My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

"How are you feeling?" Greta asked, kneeling down next to them.

August didn't respond for a moment. The world was spinning, and Graeme's energy was still thrumming through her. How should she feel? She looked down at her arm, which had mostly healed but retained a gnarled, pink scar. The memories of the forest and of Marius came rushing to the surface, and a wave of fear shuddered through her.

"I feel okay," she said unsteadily, but Graeme could feel how her body reacted to it. He had to stifle a protective growl when he scented the spike of her fear.

August ran her finger along the scar slowly. "What happened? How long have I been out?"

"Three weeks and two days, to be precise," Greta responded. She smiled and touched August's leg lightly. "We're glad to have you back," she said, looking up at Graeme. "She feels cooler now. Can you bring her back to the room? She can put on dry clothes, and I need to check her vitals."

Graeme rose with August in his arms, carrying her through the house into the bedroom.

"Welcome to the Hallowell treehouse," Greta smiled as the two approached.

"Treehouse?" August's eyes went wide with wonder. Graeme set her carefully on her feet, holding onto her arms to make sure she was strong enough to stand. She wobbled a little finding her legs and turned around, looking up at the room.

This room shared the same wall of floor-to-ceiling windows as the main living area they had passed through, but the rest of the room sloped upward. Curved wood beams arched from the ground around the perimeter of the room gracefully up toward its center above her such that there was no distinction between wall and ceiling. It reminded her vaguely of a boat hull with the exception of being perfectly round.

An industrial looking ceiling fan hung from the center where the wood beams met, and below it was a curved wire bed frame that Greta was standing next to. Rather than a headboard, the frame curved gracefully upward with metal slats to create a canopy over the pillow area. A mosquito net was draped behind it that softened the metal work of the frame.

If it weren't for the fluids and monitors standing at attention on either side, she thought the bed would look like it was out of some kind of modern fairy tale. Warm chestnut floors pointed the way to the bed in chevron patterns beneath her, and she obliged them, walking forward unsteadily with Graeme hovering close by.

Greta saw her appreciating the room. "Do you like it? I helped Graeme renovate it a few years ago. Believe it or not, this used to be our treehouse as kids."

August saw the bedroom open into a bathroom area further in with brick walls and two round mirrors reflecting bare Edison bulbs hanging from black metal rods. The tub looked like an oversized replica of the two copper vessel sinks on the vanity. It had a floral quatrefoil design on its exterior with a free-standing black faucet arching gracefully over the generous-sized bowl. It was like a luxury suite at some exotic hotel. August nodded wordlessly.

"Why don't we get you changed first. May I?" Greta approached August with a change of clothes in her arms.

"Oh, um," August clutched herself protectively, feeling the wet clothes cling to her skin as she wondered about this awkward position she found herself in. She glanced again at the ruffled sheets of the bed and the equipment to the side. Had she really been unconscious all this time? She looked down at her bare feet as water was dripping and pooling around her. "I—I'm okay to do it."

Greta smiled warmly. "Of course. There's a privacy screen that Graeme can pull in front of the bathroom."

August noticed the screen of rice paper and wood slats that matched the rest of the room. Graeme emerged from behind her and slid the screen over, obscuring the bathroom area where she should apparently change. She couldn't help but notice how his wet clothes clung to him as well, revealing the broad, defined chest she had just been clinging to. He caught her gaze, and she quickly glanced away.

Graeme was here, in this room. Wasn't she just dreaming about him? She glanced back to his face—the long line of his nose, the perfect pout of his full lips that were framed by a dark beard, the angle of his eyebrows that seemed angry or serious even when his eyes were gentle, as they were now.

Was this still a dream? His presence stirred something warm and familiar in her as if she had always known him. As if he had always been there next to her. It wasn't anything she could understand. Reality seemed to be slipping, and the room started to spin around with her uprooted at its center.

"Oh no, is the fever coming back?" Greta stepped forward worriedly.

"No. No. I—I'm okay," August shook her head quickly and took the clothes from Greta's arms. "Thank you, Greta. I—I'm just a little dizzy. And… confused," she furrowed her eyebrows and took a step backward.

Graeme was beside her again in an instant. The swift movement surprised her, and she sucked in a sharp breath when his arm encircled her waist only to find that his touch somehow calmed her.

"Hold on to me," his dark eyes found hers, and there was nothing obstructing the worry that had deepened there as he waited for her to respond. The openness of the emotion in his eyes was so intense, she could only gape up at him. Why was he looking at her like that?

"I'll help you, August," he said simply, his voice low and gentle—only for her ears. And suddenly she was in his arms being carried like a child. Her face flushed with warmth as her eyes darted away from his. But once they were on the other side of the screen, he didn't release her. Slowly, she raised her questioning eyes again to find his.

"Thank you," she said quietly as their gazes locked. "It seems you saved me… again. I don't understand how you did it, but I'm grateful."

"There's nothing to thank me for. I'm sorry. For the forest, for Marius, for everything. I won't let anyone hurt you again," he spoke the words that were a promise to her as well as to himself. Pain flashed in her eyes for a moment as the memories resurfaced at his words, and she glanced away again.

Marius' thoughts were nightmares that would continue to haunt her. It was as if he had invaded a part of her with his most horrific side, terrifying her with a reality she had witnessed behind her own eyes—the reality that people could indeed be monsters.

Monsters. She looked curiously up at Graeme again, and once again she was overcome by the tenderness and intensity of him. This guy wasn't a monster. She could feel it in every cell of her being that somehow seemed to vibrate with his name.

He brushed his thumb over her lips, sending a shiver of pleasure through her that sought to erase the bad thoughts. "I give you my word," he breathed, and she believed him. Her eyes closed against his touch, and when she looked back up at him, her irises were dancing again with a vibrant gold.

Greta cleared her throat behind the screen, and Graeme glanced up like a scolded child. Somehow he managed to be devastating and adorable at the same time.. August's lips quirked up into a smile as she watched him.