Chapter 5: The Guesthouse

The Ridge guest cabin stood at the back of the pack grounds, behind the woodshed.

I walked there at midnight in my boots, with his coat over my arm.

Nobody saw me.

Everyone in the main house was awake and arguing behind closed doors, and I had slipped out the kitchen way.

A light was on in the cabin window.

I knocked once.

Crispin opened the door before my hand dropped.

He had pulled on a grey sweater.

He looked at the coat, and then at my face.

"You came," he said.

"I brought this back."

"Keep it."

"I don't want it."

That was a lie, and I think he heard it.

"Come in," he said. "Or don't. I'll talk through the door."

I stepped inside.

The cabin was one room, with a stove, a narrow bed and a table.

He had set out two mugs on the table.

I didn't sit.

"I'm going to ask you one question," I said. "I want one true answer."

"All right."

"On the night of my wedding, four years ago, did you bite me?"

He didn't say anything for a while.

The stove ticked.

Then he put both hands on the hem of his sweater and pulled it over his head.

I stared.

I told myself I was only looking at the scar.

On the left shoulder, in the same place as mine, was a ring of small pale marks.

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