“Giles, let me out,” she whimpered and he could hear the tears in her words.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook his head. She’d warned him that no matter what, he needed to keep her inside. “Try to get some rest, Lilith.”
“Giles, I’m okay. Seriously. I’m okay. Let me out.”
Scooting back, he plopped his head back against the door with a thud and shook it. She sounded so normal and it would be a relief to have her out so that he could catch a few hours of desperate sleep.
“Please don’t do this.” His voice cracked with exhaustion.
“This isn’t a trick. It’s me. Let me out. I just want to see you.” She tapped at the door so softly.
And it was as though he felt each gentle tap flutter against his soul. His fingers twitched, itching to unlock the door. He desperately wanted to believe her, but her look had been adamant, and her touch just before she’d disappeared inside—it’d felt like truth.
It’d felt like more, too. Though he didn’t know what to call it.
“Giles, please. Please.”
The last please trembled with a tear and he clenched his jaw. She beckoned as a siren would, beguiling, alluring, promising things she would not keep. The moon was still heavy in the sky, and maybe she was okay, but he couldn’t take that chance, not after what he’d already witnessed tonight.
Standing wearily to his feet, he dropped his head. “I’m sorry, Lilith,” he said before walking off to safeguard the flame.
A howl echoed behind him.
The sky was a muted shade of lavender as the sun finally broke through the clouds. Giles killed the magic of the fire and rested against the side of the shack, watching the sunrise.
She’d not lied when she’d told him he’d go through hell. Giles never wanted to go through that again. Sun finally up, he watched as a lazy yellow butterfly waltzed drunkenly past. Almost as though it were a promise of better things to come, that the nightmares were finally over.
“Giles?”
This time when she said it he knew she was really okay. It took everything he possessed to get up and unlock the door for her.
Lilith stepped out of the shack wearing the same illusion she’d worn when she’d gone in. Her dark brown skin gleamed almost prettily, as though she’d not been a wolf half the night and tearing everything up in sight, and he almost envied her. Impossible as it was, she looked rested and even lovelier than she had the day before.
She squinted into the morning light with a hand shading her eyes. When she turned to look at him, he gave her a soft smile.
“You are well.”
She nodded softly and wrapped her arms gently around his waist, resting her cheek on his chest.
“Thank you.”
His movements were stiff as he patted her back gently. “It was nothing. Should we search for food?”
“Giles.” She leaned back, her pretty lioness gaze seeming to peer right through him. There was a tenderness to her touch that he could not recall seeing before.
“What?” he asked, using his good hand to scrub at his bristled jaw.
Taking his hand, she guided him toward the shack. “You look terrible. You need to rest.”
He shook his head. “You were up as long as I was. I’m fine. We need to journey on.”
“No.” She lifted her brow and gently tugged him into the shack. “You need to sleep. You’re no good to yourself without it. Take the bed.” She pointed.
He stared into the darkness with a stunned look. Where were the slash marks? With the way she’d thrown herself into the walls, he would have figured there’d be dust and debris everywhere, holes beginning to form in the foundation. But those weren’t the first questions off his tongue.
“How is there a bed in here?”
She glanced over at the brass headboard of the modest-sized bed pushed up against the wall.
“I heard you clawing all through the night. Shouldn’t everything be shredded, torn apart? A bed?” he muttered in shock.
She chuckled. “You did not believe me when I told you this cabin was spelled?” she asked as she guided him to the mattress and forced him to sit.
“You were going to rip the door off its hinges last night—I struggled to keep it intact.” He shook his head, flummoxed by not only the sight of the bed, but the spotless floors that bore not a single scratch on its wooden face. The painted walls that looked smooth and well tended.
Planting a hand on his shoulder, she tried to force him to lie down.
“No, I’m fine.” He shrugged off her hand. Though the bed was tempting, there was no time for rest. “Really, I—”
“Giles,” she said in a firm tone, planting her hands on her hips. “You need to rest, but since you’re being so pigheaded about it, then a compromise.”
“What?”
She lifted a brow. “I hunt, and you just relax. Just for a little while. Deal?”