Chapter 4
Bandage pulled. Skin itched underneath. I sat on edge of bed and tried not to scratch.
Bedroom still warm. Golden light from lamp made everything soft. Mansion quiet except for faint tick of hallway clock. My left shoulder throbbed. White lace nightgown slipped off shoulder. Gauze underneath showed small brown dot where blood seeped through.
I hadn't looked since she wrapped it. My hand shook when I reached for tape.
I peeled corner. Adhesive tugged. I breathed through nose. Pulled slow.
Gauze lifted. Air hit wound.
Three lines. Deep. Raw. Claw marks raked from collarbone down toward shoulder blade. Edges torn, not cut. Like something with weight behind it. Blood had dried dark at rims. Center still wet, pink and angry. Skin around it flushed hot.
I stared. Stomach dropped.
This wasn't from his grip. His fingers left bruises on my arm. This was different. This was older by hours.
Memory slipped in before I could stop it.
Dusk. Cold air. Blue-gray light.
I saw his chest first. Bare. Warm despite chill. His arms held me up. My eyes closed. My head tipped back against his shoulder. I felt his breath on my hair. Smelled pine and cold earth and sweat.
His hand held mine. Palm to palm. Fingers laced.
Then light.
Golden branching light started where our hands joined. Thin at first. Like veins of light. Spread up my wrist. Crawled. Warm. Not burn. Pulse. It brightened. Traced paths under my skin. I felt it more than saw it. Hum. Low shimmer. My eyes still closed in memory but I felt glow through eyelids.
I gasped in that memory. In bedroom now I gasped same way.
I pressed gauze back down too fast. Tape stuck crooked. Pain flared.
Mark not dream. I told myself dusk flash was dream. Stress. Hit head. But wound proved otherwise. Claw caused wound. Embrace followed. Hands joined. Light transferred.
My right hand went to left wrist. Bare skin. No glow now. Only faint itch where light had been. Same spot that burned in car for him. I remembered analysis — his face in rear seat, rubbing wrist, pained confusion. Same time I bled.
Bond linked pain. Wound on me echoed on him.
Steps sounded in hall. Heavy. His steps. Pocket chain would clink with each stride. I froze. Hand still on bandage.
Door didn't open. Steps passed. Went toward foyer. Chandelier light flickered under door crack as he moved past.
I let out breath I held.
I stood. Went to mirror over dresser. Turned shoulder to light. Pulled lace down careful. Looked again at bandage. Adjusted it flat. My reflection showed pale face, long blonde hair tangled, eyes wide. Nightgown lace trim trembled with my breathing.
I touched wrist again. No light, but skin felt warmer than other wrist. Like sun stayed there.
I whispered, "You felt this too."
No answer. Room empty. But memory of bare-chested man holding me eyes closed felt solid. Not invented. He held me like he knew me. Like he caught me after claws hit.
Fear still there. Deep. But shift happened underneath. Curiosity pushed up. What was he? What was I becoming that claws marked me and light chose my wrist?
I pulled nightgown back up. Smoothed lace over bandage. Hid wound. Hid wrist. If older man saw golden light, he'd grip harder. He already dragged me through foyer once. He couldn't see mark.
I sat back on bed. Listened to mansion settle. Dusk memory faded but left heat on skin. Wound throbbed in time with wrist itch. Linked. Real.
I understood now. Wound and mark not separate. One caused other. Transfer happened skin to skin.
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I didn't know lycan lore. Didn't need full explanation yet. I knew enough: he held me, light moved, pain shared.
I kept hand over wrist. Waited for glow to return.
