Claws & Crochet

Part 38

Content warning: scene contains depictions of self-harm. 

WARNER

The smell of blood hits my nose the same moment I hear her gasp.

Less than a second and I'm at her side, staring in horror at the deep cut on the back of her forearm. My knife drips a delicate, crimson stream, seeming to enjoy what it stole from her.

"What happened?" I press my bare hand against the wound, desperate to keep anymore of her from leaking out.

Zoey stares up at me with wild, confused eyes. "Why can't I wake up?"

The desperate words are their own kind of blade stabbing deep into my chest.

"This isn't a dream, Zoey."

Moving slow, so as not to scare her, I ease the knife out of her grip. I toss it into the woods, not able to look at the weapon a moment longer. With careful hands, I extend her arm and examine the wound. The slash is long, but not as deep as I first thought. Quickly, I strip my shirt off again and wind the fabric tightly around the wound, hoping to staunch any further bleeding.

"You keep stripping," she mutters, gaze still distracted.

A tiny flare of hope streaks through my chest. Maybe she isn't completely terrified of me. Maybe I can save this.

But the second I'm done tying off my shirt, Zoey steps away from me, heading farther down the dark road. I follow.

Guilt tears at my insides. She cut herself because of me. I should've done more to prepare her for the change. Or done a better job at convincing her to leave me to deal with the mountain lion. Instead, I gave in to my secret desire to share every part of myself, and now she won't look at me.

It's hard for me to fully comprehend how outlandish this is for her. The existence of werewolves has always been a truth in my life. The supernatural is my norm.

I glance over and clench my jaw at the sight of her walking with her arms wrapped around herself protectively, head bowed, a slight limp to her walk. What I wouldn't give to go back in time, reverse the clock fifteen minutes, when I had her body against mine, her laughter in my ear, her lips on my neck.

Zoey probably wants to reverse the clock for a whole different reason.

She just learned the world she thought she knew has more hidden bits to it. Dangerous, frightening secrets.

"You can ask me questions," I offer. "If you want."

Anything to get her talking again. But she seems uninterested in my olive branch as time and silence stretches between us. Just as I'm contemplating tearing out my hair by the roots, she speaks.

"How long have you . . ." She waves a hand, taking in the whole of me while keeping her eyes resolutely on the ground.

"Born this way. Although, I didn't turn for the first time until I was thirteen. A whole other level of puberty."

Instead of engaging, she moves on to the next question. "What do you eat?"

"Well, I'm not a vegetarian."

She doesn't laugh. Not even a twitch at the corner of her mouth.

I try not to sigh. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Although I do hunt small game when I'm in wolf form. And the pack will sometimes take down a deer or two."

"The pack?" Her voice ticks up a notch and a new wave of bitter fear mixes with her scent. I cringe. Probably shouldn't have revealed there's more than just one werewolf roaming Pine Falls.

If Roderick knew how easily I let that slip, I'd be in for a major beat down. There are plenty of humans in town that are in on the secret, but those are locals. People who grew up knowing about us. Roderick is not a fan of outsiders, as he refers to them.

"We keep to our own." Is one of his favorite mottos.

Zoey's breath hitches out faster than a moment before. She's panicking, and it's all because of me.

"I know this is freaky. But I swear you're not in a horror movie." I try out my most charming smile. "More like a paranormal romantic comedy."

Zoey's gaze flicks to the deep gashes on my chest, to the dark, ominous woods surrounding us, finally settling on my face with an incredulous stare.

I get her point.

When Zoey looks away again, we fall back into silence. She trudges forward, and I wince with every limping step she takes, fighting the urge to wrap a supportive arm around her waist.

"Who else?" She whispers.

Zoey never whispers.

Even still, I can't give her what she wants. "I can't name names."

Another few minutes of no talking, then, "The Dark Moon Riders."

I flinch. It wasn't a question though.

"Full moon?"

"We get a stronger urge to change those nights. The pack will head a few miles out of town and then go on a hunt."

"Silver bullets?"

"You looking to kill me?" I ask with an almost hopeful laugh. At this point I might welcome her attack. Anything to bring back the vibrant, confident woman I know, rather than this scared, confused shell of her.

"Are you looking to kill me?" She stares up at me now, her eyes so wide they seem to take over her face. And I lose all ability to joke about the situation.

"Fuck. No. Gods no." I want to grab her arms, pull her into my chest, clutch her close until she understands how desperate I am about her.

But that would only scare her more.

Instead, I offer my vulnerabilities. Hoping to put us on more even ground. "Silver or lead. Gets us all the same. We're not immortal." I gesture at the cuts on my chest that throb with a constant sting. "Just more durable. And stronger."

"And warmer," she murmurs. The comment came out so quiet, I doubt she meant for me to hear. But I did, and I hope.

As the minutes pass, I watch her from my peripheral, silently begging for more questions. But she's curled in on herself and doesn't pay any attention to me.

My body aches in a variety of ways. The bruises and cuts from my fight nag, but I know they'll be half-healed by morning. It's the pain underneath my ribcage that's getting to me. The ache spreads, radiating out from the spot where Zoey has taken up residence.

If I don't find a way to earn her forgiveness, her acceptance . . .

I'm not sure when Zoey became such an important piece of my life. It could be as early as the moment she started crocheting while surrounded by bikers. All I know now is that the thought of her walking away makes me want to howl in denial.

I'll fix this. Somehow.

I've opened my mouth to say something, anything, when a set of headlights flashes up ahead.

Author's note: Thank you all so much for reading! Zoey & Warner are already getting so much more love than I expected!!! I just want to let you know that Claws & Crochet will be taking a two week break for the end-of-year holidays and so I can build up a nice buffer of scenes going forward. New chapters will start up again the first week of January. See you soon! (And for those of you who can't wait, Ream members get to read ahead 5 chapters FYI.)