I remain mostly silent as we leave the shed. The pixie is now gone, and Shade looks well past the breaking point of frustration. He gripes the entire way home about the nuisances that come with sleeping with a pixie. I nod every once in a while, but I barely listen, lost in my own thoughts.

After Jules dropped the bomb that Slate was sent after me, he told me that they haven’t gotten him to confess who sent him yet. I get the feeling, though, that Slate was supposed to kill me that day, not rape me. I’m sure death would’ve come afterward, but then Legend showed up.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Jules murmurs as we make our way up the stairs to his bedroom.

“I’m fine,” I lie. “I’m just tired and really sore. Today’s been an exhausting day.”

“I’m sure it has.” He pauses in front of his door, and I dither, unsure whether to go to the room I first slept in or his. All my clothes are in his room, but that doesn’t mean I need to take over his space. “Are you okay after what I told you in the shed?”

I scuff the tip of my boot against the floor. “I already sort of knew Slate would’ve killed me if Legend hadn’t shown up. None of that was news to me.”

“But you didn’t know someone had sent him?”

“No, I didn’t.”

A pause.

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” he swears to me passionately, cupping my face between his hands. “We’ll get the truth out of Slate. Then we’ll track down the wolf who sent him after you.”

“Maybe I’ll know who it is if I can remember. There has to be a connection between me ending up in the Common Realm and whoever sent Slate after me, right?”

“I’ve thought about that, too.” He skims his thumb underneath my eyes. “But Lake, I don’t want you doing anything dangerous to bring your memories back.”

“Why would it be dangerous?”

“I’m not saying it will be. But Ava might try to suggest some ways that aren’t necessarily safe.”

I rub my neck, my muscles groaning in protest. “I thought you said we could trust her.”

“We can, but witches are witches, and sometimes they think magic is the only answer, even if that magic is dangerous. So, we need to keep our guard up and not make any irrational decisions until we get all the information.”

“Got it.” I nod, glad for the distraction from my thoughts of Slate and who sent him after me. “How do I know when to distract her while we’re at her house, so you can look for her books? Because I’m pretty sure that flower thing in my dream also happened with some leaves while I was walking in the forest with Rune. It was like they were reaching for me.”

His brows bunch as he removes his hands from my face and unbuckles his waist holster. “That’s strange.”

“Not really. The same thing happened in my dream.”

“It’s not that.” The crease between his brows becomes more prominent. “It’s just that some of the guards stationed near the vines mentioned there was a growth reduction in the vines today.”

“That’s the opposite of what the flowers and leaves were doing. They looked like they were growing toward me. And I didn’t go near the vines, anyway.”

“I know.”

“So, what does that mean, then?” Because it seems like he thinks it means something.

“I have no idea.” But he looks worried.

Opening the door, he tosses his holster and knife onto his bedroom floor then nudges me inside. I enter, rubbing my shoulder, my arm, my leg. Every part of my body throbs, but not as much as my brain.

So many questions flood my mind. Why do plants and flowers suddenly seem to like me? Have I always been this way, but lost the ability when I went to the Common Realm? Probably not, or else Jules wouldn’t look so befuddled.

“We need to be at Ava’s by the time the moon is full.” Jules kicks his holster and weapons out of the way as he trudges farther into his room. “You can shower first, if you want.”

“Okay.” I make my way over to the pile of clothes Liberty left for me. “What does one wear to seduce a witch?”

“Probably something similar to what you were wearing at the club.” He opens a dresser drawer and starts rummaging through his clothes. “Nice, but not overly fancy. Maybe something that shows off those sexy legs of yours.”

I turn my back to him as my cheeks practically glow with heat.

After I select a short black dress, a plaid overshirt, some fishnet socks, and my platforms, I limp toward the bathroom.

“Lake,” Jules says, bumping the drawer shut. “Do you want me to … to alleviate some of the pain in your muscles?”

I pause, glancing at him. “You can do that?”

He gives a wavering nod. “Remember how I told you I could make shifting less painful for you? It’s pretty much the same process.”

I sink my teeth into my lip. “How exactly do you do it?”

He pats the bed as he sits down. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

For some dumb reason, my cheeks flush as I sink down beside him. Once I get situated, he scoots behind me so I’m seated between his stretched-out legs. Then he sets his hands on my shoulders.

“It might feel a little … strange at first.” His voice is a mixture of amusement and coyness. “Just try to relax, okay?”

I bob my head up and down and close my eyes, melting back against him. I expect his fingers to start working massage magic on me. Instead, he slowly trails his fingers down my arms.

My stomach kickflips as warmth sprinkles across my skin. By the time his fingers arrive at my wrists, the warmth has burst into throbbing pulses. Over and over the sensation pours across my flesh, burrowing farther into my muscles and erasing the pain. My head bobbles back against his chest as a soft whimpering sigh leaves my lips.

“That feels … nice.” Nice doesn’t seem like a powerful enough word for what his touch is doing to my body. “How can you … do that?”

“Magic,” he whispers huskily. “Most royalty wolves have a special gift. Mine’s healing. Mild healing, anyway. There’s a point, though, where the injuries are too severe and my magic can’t heal.”

I think about his mom and the faceless shadow wolf cubs I saw my first day in the kingdom. Clearly, their injuries are past the fixing point of Jules’ magic.

“I tried to heal my mom a couple of times,” he whispers, as if in tune with my thoughts. “It didn’t work, but I keep trying. Every so often, I visit the castle and do what I can for her. It’s never enough, though.”

“You speak so differently of your mom than your father,” I say. “Is she a good wolf?”

“She is. Unfortunately, my mom wasn’t trained to fight—her father was against it—so my father was able to scare her into submission shortly after they were married. She was always too afraid to intervene during his ruthless training sessions with me. But I don’t blame her for what my father did to me. If she were stronger, she would have fought him. I know she would.”

“I’m sorry you’ve had to go through all that.” I wind my arm above my head, over his shoulder, and trace my fingers along the nape of his neck. “It’s crazy to think that such a horrible man is king of your pack.”

“Our pack,” he corrects. “And that’s the stupid thing about the crowning tradition and letting a piece of fucking jewelry choose the king and queen. In my opinion, it should be a vote amongst the pack.”

“Maybe you can change the rule when you become king.”

“I’ve thought about doing so. Not everyone will agree with me, though.”

“Yeah, so? You can’t please everyone. And if you tried to, you’d be miserable.”

“You’re very wise.” He moves his hands down my thighs. “I think you would make a great queen.”

“Definitely not right now.” I squirm as his fingers tickle my kneecap. “I need to learn a lot more about werewolves, this kingdom, and the realm.”

“There’s plenty of time for you to learn. My parents are still young.”

“Do they …? Do they have to pass away before you become king and another wolf becomes queen?” When he doesn’t answer right away, I add, “I’m sorry. That was probably a really rude question.”

“No, not at all.” He shifts me so I’m sitting closer. “I was just thinking about how the answer is yes and about how my father probably has many years ahead of him to reign. Only one of them has to pass away for the new king and queen to take over. It’s sort of a package deal kind of job.”

“It doesn’t seem too awful, unless you get stuck with someone like your dad. Luckily, from what I’ve seen, you are far from the cruel wolf your father sounds like, so the next queen should be very lucky.”

“I’m not sure I agree with you.”

“Why?”

“Because, if for some reason the next queen isn’t you, they’re going to be severely disappointed when I show absolutely no interest in getting involved with them on a romantic level.” He quickly kisses my earlobe then moves his hands to my waist, tracing a path back and forth.

My eyes roll open to meet his, finding his lips a mere sliver of an inch away from mine. “That feels good.”

“Good.” His fingers are splayed above my shirt, right along my elevated scars. “I can fade them if you want—the scars.”

“Really?”

He nods. “If you’re okay with me touching you there?”

Am I?

I don’t know.

How much can I take?

I don’t know.

Can I handle him touching me in a place so ugly and broken?

As he stares into my eyes with nothing but compassion, I find myself hesitantly nodding. “Okay.”

He fiddles with the hem of my shirt. “If you start to panic, just say so and I’ll stop.” He waits for me to nod before he inches his fingers underneath my shirt and grazes the scars covering my abdomen.

When my muscles tense, he starts to withdraw his hand.

“No, it’s okay,” I sputter through an uneven breath. “I’m just not used to anyone touching me there, but you’re fine. I promise.”

He waits a beat then tracks his fingers back and forth along the raised skin. Back and forth. Back and …

Forth …

Warmth spirals through my stomach and my toes curl, my back arching. As a groan hums from my lips, I press my lips to his. I’m not even sure why I kiss him, other than I want to.

He kisses me back, our tongues moving in sync as he continues touching my skin, sending fireworks through my body. Somewhere through the hazy passion, I momentarily lose touch with reality. By the time I return to the now, Jules is staring down at me with his palm resting on my abdomen, his gaze blazing with heat.

“Better?” he asks.

I nod, barely able to breathe.

He tries for a casual smile, yet looks utterly riled up. So, when he kisses me again, the gentleness surprises me.

“You should probably go get in the shower,” he whispers against my lips. “Ava will have a fit if we’re late.”

My heart is a mess in my chest as I nod, hurriedly kiss his cheek, then bolt from his arms to lock myself in the bathroom.

When I peel my shirt off, my jaw nearly cracks against the floor. The once prominent scars are now nothing but ghosts of thin white lines, almost gone yet not quite.

He healed me. I never thought it would be possible. I thought I’d always have to bear the scars. It makes me wonder if perhaps they could be gone completely one day.