So, it turned out the witch was in possession of some manners, after all.
“Okay.” The Alpha nodded. “Release them, Bren, and fit them with cuffs. I won’t have any stray magic near the pack. We’ll put them up for the night, and they can leave first thing in the morning.”
“Thank you, Daddy!” Their little savior pressed a series of slobbery kisses on her father’s cheeks as he turned and strode away. Tia waved from over her father’s shoulder, and Octavia smiled weakly back.
Then Bren opened the lock, and his hand reached inside the cage. “Come here.”
CHAPTER 5
Dinner with a Side of Awkward Conversations
The cage was bad, but the prohiberis cuffs were horrible. Bren hadn’t been kind when he put them on Octavia’s wrists, but she hadn’t complained. Her discomfort seemed so small compared to Flynn’s. The witch had started sweating profusely the moment the cuffs had been slapped onto him. His face was ashen, and he grunted in pain as he walked next to Octavia.
Flynn’s sword and her walking stick were still nowhere to be seen.
The village Bren led them through reminded Octavia of Firefall. Longhouses stood tall, flourishing gardens surrounded them, and the wind carried children’s laughter to their ears. Twilight cast shadows upon them as they walked, and people stared at them, but Octavia didn’t look back. The prohiberis cuffs were heavy, and her foot had a heartbeat of its own. Her bag hung over her shoulder, hitting her hip rhythmically.
Bren led them into the furthest longhouse. Two large werewolves sat across a roaring fire, their gazes dark as they stared menacingly at them.
“Take a seat.” Bren gestured to the empty log. “Your dinner will be here soon.” Then, as if the men staring them downfrom across the fire weren’t sending enough of a message, Bren added, “Don’t try anything.”
As if. This was obviously someone’s home, with blanket-covered pallets lining the walls. It seemed homey, although there was no one else there.
Deciding the best thing she could do was obey, Octavia dropped onto the empty log. Flynn sat next to her. It was nice to be out of the cage, and her body appreciated the lack of bars around them. She stretched out her legs and wiggled her toes.
Silence filled the longhouse, the crackling of logs the only sound.
The cuffs grew heavier and heavier. Unbidden, Octavia’s mind filled with memories of Firefall. The snapping of burning wood, the crisp scent of smoke, and the deep, comforting smell of burning wood reminded her of home.
A few minutes later, a woman wearing a black dress and a white apron entered with four plates. She was silent, handing them first to the men across the fire, then to Octavia and Flynn.
“Thank you,” Octavia said.
The quiet woman smiled and dipped her head.
“Ylana,” one of the men growled. “Go.”
Her smile dropped, and she hurried out of the longhouse.
When Ylana was gone, Octavia’s gaze dropped to the plate in her lap. A quarter roasted chicken, some sort of mash, and leafy greens looked and smelled heavenly. It had been too long since she had a proper meal.
Still, she was cognizant that the werewolves weren’t pleased with their presence here. She waited until the men across the fire took their first bites before she dug in.
The moment the roasted meat hit her tongue, she moaned. Good gods, she was starving. She devoured the entire plate, eating every single morsel before running her finger through thefat and licking that off. She felt full for the first time in over a month.
By the time her plate was empty, the guards were no longer intently staring at them. They seemed to realize she and Flynn weren’t an immediate threat and they’d returned to conversing quietly together.
“Wasn’t that delicious?” Octavia smacked her lips. “I think roasted chicken…”
Her words trailed off as she glanced at Flynn for the first time since getting her food.
Oh, gods.
He looked… well, terrible. For Flynn. For a regular person, he was still insanely attractive. But for him? Pain was etched on his countenance, and his plate was still full.
Her gaze dropped to his hands, and she gulped. Flaming skin sat beneath his manacles.
She gasped, reaching out to touch him before pulling back. “Flynn, your hands. Are they hurting?”