Chapter 6: Tell Me When She Asks

The pantry window was small, and it opened from outside.

I heard the latch lift a little after noon.

Ewan's face appeared in the gap, scratched along one cheek and furious.

"Twenty minutes," he said. "I told you twenty."

"You said you couldn't come inside."

"I said I'd come in."

He got me through the window, and we ran along the back of the kitchen garden, and nobody shouted.

The old hay barn stood at the edge of the Hartwell orchard, a quarter mile from the lodge.

Ewan shut the door behind us and slid the bar down, and the dust hung in a line of light.

"Moonrise is in six hours," he said. "He'll fight you as a wolf, and he'll be good at it."

"I know."

"Do you have any idea how to call yours?"

"I've never felt her," I said. "Except last night."

"Tell me about last night."

I thought about the lawn and the chain and Rafe's calm voice saying until her heart stops.

"I was angry," I said. "I've never been that angry in my life."

"Good. Anything else?"

"I was kneeling in the gravel and the silver was in my skin."

"Pain," Ewan said. "Anger. Pain. Those are all things done to you." He rubbed the scar through his eyebrow. "I want to try something else."

"What?"

"One rule first." He didn't come closer. "I won't touch you unless your wolf asks for it. Not you. Her. Is that fair?"

"How would I know what she's asking?"

"You'll know."

He held out his hand, palm up.

I put my wrist in it.

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