in her way. She threw herself at him, snarling and biting, spittle flying from her mouth as she fought to get past. Ridge didn’t fight back, merely defended himself, and though their blood splashed the walls, I knew they were both healing as quickly as they were getting injured.
Suddenly, Lucille got Ridge into a vulnerable position and went for his throat.
A gasp escaped my lips. Ridge looked over at me, and Lucille took the opportunity to clamp her teeth into him. Screaming penetrated my brain, and I realized it was coming from me.
With a shake of Ridge’s massive wolf head, he flung her off him and tossed her against the wall. The sound of the smaller wolf hitting the wall reverberated astonishingly loud in the quiet room, and I was surprised the staff didn’t come running in from all directions.
Much to my amazement, Lucille got back up and went for him again, despite having damaged the drywall. But she was tiring. Ridge used his body weight to knock her down and keep her pinned. She’d put up a hell of a fight, and I wasn’t sure if she was finished.
Shock had me paralyzed, and it wasn’t until Lucille stopped fighting and slowly calmed down that I could function properly again. Was that what I looked like when I was feral? Could I be as bad as that?
If that was how I acted, people were even less safe around me than I’d thought.
Ridge eased off his aunt and released her when she no longer appeared to be a threat. He stayed in his wolf form as he moved backward, never taking his eyes off his aunt while shielding me behind him. But he didn’t have to worry about me moving out from behind the shield of his body. I wouldn’t risk getting close to his aunt for my safety and her sanity. When she became lucid, I could only imagine the guilt that would plague her. If our roles were reversed, the guilt would eat me alive.
Lucille shifted into human form as she lay prone on the floor. When she was done, Ridge quickly shifted, then covered her with a blanket from the bed. He scooped her up and settled her on the bed before turning to a box by the door and grabbing a spare pair of pants from it, which he pulled on.
