Chapter 8: Breaking Fast
The first thing she was aware of was the scent: rich, dark coffee and something sweet, caramelizing butter. Then warmth, a solid heat along her back. Memory returned in a gentle wave—the nightmare, the clutching panic, the anchor of his body beside her.
Lila opened her eyes. Grey dawn light filtered through the windows, softening the room. The fire was now just embers. And Kade was still there, on top of the blankets, a steady line of warmth against her side. He was awake, propped on one elbow, watching her. His face was softer in the weak light, the harsh lines of pain and vigilance smoothed by the quiet hour.
“You stayed,” she murmured, her voice sleep-rough.
“Said I would.” His reply was simple. His gaze tracked over her features, a cataloguing that felt more intimate than a touch. “The dream?”
“Gone. You chased it off.” She pushed herself up, the linen sheet pooling at her waist. She was still in her soft sweater and jeans from the night before, rumpled and slept-in. He hadn’t moved, even to get under the covers. He’d just… held the line.
A flicker of motion caught her eye. On the heavy wooden trunk at the foot of the bed sat a tray. A steaming mug of coffee, a plate heaped with golden-brown pancakes studded with dark, wild berries, a small ceramic pot of honey.
“I didn’t hear you get up,” she said.
“You were dead asleep. Figured you needed it more than I needed to lie here staring at the ceiling.” He finally moved, swinging his legs off the bed with a suppressed grunt. The bandages across his ribs were visible through his thin t-shirt, a stark white contrast to the dark fabric. He fetched the tray and brought it back, setting it carefully on her lap.
The gesture was so profoundly domestic, so utterly at odds with the man who’d carried the scent of blood and violence into the room hours before, that she just stared for a moment.
“Maggie’s recipe. The berries are from the south meadow. She says the honey’s from our own hives.” He stood beside the bed, suddenly looking like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. “Eat. You used a lot of energy last night, between the training and the terror.”
She picked up a fork, cut a small bite. The pancakes were fluffy, the berries tart and bursting. It was delicious. She took a sip of the coffee—strong, just how she liked it. He’d noticed.
“You’re not eating?” she asked.
“Already did. Downstairs with the early patrol. They didn’t find any more signs of our visitor. Just… silence where there shouldn’t be silence.” He dragged a hand through his hair, the gesture weary. “No birdsong for a half-mile radius where it crossed.”
A chill touched her spine despite the warm food. “That’s not normal.”
“No.” He watched her take another bite, his gray eyes intent. “How are the burns?”
She flexed her fingers, rolling her wrists. The skin was tight, but the raw, silvery pain was gone, reduced to a faint, manageable itch. “Better. Much better. Your magic salve works.”
“Maggie’s,” he corrected automatically, but his lips quirked. “But I applied it.”
The air between them tightened. The memory of his hands on her skin, here in this room, was as palpable as the tray on her lap. She forked another piece of pancake, drizzled it with the thick, golden honey. She offered it to him on the fork. “Here. Taste your handiwork.”
He hesitated, a conflict flashing in his eyes—Alpha propriety warring with the simple, shared intimacy of the act. The propriety lost. He leaned down and took the bite from her fork, his eyes never leaving hers. A drop of honey clung to his lower lip. He caught it with his tongue.
“Good,” he said, the word a low rumble.
“Yeah,” she agreed, her breath a little short.
He straightened, but the space felt charged. “I have to go. Pack meeting in twenty. Things to secure.” He said it like he was forcing the words out. “You should stay up here. Rest. Maggie will come check on you.”
“Kade.” She put the fork down. “Last night… thank you. For staying. I know it wasn’t just protocol.”
He was silent for a long moment, looking at her there in his bed, surrounded by his scent, eating food he’d brought her. A possessive warmth flared in his gaze, hot and undeniable. It was there and then gone, shuttered behind his usual careful control.
“It wasn’t,” he finally admitted, the concession seeming to cost him. He reached out, not for her face, but for the tray. His fingers, blunt and calloused, brushed against hers as he adjusted the honey pot. The contact was electric, a jolt of pure sensation. His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Finish your breakfast, Lila.”
He turned and walked out, closing the door softly behind him. The room felt instantly larger, emptier, colder. But the imprint of his presence, the ghost of that look, lingered. She brought her fingers to her lips, staring at the closed door.
The pancakes suddenly tasted like promise, and the quiet of the house felt like the calm before a storm.
She had just finished the last bite, setting the fork down with a soft clink, when a firm knock rattled the door. It wasn’t Kade’s deliberate tap. This was impatient.
“Come in?”
Maggie bustled in, her arms full of folded linen and a basket of herb sachets. Her keen eyes took in the tray, the rumpled bed, Lila’s sleep-tousled state, and a knowing smile played on her lips. It wasn’t mocking. It was wistful.
“I see the mountain lion brought you breakfast in bed. A first in recorded history.” She set the linen down on the armchair. “How are you feeling? And don’t say ‘fine.’ Give me facts.”
“Stiff. Tired. But the burns are just itchy now. The nightmare… it was vivid.”
Maggie nodded, coming over to peer at Lila’s arms with a professional eye. “Good. The tissue is healing clean. The nightmare isn’t surprising. Your psychic boundaries are like Swiss cheese right now—everything seeps in. Including the general anxiety thrumming through this entire territory.” She pressed a sachet into Lila’s hand. “Lavender and cedar. For your pockets. It’ll help a little.”
“Maggie… the thing Kade fought. The silence it leaves…”
The older woman’s face sobered. “I felt it. A cold spot on the psychic landscape. Like a void. We’re looking into it.” She bustled around, straightening the room with efficient motions. “He stayed with you. All night.”
It wasn’t a question. Lila felt a blush creep up her neck. “I had a bad dream. He… helped.”
“He did more than that,” Maggie said softly, pausing by the bed. She touched the indentation on the blanket where Kade had lain. “He hasn’t slept in this bed since Sarah. He uses it, but he doesn’t rest in it. He’s been sleeping in the chair by the window, or in his study.” She met Lila’s eyes. “Last night, he rested.”
The weight of the statement settled over Lila. It felt too big, too soon, a responsibility she hadn’t asked for. “I don’t want to be a replacement.”
“You couldn’t be. And he’s too smart to try.” Maggie’s smile returned, gentle. “You might be a new beginning, though. A terrifying prospect for a man who’s made a home in his own ruins.” She picked up the empty tray. “Now, up. A shower will do you wonders. There are fresh clothes in the wardrobe—some of my things, they’ll fit you well enough. Come downstairs when you’re ready. The pack doesn’t bite. Much.”
Alone again, Lila sat in the lingering quiet. The ghost of his warmth was fading from the sheets. She showered in the connected bathroom, a spacious, tiled room as utilitarian as the bedroom. The hot water scoured away the last remnants of the nightmare. The clothes Maggie left were soft, worn jeans and a simple green sweater.
She looked at herself in the fogged mirror. The woman who looked back had shadows under her eyes, but her gaze was clearer than it had been in weeks. She was living in a werewolf’s bedroom, her magic was a barely-controlled spark, and something that smelled of ozone and rot was stalking the woods. But for the first time since her life shattered, she didn’t feel alone in the chaos.
She left the sanctuary of his room and descended into the heart of the pack house.
The main living area was a hive of subdued activity. Several pack members she recognized from her first day were present—Ethan, the serious beta, was marking a topographic map spread on the large oak table. Two others were checking and cleaning hunting rifles with practiced efficiency. The air was tense, focused.
Kade stood at the head of the table, his back to her. He was speaking in a low, commanding tone. “...double the patrols on the northern boundary. I want scent markers refreshed every six hours. If the silence moves, I want to know before it reaches the tree line.”
He felt her presence. He always seemed to. He turned, his gaze finding her immediately. The possessive warmth from upstairs was gone, replaced by the Alpha’s mask. But she saw the flicker beneath it, the brief, unguarded scan that assured him she was okay.
“Lila. Good.” He gestured her over. “We’re strategizing. Your input might be useful.”
Ethan gave her a curt nod, his expression neutral. The others glanced up, curiosity in their eyes. She was the unknown variable, the witch who’d brought a new kind of trouble to their door.
“The thing you felt,” Kade said, his voice all business. “The void. In your training, has Maggie said anything about magical creatures that can suppress life, not just magic?”
She walked to the table, the map a sprawl of green contours and blue streams. “She mentioned banshees drain sound, but that’s more a selective omens. This feels… consumptive. Like it eats the environment.” She pointed to the marked area on the ridge. “It broke a mature tree. That’s physical strength, not just a psychic effect.”
“A physical void-walker,” Ethan mused, tapping a pencil against his teeth. “Not in any of the bestiaries.”
“Maybe it’s not from a bestiary,” Lila said quietly. All eyes turned to her. “My magic… the void-touch. What if it’s not just a scar? What if it’s a beacon, like you said, Kade. But what if it’s also a… a taste? Something out there now knows what that kind of energy smells like, and it’s hungry for more.”
The room went very still. The theory landed with the weight of a terrible probability.
Kade’s jaw tightened. He looked from her anxious face to the map, to the marked silence on the ridge. The pieces clicked into a dreadful picture.
“Then we don’t just guard the territory,” he said, his voice dropping into a gravelly certainty that brooked no argument. “We prepare for a hunt. And we use the bait we have.”
His eyes met Lila’s. The message was clear, and it sent a fresh tremor through her. She was under his protection. She was also, potentially, the key to drawing the monster out. The line between safety and strategy had just blurred into nothingness.
The pack meeting dissolved into a flurry of assignments, but Kade held his place, a fixed point in the sudden storm. He watched Lila absorb it all, the fear in her green eyes warring with a dawning resolve. She wasn’t running. She was leaning in, reading the map, asking Ethan sharp questions about patrol sight lines.
He felt it then, a shift deep in the bedrock of his world. The quiet devotion of the morning was gone, burned away by the harsh light of day and a new, more tangible threat. But in its place was something harder, more durable. A partnership, forged not in comfort, but in the shared recognition of a coming fight.
She finally looked up from the map, catching his stare across the busy room. A question hung in her gaze, and a challenge.
He gave her the barest, almost imperceptible nod.
Together, it meant.
The hunt was on.