Page 7 of Shared With The Pack

The meal is simple but delicious. A bowl of mildly spicy soup with chunks of meat and beans; hot bread slathered thick with butter. I've never been so thankful for food before. Griff and Ridge sit with me, each with their own bowl, though Heath remains shifted and sits by my feet.

Griff clears his throat. "Both flutes got damaged. Ain't safe to light the fireplaces."

Ridge pauses with his spoon halfway to his mouth. "Let's drag the mattress out here for tonight and we'll keep the stove burning to keep it warm."

"Hm, that'll do."

Heath stares up at me, so expectant and hopeful, that I can't help but sneak him a piece of meat. His rough tongue laps my palm, eagerly licking my fingers clean. Griff glares at the exchange. I drop my gaze and take another spoonful, putting it into my mouth.

I can't place the meat. It doesn't taste like chicken or beef. Seeing how the pack lives, I assume it must be some sort of game. Maybe rabbit. Maybe deer.

"Sorry, but we only got the one bed," Ridge says. "I hope you won't mind sharing. Packs don't really have much of a concept of personal space."

"That's fine," I reassure Ridge with a quick smile, using my spoon to stir soup mindlessly. I'm still hungry, but I don't know if I can eat much more. My eyelids have grown heavy. "I'm so grateful for all your help. I don't know how I'll ever repay you, but I'll try my best. I know you don't want me around, so I'll try not to overstay my welcome."

"What in the hell are you doing out in this neck of the woods? You running away from that school?"

School...? He can't mean -- no way. It can't be.

There's no way I flew that far. I shake my head.

"I was only passing through, but I lost control of my broom and that's when I hit your cabin. It broke, I think, and it's lost somewhere out there."

Griff's quiet gaze fixes on me. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-one." I'm not telling a lie, technically. It has to be past midnight now. The witching hour and the beginning of Samhain. And my birthday too. I don't tell them that. Just like I don't tell them about my family or my almost wedding. I keep all those secrets lodged in my throat.

Ridge points his empty spoon at me from across the table.

"We have a truck locked up in a shed on the edge of our territory. We keep it for supply runs. Though it'll be almost a full day's hike there with only two legs. I don't think Wren will be ready for a journey like that so soon."

"We'll see."

Griff lifts his bowl to his mouth and slurps down the rest of his broth. When he's done, he licks his lips as he looks at me. A shiver that has nothing to do with the chilly weather races down my spine. He stands up and shovels the leftover pieces of meat and beans from his bowl into mine. Griff taps the rim, giving me a pointed glare.

"Eat it all."

It's not a suggestion. That's an order.

"I'll get the mattress moved. Ridge, get out the extra blankets."

While they get the bed set up, I don't stop eating until my bowl is empty and my stomach is full. I feel much better. With a new boost of energy, I act on my promise. I gather up all the dishes. Heath helps too by licking every bowl clean, and when he's done, I stack them in the sink.

"Wren, come to bed." Ridge fluffs up a pillow. "We'll do a big clean-up tomorrow when there's daylight."

Even the hemlines of the sweatpants drag along the ground when I walk. While Heath races ahead, diving snout first onto the mattress, I try not to trip over my own feet. Heath rolls around, head tossing and all four paws in the air as I kneel to join him. While I'm getting comfortable, gently trying to ease Heath's massive form off before he crushes me beneath his furry weight, Ridge blows out all the candles except for one.

That sole candle keeps a lonely vigil in the window by the front door.

So does Griff.

He pulls a wooden chair to the wall and props the shotgun next to him; the barrel pointed toward the ceiling. Looks like he's not joining the cuddle pile on the bed. "I'll take the first watch," Griff says.

"You really think that's necessary?" Ridge asks.

"Better safe than sorry. Storm ain't over yet. Never know what else it might blow this way."

I turn to my side, back facing him. Griff makes me feel nervous, but I'm not scared of him. He's saved me once already and taken care of me in his own way. If anything happens in the dead of night, I'm sure he'd protect me. But I don't want to think about danger or threats anymore.