Chapter 60: CHAPTER 60

Tessa’s POV

I walked back toward the beast, the wooden plate warm in my hands, the aroma of roasted venison rising to greet me. My heart felt lighter than it had all day—not because everything was fixed, not because I knew what would happen next, but because for the first time since the attack began, I had done something right.

The beast was still lying beneath the massive oak, its massive head resting on its paws, its dulled red eyes tracking my approach. The deer Kastiel had brought was nearly gone—only scraps remained, bones picked clean and scattered across the mud. The beast had devoured it with savage efficiency, and now it watched me with something that might have been curiosity.

I settled beside it, my back once again resting against its massive side. The warmth of its body seeped into me, chasing away the chill of the night air. I could feel its breathing, slow and steady, the rhythm of its massive heart beneath my hand.

For a long moment, neither of us moved. I sat there, my plate balanced on my knees, staring at the food I had been given. The meat was still warm, the bread still soft, the cheese firm and fragrant. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until now—the gnawing emptiness in my stomach suddenly impossible to ignore.

I ate slowly at first, savoring each bite. The venison was rich and savory, perfectly cooked over the open fire. The bread was still warm, the butter melting into its soft center. The cheese was sharp and tangy, a perfect complement to the meat.

The beast watched me as I ate, its massive head slightly tilted, its dulled red eyes fixed on my face. I could feel its attention, heavy and warm, like a blanket draped over my shoulders.

"Are you going to stare at me the whole time?" I asked, a small smile tugging at my lips. "It's not polite to watch people eat."

The beast let out a low, rumbling sound—not a snarl, not a growl, but something almost like amusement. It was a sound I had never heard from it before, and it made something warm bloom in my chest.

I finished my meal and set the plate aside, wiping my hands on my dress. The beast was still watching me, its massive head now resting on its paws, its eyes half-lidded and drowsy.

I reached out, my hand trembling slightly, and touched its muzzle. The beast leaned into the touch, letting out another low rumble of contentment.

"You're beautiful," I said softly, stroking the soft fur of its cheek. "Do you know that? You're terrifying and powerful and absolutely beautiful."

The beast's tail thumped once against the ground—a slow, heavy motion that sent a small spray of mud into the air. I laughed, a sound that surprised me. I hadn't laughed in what felt like forever.

"Did you just wag your tail at me?" I asked, my voice filled with wonder. "You did. You actually wagged your tail."

The beast let out another rumbling sound, and its tail thumped again. I couldn't help it—I laughed again, the sound bright and genuine.

I continued to stroke its muzzle, my fingers tracing the lines of its massive jaw, the curve of its skull, the soft fur behind its ears. The beast seemed to melt into the touch, its eyes closing, its body relaxing completely.

"You need a name," I said suddenly. "I can't keep calling you 'the beast.' It doesn't feel right. Not anymore."

I thought for a moment, my fingers still moving through its fur. What name could possibly fit a creature like this? Something powerful, something ancient, something that captured the essence of what it was.

"Fenrir," I said finally. "After the great wolf of legend. The one who would devour the gods themselves. It's a powerful name. A fierce name. It suits you."

The beast's eyes opened slowly, and for a moment, I could have sworn I saw something like approval in their depths. Its massive head lifted slightly, and it nuzzled against my hand, letting out a low, rumbling sound.

"You like it," I breathed, my heart swelling. "You actually like it. Fenrir. That's your name now."

The beast—Fenrir—let out a sound that was almost like a purr, and I felt tears prick at my eyes. I had named him. I had given him a name, and he had accepted it.

I lay back against his massive side, my head resting on the soft fur of his flank. The stars were out now, scattered across the sky like diamonds on black velvet. The night air was cool and clean, carrying the scent of wet earth and woodsmoke.

Fenrir shifted slightly, his massive body adjusting to accommodate me. His head turned, and I felt his breath on my face, warm and gentle.

"Thank you," I whispered, reaching up to touch his muzzle one last time. "Thank you for not hurting me. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for—"

I couldn't finish. The words wouldn't come. But I didn't need to say them. I felt the beast's warmth, heard its steady breathing, and I knew it understood.

My eyes grew heavy. The exhaustion of the day was finally catching up with me, pulling me down into a soft, welcoming darkness. I tried to fight it, tried to stay awake, but it was useless. My body needed rest. Needed to recover.

The last thing I was aware of was the warmth of Fenrir's body beneath me, the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the gentle pressure of his massive head resting against my side.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face, feeling safer than I had in a very long time.

And in my dreams, I heard a voice—soft, familiar, filled with something that sounded almost like gratitude.

Thank you, Tessa.