This Dark Wolf (Soul Bitten Shifter #1) - Everly Frost Page 0,28
still murmuring colors to herself when I emerge from the bathroom fully dressed.
The bruises on my face are worse in the morning light. They’re on full display and despite all the wishing in the world, none of the shelves in the bathroom contains makeup I can use to mask them.
I consider whether or not the smart thing to do would be to crawl back into bed and stay there for the next week, but if I accept that Hidden House is a place of comfort, I might never want to leave it.
As I finish tying my hair in a loose ponytail, I mentally prepare myself for exiting the room into the unknown. Helen said I could explore the house as much as I want, but that I won’t be able to go anywhere I’m not supposed to go. I intend to test that rule if I possibly can. Even if I’m not ready to leave, I’d like to know whether or not I can.
Passing Ella on my way, I notice that the canaries have changed color.
“Purple… green… orange… wolf…” Ella whispers as I stride past her.
The last addition to her list registers in my hearing, making me pause midstride.
“Orange… purple… wolf…” Ella falls silent, even though the birds continue to dip toward her fingertips. A crease forms in her forehead. She tilts her head to the side. Still focused on the canaries, as if she’s speaking to them and not to me, she asks, “Human?”
The inflection at the end of her speech turns her statement into a question.
Am I a wolf? Or am I human?
Honesty seems called for. Ella has done nothing to me. I have no reason to distrust her. “I don’t really know,” I murmur. “Both? Neither? Nobody could ever explain to me why I was born this way. Not even my dad.”
It’s a strange sort of relief to speak aloud the difficulty that has plagued me my whole life. When I was younger, I demanded that my father explain to me why I have a human soul—why my wolf has an animal’s energy without its soul. He looked me in the eye and told me he didn’t know. To this day, I don’t know if he was lying to me.
Ella blinks at the birds while I speak.
She’s quiet for another moment and it’s hard for me to tell whether or not she even understood me.
She resumes her list. “Purple… green…”
I leave her to it and venture into the hallway outside.
A second after I close the door behind me, the door to the room across the corridor opens and a woman steps from inside it. Her long, black hair is piled up on her head and her large, blue-gray eyes are framed with the longest, thickest black lashes I’ve ever seen. She’s wearing knee-high leather boots over tight black pants and a low-cut black T-shirt, the ebony of her clothing making the brightness of her eyes pop. The most surprising thing about her is the weapons belt slung around her hips. I count three daggers and two handguns and that’s only at the front. The handle of another dagger protrudes at the side of her hip.
The open door reveals a glimpse of night sky beyond her. I blink at her room full of silver spots, glittering like stars, bright, a floor but no walls, before she firmly closes the door behind her.
Unlike Ella, who is quiet and distant, this woman is a picture of confidence and assertiveness.
I’m immediately curious about why she’s here since she doesn’t look like she needs help of any kind.
“New person,” she says, leaning against her closed door with a curious gleam in her eyes, her rose-bud lips pursed as she considers me carefully. “What do I call you?”
I find her directness reassuring. “You can call me ‘Tessa Dean.’ I’m a wolf shifter.”
“Hello, Tessa Dean. I’m Iyana Ballinger.” She pronounces her first name ‘eye-yah-nah,’ running the sounds together so smoothly that it sounds like a melody. At the same time, she casts her gaze across my face and down to the bruises visible on my forearms since I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt. “Someone really fucked you up, Tessa Dean.”
Remembering what Helen said about privacy, I decide that the same rules apply to me. I can say as little or as much as I want about my past. Resisting the urge to touch my bruised cheek, I gesture at her weapons. “You look like you can handle anything.”