Chapter 11
ELARA'S POV
The healing room carried the strong aroma of dried plants, a welcome shift from the stark, chilly stone that enclosed it. I'd been pitching in here for a couple of weeks now, ever since that run-in with Ronan, and I'd been mulling things over nonstop since then... Did these folks really merit my assistance? Would they rat me out eventually? Or could they keep up this gratitude without turning around and exploiting what I could do?
I hadn't landed on any solid answers that truly convinced me to commit long-term; instead, I figured I'd give them a shot, but honestly, the bigger pull was that I couldn't just stand by while blameless people wasted away. The young girl had pulled through, but fresh ailments kept looming over the pack—the very fighters who kept everyone safe. If for no other reason, I owed it to step up.
Each day felt like a grind against the illnesses, and sometimes against my own doubts. But I was picking up skills bit by bit. Beyond relying solely on my blood, I'd discovered other methods. The pack's medics, who eyed me suspiciously at the outset, had warmed up enough to share their knowledge. Well... most of them, anyway—except for Marcus. I swear, he and Marceline probably lost sleep just stewing over my mere existence.
Martha had picked up on it too; one afternoon, she tugged my sleeve to snag my focus. "I get the feeling Lady Marceline could turn into real trouble."
"You picking that up just now?"
"She might not quit until she figures out a way to boot you out... for good."
Her warning sent a cold ripple down my back, but I wasn't about to fold. "She doesn't have a solid motive. If anything, I'm more of an asset to this pack than a risk." Deep inside, though, I knew it wasn't solely the pack's turnaround in how they saw me that had her riled up.
It was Ronan. From the far side of the space, I sensed his gaze lingering on me, even though he stood only a short distance from Marceline.
"Could that be what's eating at her?"
"Hmm?" My attention snapped back to Martha. "Not following..."
"Perhaps she's intimidated by what you can do?"
Still, the healers' know-how was priceless, but I brought my own advantage—a hidden strength I was gradually learning to harness better.
Martha had assisted me in getting settled into my personal space only days earlier. It was cozy and simple, but hey, it was all mine, offering that bit of seclusion I craved.
"I'd call that a wrap for the day, yeah?" I asked, pushing back from the stool, my eyes narrowing at Idris, one of the pack's medics.
"Yep," he replied with a subtle grin. "Appreciate your help today."
"Oh, no big deal."
As I twisted the knob, a small boy with sunny blond locks stepped inside. "Hey there," I said, crouching down to his eye level. "Something bothering you?"
He shook his head no, then fished around in his little pocket and pulled out a handmade bracelet. "This is for you, as thanks. Please?"
I scanned his earnest face for a second before taking it, a warm smile creeping across my own as I admired the weave. It wasn't flawless craftsmanship, but coming from a grateful kid made it feel extra meaningful. "Thank you so much."
His face lit up with a huge beam, and he scampered off, easing the door shut behind him.
"I'd say the little ones are pretty fond of you," Idris's comment cut through the quiet. "That's the sixth token now."
"Yeah, seems like it," I shrugged. The shift still threw me off, but I wasn't going to gripe, especially over something from a child. "I'll head out then."
"Sure thing."
Stepping into the hallway and pulling the door closed, I spotted Marcus lurking behind a nearby tree. He appeared deep in talk with somebody—couldn't quite make out who, but it seemed like a woman, her outline just out of clear view.
Eh—not my concern anyway.
I made my way back to the main building, acknowledging folks' hellos with a quick nod or a brief reply. I was wiped out beyond words.
"Elara!" A woman's voice I knew well called out from behind. I spun to see Martha balancing a platter as she hurried over.
"Hey,"
"You look beat—did you wrap up late?"
"Yeah,"
"In that case, hungry? Supper's set."
I managed a tired smile, touched by the simple gesture. "Thanks, I'll come down shortly."
"Oh, skip it. I'll swing by your room with it once I'm done here," she lifted the tray a tad higher. "You go get cleaned up."
She didn't hang around for my answer, just kept moving. That struck me as odd—it's not like I held some high rank; why go out of her way to bring it personally?
I shook it off—whatever. Not the priority right now. As I stepped ahead, the vibe in the air changed. I glanced around and locked eyes with Ronan from across the way. My breath snagged, leaving me frozen on what to do next.
Greet and bolt? Or hang back in case he wanted a word? Did he even have anything to share?
Lately, his aura had loomed large over everything. The alpha's command and sheer presence was impossible to overlook. His stares landed on me more frequently than before, not just for pack matters or directives, but in these quiet instances where the space between us felt charged and condensed.
Standing there, I felt that familiar tug deep in my core. The mate connection, vibrating just under the surface, like a hushed thunder ready to boom.
I wondered if it hit him the same way.
"Elara," he said, his tone deep and gravelly.
I dipped my head, pivoting fully to face him with a respectful incline. "Evening."
He closed the gap, the corridor suddenly feeling tighter with him so near. "How've you been?"
His question threw me for a loop. "Um... alright, thanks."
He inched even closer, now barely a breath away. I fought the urge to retreat from the intensity, but for whatever reason, I held my ground.
"You're fitting in well here, better than I'd figured. Appreciate it."
I swallowed, slowly lifting my gaze to meet his. Just as his mouth parted to add more, another presence materialized.
Marceline, and she looked anything but pleased.