I gingerly shifted the bag of ice to my other hand so I could use the old brass key to let myself into the motel room. No special knock or anything. Conrad could already smell that it was me, but the door must have hidden the subtler parts of my scent until it was open; he thought everything was okay until I was in the room.

He was laying on his bed in his T-shirt and jeans. That’s how you knew he was relaxing. If he was outside or around other people, he always wore a solid-colored flannel shirt over his T-shirt, and he’d probably do it even in the middle of a hundred-degree desert. He was reading a magazine that he’d found in the motel somewhere. It was anyone’s guess what decade it was from.

“Careful as you come in,” Conrad said. “Kappa’s asleep. He tried to wait up for you, but it was a long day for him, and he missed a nap—”

Then I was all the way in the door. As I shut it, I heard Conrad sit up behind me.

“Emerra, what happened?”

I tried to grimace, but my face was too stiff. I turned and put a finger to my lips before dropping the motel key on my bed.

“Let’s not wake up Kappa,” I whispered. “I love the guy, but I don’t want him jumping on me right now.”

Conrad rolled off the bed and walked over to me at the speed of concern. It isn’t quite as fast as the speed of sound, but it’s a darn sight faster than normal. When he was close to me, he raised his hand to touch my face but changed his mind before he did.

For some unfathomable and (no doubt) stupid reason, I blushed. As I dropped my gaze so I wouldn’t have to look at him, I glimpsed an expression I’d never seen on his face before. It took me a moment to place it.

Right. Shock. That’s what a wolf in shock would look like.

My black eye teared up. We’ll blame it on the injury. I didn’t bother brushing away the tear.

I stared at the orange-brown carpet and held out the bag of ice. “Could you find a way to keep this from dripping everywhere?”

Conrad took the ice and walked over to the pile of grocery bags that were left from when Jay had dropped off our food. He triple bagged it, thus solving the problem.

I felt pathetically grateful.

Kappa was asleep on my bed, but he was on the corner nearest the door, not in his nest. He really had been waiting for me. I felt even more pathetically grateful. When both my eyes teared up, all I felt was pathetic.

Conrad put the ice down on the small desk and came back to me. “What happened?” This time it sounded more like a demand than a question.

I decided to go for a brash and nonchalant air. I know it wasn’t exactly “taking the bull by the horns,” but sometimes the best way to deal with a bull is by pretending it isn’t as big and scary as it is. It probably confuses the bull.

“Do you know anything about first aid?” I asked.

“Not much,” Conrad said.

“Really?” I tried to force a smile. One edge of my mouth might have moved in an upward direction. “Map-reader extraordinaire, wilderness expert—but you don’t know first aid?” I headed toward the bathroom with my bag of supplies. “I thought those skills kind of—I dunno—went with each other.”

Conrad followed after me. “Lycanthropes don’t need it.”

Ah. Yes. They had super-healing. The only injury I’d seen that had taken Conrad more than a day to heal from was when he’d been stabbed by a dagger coated in blessed silver.

“They can be killed,” Darius had told me, “but if you’re going to try to kill a lycanthrope, then you better do it right the first time.”

“Lucky pup,” I muttered.

I left the door to the bathroom open. Putting off Conrad’s question was rude enough; I didn’t want him to think that I was shutting him out. I went over to the mirror above the sink and got a good look at my face.

Oh. My. God.

I looked like the most horrifying anti-domestic-abuse advertisement in the world.

My eyes teared up again, but I was having none of their nonsense. I had stuff to do! As my old friend, Ms. Elstein, always said, “Work first, feelings never.”

She said, “Work first, feelings later.”

Right. The “feelings never” had been my contribution.

Conrad followed me into the room. I glanced up and saw him in the mirror as I turned on the hot water.

I put the bag of first-aid supplies on the back of the toilet and opened it wide so I wouldn’t have to struggle to grab anything. “I don’t know how far your sense of modesty reaches, but I’m going to take off my shirt, so if seeing a skinny, beat-up chick in a bra bothers you, you might want to leave.”

Conrad frowned, crossed his arms, and leaned on the wall beside him.

I had a feeling he was being stubborn because I hadn’t answered his question, but if he thought I was bluffing, that was his problem. I didn’t have his sense of modesty. With a mental shrug, I stripped off my shirt and started washing my hands up to my elbows. The cheap soap made the scrapes on my arms sting.

When I spoke, I kept my tone casual: “I got in a fight.”

Conrad raised his voice. “You picked a fight?”

“So much for that super hearing of yours. I didn’t say I picked a fight. I said I got in a fight.”

“With what? A truck?”

I grabbed one of the stiff white hand towels, dried my arms, and moved over to the full-length mirror. Someone had thoughtfully positioned it on the wall across from the tub so you could scare yourself silly every time you pulled back the shower curtain. Along both sides of my ribs were a bunch of dark red patches. They looked like old scrapes, but none of the skin was broken. Around each one was a faint black-and-blue halo.

Looking at myself, I had to admit that Conrad’s question was a fair one. It looked like I’d been run over.

I sighed through my nose. Not much I can do about that.

But I could at least take some painkillers. I went over to the bag, pulled out the Advil, and popped twice the recommended dose. I could practically hear every doctor in the world letting out a horrified gasp.

Let them gasp. If they knew I was going to be treating my own cauliflower ear, they’d be rolling up their medical degrees to beat me with them.

“There were three guys,” I said. “They were bigger than me.”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

I took out the rubbing alcohol and a box of gauze pads. After pulling out a handful of gauze, I ripped all their packages open at once and tossed the tops toward the small garbage bin beside me. Two made it in.

Conrad rubbed his face, neck, and head. He was pressing hard enough to squish his ear flat when his paw ran over it. “You went three-on-one with a bunch of men.”

It was the exasperation in his voice that got to me. Or maybe the way he dug his claws into the fur on his head while staring at the floor—like he was too exhausted to look at me.

My stomach twisted, and my cheeks flushed.

Keep it playful.

I poured a mega-sized barrel of light and humor into my comment: “Hey! I got in some good shots!—you know, before they took me down. Even Gladwyn was impressed.”

I doused the gauze pads in alcohol.

“Mera!” Conrad snapped. “It looks like they beat you half dead!”

I forced another smile. It felt lumpy and made my face ache, but I got both sides of my mouth to move that time. “If you’re talking about me, does that make it fifty percent dead or a hundred-and-fifty percent dead?”

“Stop it.”

I froze in the act of bringing a dripping pad up to my arm. Conrad’s voice had been quiet, but there was something dark in it that made my shoulders tighten. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was glaring at me, and his ears were flat.

“Why do you do that?” he said. “You think I can’t smell how you feel? But you come in here, act like it’s no big deal, crack a few jokes, and brag about how well you did!”

I whirled to face him. “I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me!”

The moment the words were out of my mouth, I realized how dumb they sounded. He’d probably been telling me to drop the act, but my first thought was to defend my bragging. I chose to become absorbed in the all-important task of disinfecting my scrapes. The alcohol already burned, but I pressed the pad against my arm extra hard to punish myself for being an idiot.

And because an idiotic statement deserves an equally idiotic explanation, I muttered, “You taught me how to fight.”

That turned out to be the wrong thing to say.

Conrad stepped toward me. In the small bathroom, that meant we were only a foot apart. “You’re a twig, Emerra! A god damn twig! I didn’t teach you to fight because I wanted you to fight! I taught you to fight because it was fun, and so you could defend yourself if you had to!”

My flaring temper made every last injury I had throb, but I managed to keep my voice below wake-up-Kappa levels. “That’s what I was doing! You think I wanted this? You think I looked at three men—all of them a minimum of eighty pounds heavier than I was—and thought, ‘you know, I bet I could take these guys?’ I know I’m stupid, but please, for the love of god, give me a speck of credit!”

“If you knew you couldn’t win, why didn’t you avoid it?”

“I tried to!”

Too loud. I grit my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to keep everything contained, but when I closed my eyes, visions of the three men loomed over me with ludicrous exaggeration—screaming, ragged breathing, narrowed eyes made out of petrified pits of suspicion. That had to be an exaggeration. Right?

A shiver ran through my body. After it passed, I couldn’t stop trembling.

“Conrad,” I whispered, not daring to open my eyes, barely daring to open my mouth the crack it took for the words to get out, “I don’t think there was anything I could do to stop it.”

Conrad wrapped me up in his arms and pulled me into a hug.

It felt so good, I could’ve melted into a puddle of goo and pain. All the tears I’d been holding back came out in a blubbery flood—and, believe me, it did not make my black eye feel better. I didn’t care. I was beyond caring about most things. I let myself moan and groan like a two-year-old. No words. Only noises. Maybe that’s what scholars meant by a proto-language.

And Conrad held me the whole time while resting his muzzle on my head. His neck fur felt like the softest, warmest blanket in the world.

I hated to do it, but after a minute I forced myself to pull away. Conrad stepped back to look at me.

“I have to…” I waved my hand around in a meaningless gesture. It was hard to find words again after using proto-language. “You know. My face.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

That voice of his. When he made it all soft and sad like that, it was the tonal equivalent of his stupid, awful, adorable puppy-dog eyes. Even if I’d wanted to be alone, I couldn’t tell him no when he asked me like that. Besides, I didn’t want to be alone.

“Can you wash your hands?” I asked.

“You’re worried about germs?”

“We don’t know how well my immune system works.”

His fluffy eyebrows jumped, but if he had an opinion, he kept it to himself. He nudged me to the side so he could reach the sink. “It takes me longer, but I’ll make sure they’re clean.”

My wolf-boy absolutely scrubbed that soap into his fur.

A half-hour later, we were out on the too-small couch. I was in my pajamas because all I wanted was comfort, and there are few things in the universe as comfortable as an old T-shirt that’s eight sizes too big. Conrad was patching up the scratches along my scalp that I couldn’t see. His claws and thick finger pads made it hard to work with the small bandages, but we managed.

“How do you even do up those buttons on your flannel shirts?” I asked as I removed the slick white backing from a band-aid and passed it to him.

Without saying it, we’d both understood that the topic of why I looked like a train wreck had been tabled. The quiet, easy conversation we’d had instead had done more to make me feel better than the painkillers.

“That’s why I try to find them with snaps,” Conrad said. He carefully pressed the bandage in place. “And why I don’t always button them up. They’re annoying.”

I felt the fur around his finger pads brush my scalp as he checked for anything I might have missed.

“That’s all of them,” he said.

I turned to sit on the couch properly, then leaned back with a sigh and held out my hand. “Ice packs?”

Conrad handed them to me one at a time. One for the eye. One for the ear. While standing in the pharmacy aisle of the grocery store, I had scanned through a quick article on Conrad’s phone. It had recommended icing the ear before trying to drain it. I was going to get the thing as cold and numb as I could because that sucker was liable to hurt.

I held the ice packs in place and scooted down to let my head rest on the back of the couch. Conrad shifted so that he’d be facing forward while sitting beside me.

“Are you ready to tell me about what happened now?” he asked.

I wasn’t. Not really. But it wasn’t like I’d feel any better about it if I waited. And Conrad had been more than patient with me.

I adjusted my grip on the ice pack over my eye and gave him the whole story, starting from the moment I’d heard the lurker’s sound of distress. At first Conrad looked concerned, but when I told him what happened with the three men, his expression changed. His ears crept down and spread out to the sides. His eyes narrowed.

I stopped the story. “Don’t be mad.”

Conrad stared at me for a second, then moved his hand away from where it had been resting on his jaw. “I’m not mad at you.”

“I know. But don’t be mad.”

Conrad’s lip lifted over his teeth in a subtle sneer. It was a wolf expression that was meant to show frustration, but it also happened to show exactly how long and menacing his fangs were.

“Mera, they attacked you without provocation—”

“I lied to them.”

“That doesn’t mean they get to kick your ribs in while you’re lying on the ground!”

Urgency and indecision warred in my head, making my heart pound and my fingers twitch. Oh geez, oh geez—what was I supposed to do?

I threw myself at Conrad’s chest and buried my face in his shirt.

Almost five months ago, the poor guy had made it his job to comfort me before he had any idea how often he’d have to do it. I felt bad for him sometimes—I really did!—but the fear in my chest had become unbearable, and that meant that I needed comfort now. If that also happened to mean that Conrad couldn’t leave to murder three men who may or may not have deserved it, then so be it!

Conrad let out a startled omph when I dove at him, but then he relaxed and put his arm over me.

“You don’t get to be mad at all!” I said into his shirt. I wasn’t backing off. Not for one second. “I need you here. You have to help me watch Kappa and beat up alligators. That’s your job!”

I felt more than heard Conrad’s chuckle.

He put his hand on my head. “What if I promise to be back before sunrise?”

“No!”

Apparently, desperation and exhaustion meant that I reverted to being a five-year-old. I’d probably be ashamed tomorrow, but if childishness worked, then I was ready to glop it on like a fistful of finger paint.

“All I’ve wanted to do, all day, is watch anime,” I said, “and you’re my anime buddy!”

“You mean your pillow?” Conrad said.

“That too! You have to stay here.”

Conrad sighed. I rose and fell with the slow heave of his chest. “It’s okay. I know you’re scared. I promise I’ll stay here.”

“And watch anime,” I demanded.

“And watch anime.” He squeezed me with the arm he had around me. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to help you, Mera.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know.” He squeezed harder. “I still hate it.”

We settled back on the couch with Conrad’s phone to watch Wagnaria!!, one of my all-time favorite comedies. I was curled up beside him, laying half on his chest, while he had his arm over me. It was closer than we normally sat while watching anime, but he didn’t object, and my sense of boundaries had been hurled out the window with a fifty-foot sling shot. That wolfman wasn’t going anywhere without me knowing about it.

I kept my eyes on the small figures and bright colors playing across the screen, but my mind was miles away.

Conrad was right. I was scared. Anyone would feel vulnerable after the day I’d had, but what had scared me the worst—what had locked up my chest cavity with that frigid, tight panic—was the horrible rage I'd seen building up behind Conrad's eyes as I’d told him what happened. There’d been a madness there that made me think of blood and violence. I'd never, ever seen Conrad that angry. I wouldn't have thought it was possible.

It had reminded me of Jessie.