The black wolf left Alice alone for the rest of the morning. Fixed things around the cabin while the human world bled in through her phone. He overheard some of the conversations but paid little attention. Words could be tempered and twisted to hide their true meaning; scent was a better map of emotions, especially the primal ones found in prey. Uncertainty, panic—fear. His hunter's nose had already memorized the nuances from Alice whenever she spoke of her lover. Until those appeared, there was no need to keep alert to the phone calls.

The rain returned. Daylight thinned to winter gloom. Miserable conditions that disappeared against the warm glow of the hearth. The black wolf couldn't remember the last time he had been inside without feeling trapped by the walls. The bite of the bullet had faded from his body, yet his usual restlessness hadn't replaced the weakness from his injuries. His skin didn't itch to change into fur and his teeth didn't ache to bite down until he tasted blood.

It puzzled him. Was he tired? No. His balls tightened whenever a draft brought Alice's scent out of the bedroom. Simply, there was a stillness in his heart that felt nothing like emptiness.

After he finished bringing in the driest logs from the woodpile, Alice's scent spiked with shock. Then that particular fear stung his nose, overwhelming the wood dust and dried moss. She had also fallen still and quiet.

He found her standing near the bedroom window with her gaze on her phone. Hair spilled into her face. Her breath sounded choked. A glance over her shoulder revealed the cause: there were pictures on the screen, photos of her lover fucking another girl. The black wolf dismissed it with a glance and returned his focus to Alice. Her expression wavered until she bit down on her lip, attacking herself to keep in control.

It made him want to catch her by the chin and soothe her raw mouth with a few careful licks, but he knew it was better to first pull her struggle out into the open. He leaned in until his mouth brushed her ear. "Should shake off any guilt of yours."

She jerked and faced him with flushed cheeks. Her voice sounded thin as she said, "Do you always spy over people's shoulders?"

"You looked hurt."

Confusion flashed over her face. She didn't seem to understand why he would care. Then her expression smoothed out, matching the sudden briskness in her movements while she shut off her phone and left it on the windowsill. "It's just needling on her part."

No, downplaying the bitch's malice was no good. He'd nip at any excuse like that. "But you'll go back to her."

After a brief silence, she met his gaze. Bitterness, shame, and guilt fought in her scent. "Yes."

Her lips tightened into the same unhappy line as when he'd first seen her through the cabin's window. Any hint of passion revealed from their earlier fuck had been snuffed out as thoroughly as a spark.

A fear so familiar as to become a better comfort than freedom. She recognized the bleak path of her life but wouldn't escape into the unknown. Worse, she had accepted things as final; she likely didn't realize her witch-blood gave her enough time to easily outlive the woman. In her mind, her whole existence was set in stone: obey until death.

The black wolf had always seen humans as short-lived creatures, but now a handful of decades seemed as punishing an amount of time as his own cursed eternity. The idea of Alice being leashed to the bitch for fifty, maybe even sixty years left his teeth pricking against his tongue. He waited until they were normal again before he spoke. "She's put some sort of spell on you. Not in the way of a witch, but still a spell."

She nodded. "I suppose that's as good as any other explanation. A spell woven over the years."

He said nothing. His hunt for her heart wouldn't include words. The woman used those. What Alice needed was care, comfort, and protection. She needed to learn that a lover's closeness meant safety instead of suffocation. He could offer this, but she still had to accept it.

Her next breath came out as a sigh. Then she deliberately turned away from where her phone waited. "I need to stop thinking about it."

A small but good step. Now to see if she wished to be left alone or remain in his presence. "I'm working on the woodpile next. The rack is rotted through."

Maybe she'd held the same doubt about him, because her eyes lit up in relief.

The rain had thinned to a drizzle. Thick mud slowed their steps. She didn't complain and seemed intent while he showed her how to empty the old wood rack and build a new one. Fresh fear peppered her scent—the worry of doing something wrong—yet she also threw her full effort into the work. No surprise there; the mild irritations of damp clothes and tired muscles couldn't compare to the usual suffering in her life. Once her mind was set, she knew how to face difficulty without flinching. Her will was strong, just turned in all the wrong directions.

What might that will achieve if she ever lost enough fear?

He found himself thinking about the dead pelt up in the attic. It was steeped in magic, as changed as cowhide tanned into leather. Maybe Franny Harford's granddaughter could succeed where the old witch had failed. Maybe a full heart could transform the wearer in a way an empty heart couldn't...

The new woodpile took most of the day to build and fill with logs. Weariness mingled with satisfaction in Alice's scent while she cooked them dinner. He checked for any new leaks in the roof and then lit a fire in the hearth, staring at the flames long after adding enough kindling to get them going. Stacking a cord of wood hadn't tired him at all, yet the strange stillness to his body remained. Even if he shifted into his fur, he'd do nothing more than lie in the glow of firelight with his ears twitching toward the clatter of dishes to track Alice throughout the kitchen.

Then she began humming, barely heard above the sizzling pans. A pleasant tune he didn't recognize. A log snapped, mingling with her soft voice, and his earliest memory flooded his senses. That campfire he barely recalled. Music mingling with smoke, food to fill his belly—and that same quietness in his heart. No, not quietness. Contentedness. Peace instead of struggle. Closeness instead of isolation.

And something else, something that replaced the numb nothingness he now carried with him. It was a warmth too raw for satisfaction. Sharp as hunger but sweeter. Lust? No.

Love.

The black wolf froze. Goddamn, he was fucked. His greed for her had blinded him to any deeper feelings. No one had ever slipped into his heart so completely, and all the better for it. He couldn't die. Even with her witch-blood, Alice could—and one day would. It was the last, spiteful twist to the curse, and other vargr had gone mad with such grief. In his gut, he knew his fate would be the same: a mindless beast caged by immortality, unable to escape what he'd had and what he'd lost.

The only way to avoid deeper pain would be to leave the cabin and let his brief days with Alice fade to a manageable scar. To abandon her, just as she feared.

A growl seethed in his throat. He hadn't felt this trapped since waking up in a grave and choking on dirt, but hid it and the rest of his thoughts while they ate together. Even so, her sensitive nature caught the change in his silence, and her movements were careful while she washed the dishes and he dried them. She also slipped over to the hearth afterward, facing the fire to avoid looking in his direction. It was practiced behavior, probably used to pacify her lover whenever possible.

He never wanted her to act like that, not around him. Every step toward her damned him further, but he still approached and nuzzled the back of her neck, losing himself in her scent.

At that, her body relaxed against his, soft and trusting. "You're completely recovered from being shot, aren't you?" The question sounded sad but calm. Ready for a bitter answer. "Well-fed and well-rested."

His teeth ached to catch her throat and keep her close. He managed to raise his head until his mouth brushed her temple instead. "Yes."

"Then there isn't anything keeping you here." Despite a tremor of fear, her voice remained even. Accepting. She knew how easily someone could vanish into the forest.

It was an open chance to leave. It was the last chance to avoid a future of agony. He'd do everything in his power to protect her but had lived with the curse too long to hope for the impossible. Was her love worth the rest of his existence?

He breathed in her scent again and decided, remembering enough words just in time. "Wouldn't say that."

Then his hand slid over her hip and found the heat between her legs. She twisted to face him, her desperation matching his as a long, rough kiss. He broke off only to rip at her shirt and bra, hearing her breath catch. When he moved to her jeans, she tentatively nuzzled at his jaw. It was the shyness of the movement as much as the sensation itself that snapped his control, and his hand hooked into her panties and jerked the fabric aside to expose her to his hunger.

She felt wet and swollen, but as soon as his fingers pushed into her slick lips, she flinched. Pain threaded through her scent. So did disappointment. "Wait. I'm too sore for that."

No problem, that. There were other ways to sate them both. "Take off your clothes."

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes." He had already stepped back and stripped to his jeans. His cock was rock hard from the sight of her bared tits and the taste of her in his mouth. "Take them off."

When she still hesitated, he glanced up while unbuckling his belt. "Scared now?"

Fire sparked in her eyes. Then she pulled off her torn shirt.

His balls tightened. She should be afraid of him but instead only grew indignant at the suggestion.

Even after he pinned her back against the floor, she spread her legs, refusing to cower despite her clear doubt. "I haven't been with a man in years, and Magdalene doesn't have much power in her hips. It feels like my cunt will split apart if there's so much as a finger up it."

Her tone sounded flat, without a hint of pleading. There was also a sudden, stubborn set to her jaw. She wasn't about to fight him, but her expression promised he wouldn't be able to make her beg him to stop. It was the type of confidence that held the bitter edge of experience.

The black wolf bit back a gut-deep snarl at the idea of her being raped. Better to save his anger for later, when it could help her. Instead, he moved enough to release her and brace his hands on either side. "I'll leave you alone there. Trust me, Alice."

She did, relaxing enough for lust to fill her eyes while she traced his jaw and mouth.

He muttered something, barely aware of words while she touched him. Then her smile came out, and he couldn't hold back any longer.

He covered every inch of her skin with his bite marks, scent, and seed. Hunted down what made her gasp and what made her bury fingers in his hair to hold on. Coaxed out her wildness until she lost all words. She was just as insatiable—by the time the fireplace logs had burned down, he'd left her panting for breath and yet her hips still twitched for a final round.

With an amused growl, he resettled between her thighs, cock still erect. She was too far along to hesitate at his power, instead arching her back to give him a better angle. He stroked her swollen cunt, testing its soreness.

She shivered in response, heat still in her eyes. "Colton?"

He almost shuddered back from hearing her use his name. It wasn't even his birth name, which he'd forgotten. Just one picked at random the last time he'd needed to be called something. Yet she spoke each syllable as though she treasured it—as though it were marked on her heart.

It took all his control to sound casual. "Trust me."

Then he caught her mouth with his and swallowed her moan, working their hips together. Stoking her with weight and pressure instead of penetration. Keeping himself in check despite her slick softness. His tongue found the raw spot on her lower lip made earlier that day. There was scar tissue as well. So many attempts to leash herself... He licked it as gently as possible even while changing the angle of his hips, pushing her over the edge.

Afterwards, she seemed too dazed to return to her usual caution, every muscle in her body relaxed while she traced his face.

He liked that, and liked seeing her act without restricting herself.

"Your eyes look green even in firelight," she murmured.

Were they green? He'd forgotten. It had been a long time since he'd bothered looking in a mirror or still water. "I'm not in my fur. And I know how to stay human."

When her fingers paused against his jaw in confusion, he showed her what he meant. He was so old that switching to his other eye color felt unnoticeable, like breathing. It was nothing more than starting the shift into his fur and stopping before he went all the way over.

She gasped but didn't flinch from his now-gold gaze. "You can change them?"

"Sure. Same with my teeth."

Her attention jumped to his mouth in a silent request. He indulged her by baring sharpened canines. To his surprise, she reached out to touch them, seemingly entranced. The brush of her fingers sank all the way into his heart as she said, "You could really hurt someone with just one bite."

"I could."

She paused and looked up at him, perhaps aware of her throat throbbing from the teeth marks he'd left. A spark of mischief appeared in her eyes, the same playfulness from when she'd teased him during his haircut. "You still think you can scare me."

Her hand slid to his shoulder as she leaned in and kissed him, deliberately flicking her tongue against his canines. For a breath, he savored her boldness. Then he caught her by the hair to keep her close and pulled her upright with him. Did she think he was too drained to do anything more? He could well tease her back.

Once she settled in his lap, he tested her bravery by moving his mouth down, letting his canines graze tender skin. Her thighs squeezed against him, shaking even before he caught her nipple between his teeth. She choked off a gasp and arched into him.

He bit lightly enough to pinch, nothing more, and felt her jerk in response. His tongue teased, soothing her just enough to intensify another tweak of his teeth. Every time she managed to say his name, he sucked instead, drawing out her voice until he tasted her sweat. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as soon as he moved to the other one.

Her hair spilled over her shoulders, electrifying him with her scent, but he stayed patient, outlasting her long enough that she fell quiet with exhaustion, only able to pump her hips against his cock. By the time he stopped, her nipples were swollen and flushed, enough so that whatever she wore would rub against them and remind her of his teeth. She shivered again and tried to kiss him.

He stopped her. Confusion flashed across her face. Before worry could replace it, he licked her mouth and let his voice slide into a rasp. "On your back again."

Then he licked one of his canines to make it clear what he had in mind. She laughed, breathless and excited.

This time, she opened her legs to him with raw eagerness. This time, he gave in to his hunger, using his teeth and tongue to make every inch of her cunt his. She came fast and he wasn't far behind, rubbing himself off while the head of his cock pressed against her swollen lips.

She panted up at him with a glowing smile. He couldn't look away, and his heart, damned and unrepentant about it, ached with fullness as she said, "I'll never be afraid of you."