I removed my jacket and hung it carefully on a tree branch. Then I paused, wondering about the rest of my clothes. I had a bra and underpants on, but even though I had worn a bikini plenty of times in public, I felt shy about Bastien seeing so much of me. Instead I rummaged in my satchel for one of the loose, oversized shirts Brucella had provided. All the garments she’d given me were loose and baggy—more fit for a man than a woman—but I guessed that had been on purpose. I ducked behind a tree and pulled on a shirt that reached just beneath my thighs while removing my pants. Now it felt like I was wearing a dress.
Emerging from the tree, I waded into the water. Goosebumps ran along my skin, and my insides clenched up. Gritting my teeth, I submerged myself to my neck. I let out an involuntary gasp before kicking my legs hard and swimming frantically, hoping to warm up. With a few broad strokes of his arms, Bastien reached me. A faint smile was on his lips. Apparently he was amused by how rapidly I’d been swimming.
“I don’t plan on staying in here long,” I muttered.
Bastien’s eyes flickered to my wet shirt. A wet, white shirt. I might as well have been wearing no shirt. At least I’d had the sense to keep my bra on.
“You’re shivering,” he commented, reaching out and touching my cheek.
So I was. I hadn’t noticed. I was about to turn around and head back to the bank immediately, afraid that I might catch pneumonia or something, when he took hold of my hands and drew me to him. His hands slid around my waist and flattened against my back as he pulled me against his bare chest. His arms wound around me. He held me so flush against him, I could feel every contour of the front of his body, as he could mine. My cheeks must have been a bright tomato red by now.
“Do you feel warmer now?” Bastien asked.
I felt “warmer now” in more ways than I cared to admit. “Yes,” I managed.
We were so close, I couldn’t look at his face without our noses touching. My cheek rested against his rough one, and the feel of his stubble against my skin sent tingles down my spine, as it had done back in his armory.
I didn’t doubt for a moment that his gesture was innocent. He had seen that I was cold, and this was his solution to warming me. I wondered if he even realized the effect his touch had on me.
His head lowered to the base of my neck. My breath hitched as, suddenly, his lips were grazing my skin. I couldn’t help but think for a moment that I was going to have to make a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn in my assumption about his intentions… but he did not plant a kiss against my neck. Of course not, Victoria! Why would you think he’d do that? He just breathed in deeply. He was taking in my scent… Just something that wolves do.
When he raised his head again, I leaned my own backward so that our faces would not be quite so close together as I looked at him. He was frowning.
“I like you, Victoria,” he said softly.
I smiled. It would have been a lie to say that I didn’t like him, too. He had grown on me quite unexpectedly in the short time we’d spent together.
“I hope we can be friends even after… all this,” I replied.
Bastien said nothing, though he continued to gaze at me. He was studying me like I was a curious specimen of some kind. His eyes trailed from my forehead down to my nose before settling, and lingering, on my lips. I found myself biting my lower one, feeling self-conscious beneath his attention. I didn’t think a boy had ever looked at me this closely before. But there was something about the warmth in his eyes in this moment—if warmth was even possible for such steely gray irises—that rendered me unable to pry myself away from his gaze, even as I wondered what he found so interesting about me.
A splash came from behind us, breaking the spell. Bastien’s eyes shot toward the noise, and as I turned, I caught sight of a man swimming near the center of the lake. Then he became still, allowing me to make him out better.
He had only one eye, but it was fixed right on us.
Dane.
Apparently coming to his senses, Bastien immediately distanced himself from me before saying in a disconcerted whisper, “We should go.”
Victoria
On the way to the bank, Bastien dipped down and emerged holding a familiar plant. A slimy, bulbous weed. But unlike the whitish river weed, this had a greenish tinge. “Lake weed,” Bastien explained.
We plucked off some of the mucousy bubbles and ate them in a hurry. Lake weed was no more unpleasant in taste than the river weed—quite bland, really—but the snotty substance slid just as slowly down my throat.
Reaching the bank, I grabbed my satchel and retreated behind a tree to dry myself as best as I could and get changed. Bastien promised to keep a look out and warn me if anyone was approaching. Once I’d finished, I returned to see that he had also changed into another loose set of clothes.
I pulled my jacket on and zipped it up high before we returned to where we had left the rest of the werewolves. It seemed that everyone was awake by now. I caught sight of Dane from the corner of my eye, climbing out of the lake. Had he been spying on us? From Bastien’s concerned look, he seemed to suspect as much.
Then I spotted Brucella throwing me a dirty look. I let my eyes pass over her, ignoring her.
About a quarter of an hour later, everybody declared they were ready to leave. I climbed onto Bastien’s back once again, and we set off.
* * *