26. Farrel's Return

“He’s coming, Emmalyn. I can protect you or I can let you face him. It’s your right to choose.”

She gasped softly when she felt Caleb tense up. She could tell it was a reaction to something other than herself. Of course, he would protect her, just as he promised he would. But this wasn’t his fight, it was hers. It wasn’t even a fight; she would not defend herself against whatever Farrel had to say. He would be more than upset with her, but she would weather it.

“I will face him, Caleb.” She breathed as she kissed his lips. “I can’t always hide behind you. I have to be strong and stand on my own feet or I will never respect myself, much less expect others to respect me.”

She looked around the room before looking back at him. “Perhaps it would be best if I had something to wear when he got here…”

“You don’t know what he means to do to you, Emmalyn,” Caleb said with a heavy sigh.

No, she didn’t really know. She didn’t understand how Farrel thought most of the time. But she knew one thing: he wouldn’t hurt her, well, he wouldn’t kill her.

Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he lifted her from his lap, setting her down on the bed, and slid away from her. She just sat there, looking at Caleb as he moved her aside. He climbed down, padding naked towards the animal skin blocking the door into the rest of the hut. Emmalyn got out of bed and walked towards him when she stopped. He stopped there, shifting from foot to foot for a moment, then shook his head.

“Just don’t encourage his anger. Prepare yourself for it as best you can, love. Yelling at you is not what he has in mind.”

Talking and yelling wasn’t what he had in mind? What did he have in mind then? She wanted to ask Caleb, but she had a feeling that it was best she did not know until it happened. So, there she stood, naked and waiting for a fate she was unsure of. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed on it.

Emmalyn worked herself up to a frenzy of nerves as she waited. She walked back over to the bed and sat down. She didn’t know how they punished their mates here. Maybe she would be an outcast, thrown aside. Would Caleb let that happen? She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

Caleb returned to the side of the bed once she sat. His hand reached out and lovingly stroked her hair. There was an attempt to give her a reassuring smile, but the motion didn’t reach his eye. Instead, he leaned down and gently kissed her lips before he turned and exited the hut.

He had been trekking for three days. Running wildly, killing to feed, and kept moving. He didn’t sleep and his body was beyond exhausted. There was no way for him to rest, though. Not until he cleared things up with Emmalyn. Made the healer see her actions were unnecessarily dangerous to both of them. Had she died, then neither he nor Caleb could continue without her. She knew so little about their kind, yet she reacted to them both with unflinching hunger. She matched them, yet did not know what she had gotten herself into when she became their mate.

As he neared the outskirts of the village where many of the hunter’s huts lay, and his own included, he finally slid out of his wolf form and strode the last few feet to his home. The wild, insane fury rolling in him no doubt slapped Emmalyn like a fist.

She felt him as soon as he changed. The rage that boiled off of him almost choked her, causing her to lose her breath. She put a hand over her heart, trying to calm the wild beating that had sprung in her chest. Her hands were shaking, though she tried to steady them. Caleb had told her not to anger Farrel anymore, but she wasn’t sure if there was anything she could do that wouldn’t anger him. She bit painfully into her lip, drawing blood. She made a soft yelp in surprise, her teeth releasing their hold on that delicate flesh as she licked over the wound with her tongue.

Pushing aside the animal skin flap into the bedroom, his wild green eyes flickered to her face, briefly drifting over her nude form and back up. She was whole again and smelled of sex. He didn’t care. There were dark circles under his eyes and his lids were dark, as well as if the weight of constantly being awake had bruised them. His face was pale; haggard even. As he rounded the short wall to the bed, the dull gleam of a dagger glittered from his right hand.

Then she saw him. She felt cold all over. It felt as though she had been shoved back out in the snow, as naked as she was standing there. Her entire body paled as his eyes moved over her. She was afraid, but not at the same time. Emmalyn couldn’t explain it and couldn’t understand it all right then. She saw the glint from the dagger and her eyes went wide. Surely he wouldn’t think of hurting her. What would that prove? She wasn’t sure, but she knew she had never seen or felt this much anger in her entire life.

“Tell me why you healed me,” he demanded in a rough and cold voice.

“I…I’m sorry.” She sat softly, her voice hardly over a shaky whisper. It surprised her she could speak at all.

“I didn’t mean to. I only meant to show you I was there for you. It’s a human way, a way to show compassion and to console someone. I hadn’t seen you since…” she choked up, not wanting to say it.

A part of her wanted to put her chin up and tell him she would have done it anyway, had she thought about healing him, but she thought better of it. She knew he would just become angrier, and she didn’t want that. She wanted the Farrel she felt safe around back, not the man that was standing in front of her so angry. The emotions from him were so strong, so primal, they were overwhelming to her.

The dagger flipped around in his hand so quickly it was almost impossible to see it move. He pointed her blade at her in the space between them. His lips curled back, revealing his clenched teeth as he spoke through them.

“You’ll sit there and not move until I allow it. Sit and watch. You’re no longer with humans, woman. I’ll not tolerate you risking your life like that again,” he growled, forcing his words out.

Without waiting for her response, the blade turned once more. Emmalyn’s eyes were flicking back and forth between him and the dagger. He lifted his hand, bringing the razor-sharp tip to the side of his neck and, without hesitation, sliced cleanly through. Blood spilled down over his bare torso, dripping on the floor seconds before his body fell. He had cut so deeply not only were his arteries severed but his windpipe as well.

Farrel lay still, bleeding a pool around himself yet the exposed muscles were rapidly knitting themselves back together. Tendons, veins, and finally his skin sealed the deadly wound. It took a mere three minutes. Easily done since it had been a clean cut with no venom or poisons slowing the process. He drew in air again, opening his eyes slowly.

The scream that wanted to erupt from her throat died as her own hands went to her throat as he shared his pain with her. She choked and whimpered, the color rapidly draining from her face as she watched him fall to the ground, the mortal wound gaping open. She wanted to rush to him, but his words held her fast.

Just as quickly, the pain was gone, replaced with vast, crushing despair as he lay motionless. She couldn’t breathe before and now she felt as though her heart was breaking deep inside. Her chest couldn’t move as tears welled up and spilled from her eyes. Why? Why had he done this? This was his punishment to her for her instincts.

Then it lifted, and the pain was back, although it was lessened. She could see the wound healing itself. She watched in amazement and anger. He did this to punish her, to teach her a lesson. She was a healer that wasn’t allowed to heal the ones she cared most for. What good was she then? Some trinket to be protected? His cruelty hurt her. He wanted her to understand him, yet he refused to understand how she was.