Eden Riverwallow's Arc

Chapter 5 of 18

The wolf lay in the grass past the moss line all night. Eden watched from the window until her feet went numb. Kane had come as close as he would come. Between him and her door, something else was moving in the trees. Willow drifted to the glass. "He's out there too." "Maleficit." "Pacing. He's been pacing since the wolf lay down." Eden pressed her forehead to the cold pane. She could not see him, but she could see what he did to the woods. Branches jerked where nothing had touched them. A crow burst up and did not come back down. The vampire was walking a circle around her yard, and the wolf on her grass was the reason. "If I go out there," Eden said, "they'll tear each other apart." "Then don't go out there." "He won't stay forever, Willow. Kane's already bleeding from the shoulder. I saw it when he shifted his weight." The cat jumped onto the sill. Lucien stared past her at the wolf, tail flicking once, slow. His eyes caught the porch light and threw it back blue. Eden went to the drawer and took out the salt. She poured a fresh line across the inside of the threshold. Then she opened the door. The wolf's head came up. Yellow eyes locked on hers. He did not stand. "Kane," she said. She kept her voice low and even. "Come inside." He did not move. She saw his ribs pull with a breath. She saw the dark patch on his shoulder where the fur was matted flat. "The moss won't stop you if I'm asking." She held the doorframe. "I'm asking." Something cracked in the trees. A branch, thick, snapped clean. Willow's head turned sharp toward the sound. "He heard you," Willow said. "Eden, he heard you." The wolf stood. Pale, huge, wrong at the shoulders, claws pressed into her grass. He crossed the moss line in three steps and came up the porch. He was bigger than the doorway. He had to lower his head to fit under it. She stepped back and he came through, and the salt broke under one heavy paw and scattered across the boards. She shut the door. She threw the bolt. She poured salt over the broken line without looking away from him. He sat down in her front room. The shape of him did not change. He watched the door with her. Outside, something struck the porch rail hard enough to split it. Then nothing. Then, further off, the sound of a man walking away through dry leaves, unhurried, letting her hear every step. Eden slid down against the door until she was sitting on the floor beside the wolf. Her hand found the fur at his neck. It was warm. He did not pull away. "He knows now," she said. The wolf did not answer. He didn't have to.