Blood & Wine

11 | Dasher

Eden held my face between her hands, studying the bruises. "These healed faster than I thought," she remarked to herself, brushing her thumb against my cheekbones. She closed her eyes and whispered, "Look at that or look at this, heal these wounds with a kiss." A second later, she tugged my head down and pressed her lips to my cheek.

A warm, tingling feeling spread across my cheeks as the wound stitched itself together. She nodded in satisfaction. On the other side of the room, Calla was gathering supplies together in a bag. They were going to teach me how to do a protection spell and protection charm for later.

To wear when I Changed.

No one had mentioned the broken furniture, or the fact that I had lost my temper last night. In fact, both of them were going about the day as if Fynley and Jagger hadn't visited, the furniture hadn't been broken, and I hadn't been ready to kill for two people I had met not even a full day before.

Another day in Magus, Eden had assured me while rubbing my shoulder, a distracted look on her face. She was busy herself, planning for the day. My arrival had thrown a wrench in her plans.

Calla and Eden had a calendar on the wall of their refrigerator that magically put their plans on it when they made them. Most of it was in dark green—Eden's favorite color—because Eden was the only one with a concrete schedule. When something overlapped, the calendar shrieked until the problem was adjusted. Some things, however, were etched in orange on random days—Calla's plans, which involved dating, Ezekiel, and picking up supplies.

In two days, however, on a day otherwise free, written in blue, was The Change. That was my plan. I had made it to the calendar, but I almost wished I hadn't.

I didn't want to Change.

Last night had been terrifying. Even when Fynley had been pulled off of me, the anger I had possessed raged through for a better part of an hour. I hadn't given Calla and Eden their magic back, hadn't been able to understand anything but basic commands. Neither of them had seen inclined to get it back either way.

Or maybe I hadn't noticed.

The problem was that Fynley and Jagger had disrespected them, and, as long as Eden was my cousin and Calla was my friend, I wouldn't tolerate that. I had never allowed men to disrespect women, especially the ones I was close to, but I had never been violent before. In high school, I was voted Most Peaceful, as well as had been known to mediate all the issues between bickering classmates.

But the first thing I had done was fight. I hadn't thought about it, just relied on my instinct to hit him, and it felt so good to see Fynley on the ground. It was where he belonged.

For a second, just for a brief second, he was one of the werewolves that had slaughtered my family, and I wanted him dead.

I still wanted him dead.

Whenever we discussed it, I would tell Eden I had no interest in him being there when I Changed. She didn't like him, Calla didn't like him, he didn't like either one of them. He had slaughtered their Coven, too. I didn't want to learn anything from a man like that. A werewolf like that.

Eden seemed sure about meeting him today, though. She had only mentioned it once, saying she would be there to help me learn to do a protection charm, but Calla could help me with the spell. No one had listened to me; I also hadn't said much.

The anger felt better than the grief, though.

"I have everything," Calla announced, stepping into a pair of fuzzy boots. She zipped the tan, plain-cloth bag and hefted it over her shoulder. I hadn't seen what she put in there, but whatever it was was heavy. She shook her hair out.