Chapter Two: The Wolf Beneath His Skin
1345 Words
Cassian stared at me as though I had just spoken a language only the dead were supposed to know.
“Who told you that name?”
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
I pressed my back against the door.
“Your wolf.”
The silence that followed was so complete that I could hear the faint crackle of the fireplace behind him.
Cassian's eyes narrowed.
“You're saying you can hear him.”
I didn't answer.
His jaw tightened.
“Nora.”
There was something different in the way he said my name this time. Less like an Alpha questioning a servant and more like a man trying to understand whether the person standing in front of him was a threat.
I had no idea what answer would keep me alive.
So I gave him the truth.
“Yes.”
He looked away.
For the first time since I'd entered the room, Cassian seemed genuinely unsettled.
I watched him carefully.
Most werewolves never realized how strange it was to hear their own wolves described by someone else. They treated their wolves as instinct, as a voice buried somewhere beneath their thoughts.
To me, wolves were separate.
They had personalities.
Opinions.
Memories.
Secrets.
Cassian's wolf was the strangest one I'd ever heard.
And he was watching me.
He doesn't remember.
I looked at Cassian.
He frowned.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You reacted.”
“I didn't.”
“You did.”
His voice sharpened.
I forced myself to remain still.
Tell him.
Rook sounded impatient now.
He deserves to know.
“Your wolf says you don't remember.”
Cassian went completely still.
“Remember what?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why would he say that?”
“I don't know.”
“Stop saying you don't know.”
“Then stop asking questions I can't answer.”
The words escaped before I could stop them.
One of the corners of Cassian's mouth moved.
It wasn't quite a smile.
More like surprise.
Perhaps nobody spoke to him that way.
“You're either very brave,” he said, “or very foolish.”
“People have called me both.”
“Which one are you?”
“I haven't decided.”
That almost made him smile again.
Almost.
Then Rook spoke.
She's afraid.
I hated how accurately he could read me.
Cassian stepped closer.
I immediately moved sideways.
His eyes followed me.
“You don't need to be afraid of me.”
His wolf growled.
That's a lie.
My stomach tightened.
I looked toward the door.
“I should go.”
“No.”
The single word stopped me.
“You'll stay here tonight.”
My head snapped around.
“Why?”
“Because until I understand what you are, I can't allow you to walk around my territory.”
“I'm a healer.”
“You're a woman who can hear wolves.”
“So?”
“So that makes you dangerous.”
I stared at him.
“You don't even know what I can do.”
“I know enough.”
“No. You don't.”
Something flashed across his eyes.
Anger.
But beneath it was something else.
Fear.
Not fear of me.
Fear of what I might know.
I heard Rook again.
Ask him about the forest.
My pulse quickened.
“What happened in the forest?”
Cassian's expression changed.
“What forest?”
“The one from my memory.”
He stared at me.
“What memory?”
“The night I was six.”
For the first time, Cassian looked genuinely confused.
“I wasn't there.”
“You were.”
“No.”
“You were standing beside a black wolf.”
His face hardened.
“Nora.”
“I saw you.”
“You're mistaken.”
“I saw your face.”
“You were six.”
“I know how old I was.”
He took another step toward me.
“You have no memory of me.”
“I didn't say I remembered you.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Then what did you see?”
I hesitated.
“A wolf.”
“What did it look like?”
“Black.”
Cassian said nothing.
“Gold eyes.”
Still nothing.
“And you were standing beside it.”
His expression became unreadable.
Then Rook spoke.
Tell her the truth.
Cassian suddenly closed his eyes.
His hand went to his temple.
I watched him carefully.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine.”
He lowered his hand.
For a moment, I thought he might tell me something.
Instead, he said, “You will sleep in the healer's quarters tonight.”
“I can return to my own room.”
“No.”
“Alpha—”
“That wasn't a request.”
There it was.
The Alpha I'd heard about.
Cold.
Controlling.
Impossible to argue with.
I hated that part of him.
Rook didn't.
Good.
I stared at the empty space in front of Cassian.
“You like ordering people around.”
Cassian raised an eyebrow.
“You're speaking to me as though you're talking to someone else.”
I realized my mistake.
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
I could hear Rook breathing inside him.
She lies badly.
I almost laughed.
Instead, I said, “Your wolf is annoying.”
Cassian's eyes widened.
For the first time, genuine disbelief crossed his face.
“My wolf?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That I'm a bad liar.”
Cassian stared at me.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
It was quiet and brief, but it transformed his face.
He looked younger.
Less like the Alpha everyone feared.
I hadn't expected that.
Neither had he.
The smile disappeared almost immediately.
“You shouldn't speak to him.”
“I don't exactly have a choice.”
“You do.”
“No. I don't.”
Something in my answer made him pause.
I looked toward the window.
Moonlight spilled across the floor.
“I've heard wolves since I was six.”
Cassian's expression changed again.
“You said that was when your memory started.”
“Yes.”
“What happened when you were six?”
I looked at him.
“I don't remember.”
That was the truth.
Mostly.
I remembered fragments.
Snow.
My mother's voice.
Blood.
A black wolf.
A boy.
And a door.
A wooden door covered in strange symbols.
But whenever I tried to remember what was behind it, a pain would split through my skull.
I had stopped trying years ago.
Cassian watched me for a long moment.
“Get some rest.”
He walked toward the door.
I should have let him leave.
Instead, I heard Rook whisper.
Don't let him go.
I frowned.
Why?
Cassian opened the door.
Before he stepped through, I asked, “Why did you tell everyone I was dangerous?”
He looked back.
“Because you are.”
“Are you afraid of me?”
“No.”
Rook answered for him.
Yes.
I stared at Cassian.
He left.
The door closed behind him.
I stood alone in the chamber.
For the first time all night, I could breathe.
Then I heard something.
Not Rook.
Not another wolf.
A faint scratching sound came from beneath the floor.
I looked down.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
I crouched.
The sound stopped.
I placed my palm against the stone.
Nothing.
I was about to stand when a whisper rose from somewhere below me.
Not a wolf's voice.
A woman's.
“Nora.”
My entire body went cold.
I knew that voice.
I hadn't heard it in sixteen years.
But some voices live deeper than memory.
I pressed my palm harder against the floor.
“Mom?”
Nothing.
I waited.
The voice came again.
Barely more than a breath.
“Don't trust his wolf.”
I stumbled backward.
The scratching started again.
This time it was louder.
And whatever was underneath the floor was trying to get out.
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