CHAPTER THREE
The afternoon sun sank lower behind the trees, staining the river in shades of copper and gold. The cloud was heavy with some gloomy weight that seemed to foretell something which even the flitting wind did not know. The river continued to flow in perpetual calmness. Clara sat on a flat stone at the water's edge, the cool current whispering against the banks. She ground dry herbs into powder with slow, mechanical motions, her gaze fixed on the ripples as they spun, twirled, and weaved. The scene seemed peaceful, but her mind wasn't.
She clenched her jaw. Why am I hesitating?
The image of her brother's face flashed in her mind, his laughter, the warmth in his eyes. He had been the secret crush of every maiden in her clan. She couldn't hold back her chuckle and silent pride each time she caught them from the corner of her eyes shyly and somewhat enviously staring at him as he and Clara walked hand in hand around the pathways and rivers of the village. He was also Clara's ever present guardian from the random males who dared to encroach on her personal space.
She mused on the day her brother humbled the promiscuous Suki for spying on her as she basked on the beach under the warm summer sun. Her brother had just left her side to go and grab some blueberries for them when Suki tiptoed behind a shade of willows, drooling at her bare body. Lost in lustful ecstasy, Suki didn't hear the steps behind him neither did he see the claws that tore through his slobbering face. But he certainly felt the stabbing pain that tore through him and the warm blood that gushed from his wound as he scampered through the bushes with his tail behind his leg. Suki bore that deep gash on his face for months and forever avoided Clara until he died from a curious ambush during a hunt within the year. Clara never forgot her brother's gallantry that day. The thought of it always filled her heart with pride.
And then, as it always did, the memory turned dark: Her chivalrous brother was gone, taken by a creature she had sworn to destroy. Ethan. The cursed Alpha.
Her hand slid inside her cloak and touched the small pouch hidden there. She caressed the cold hide around the bottle. Inside was enough poison to kill even a wolf of his bloodline. Just one pinch in his tea… and he would never wake again. No fights. No risks. Just silence.
Her pulse quickened, her heart raced. But it was not from the thought of killing him. That was just a matter of time. It was the other possibility that made her uneasy. Despite herself, Clara shuddered with trepidation. She quickly put her hands around herself, her eyes dimmed as they stared across the horizon. She sighed deeply.
The old healer's voice returned to her: "The curse can only be broken by mating with a virgin female wolf. The union will cleanse the spell."
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the words away. But they kept coming back, echoing through the chambers of her mind in clear and insistent decibels. It was ridiculous. Impossible. She hated him. She should hate him.
And yet…
Clara dragged a hand over her face, frustrated with herself. "Why does it feel like the more I hate him, the more I…." She stopped, unable to finish.
The truth crept in, quiet but sharp: she wasn't afraid of him. She was afraid of herself.
A sharp crack of branches broke her thoughts. Her head jerked toward the sound. Three silhouettes emerged from the tree line, their steps light but deliberate. The way they moved told her enough, they were he-wolves. Not from any pack she recognized.
"Well, what have we here?" the first one drawled, grinning.
"A healer," the second said, his eyes scanning her with malicious lust. "And all alone."
Clara rose, dagger in hand, forcing strength into her voice. "Stay back."
They didn't. They spread out, circling her. The leader stepped in closer, his eyes cold. "Or what?"
He lunged, knocking the dagger from her hand before she could strike. Pain jolted through her wrist. She kicked and swung at him, but two of them grabbed her arms and pinned her. The third ripped at her cloak.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. "Get off me!" she shouted, twisting, clawing at their hands.
The leader leaned in, his breath sour. "Relax. It'll be quick."
Before she could scream again, a roar tore through the clearing, deep, primal, and close.
A dark blur shot from the trees. Ethan.
He hit the first man so hard the sound of the impact echoed. The second attacker barely had time to react before Ethan's claws raked across his chest. His eyes glowed gold, his face set in a snarl.
"You dare touch her…?" His voice was low but carried like thunder.
The last man tried to flee, but Ethan caught him by the collar and hurled him toward the tree line. The man scrambled away without looking back.
Then it was quiet again, except for the rush of the river and Ethan's heavy breathing. That scene with her brother and Suki fleeted through her feverish mind.
Clara was on the ground, her hands shaking. Her cloak hung in tatters around her shoulders. Ethan dropped to one knee beside her, scanning her quickly.
"Did they hurt you?" His voice had softened, but it still trembled with leftover anger.
She shook her head, but her voice was unsteady. "No. I'm fine."
Ethan brushed a strand of hair from her face, his hand warm against her skin. "They won't come near you again. I promise."
For a moment, she just looked at him. She wanted to tell herself it was gratitude, nothing more. But the way he was looking at her, protective, almost desperate, unsettled her more than the attack had.
She swallowed hard and looked away, clutching what was left of her cloak. The hatred she'd been holding onto all this time didn't feel as solid as it used to.
The river kept flowing, carrying the echoes of what had just happened, and the heavier, unspoken truths neither of them were ready to face.