Wicked Cravings (The Phoenix Pack Series - By Suzanne Wright Page 0,148

an adamant statement, but he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince more—himself or Grace.

“I hope not, honey. I really hope not.”

Dante spent the rest of the day simply talking to the black wolf. Most of the words were for Jaime, but the gentling tone was for the wolf. She didn’t calm as he’d hoped. When she wasn’t pacing or attacking her cage, she was huddled in a ball growling at anyone who came even remotely close to the crate—him included. So far he could only get three feet from the cage without the wolf growling and baring her teeth. Two feet, he promised himself before he went to sleep that night on the chair in the examination room. I’ll make it to two feet away tomorrow.

But he didn’t. The wolf’s state was worse in the morning rather than better, though she did actually eat the food Grace brought for her. Again he spent his day with her, talking to her, remaining at her side in a gesture that said he was there for her, only her. The fact was that he had no idea how to win her wolf’s trust. Trust was something that had to be earned, but how did he earn it in such a short time without being in a situation where he was tested? He had no freaking idea.

The only plan he had been able to come up with was to become a permanent fixture in that room, and one that was never once threatening or frightening. He ate his meals in there, he showered in the en-suite bathroom when he needed to, and he slept in either the chair or the bed. He also ensured that he was the one who fed her and cleaned her cage—though she had to be tranquilized each time they needed to clean it. He would see to her every need, would make the wolf see that he could and would care for her.

Day three was also a bad day. The wolf jumped at every noise, every voice, every unexpected movement. It broke his heart to see her so frightened and anxious. He understood then why Jaime had been so compelled to sit with that little dog, Ben, in the sanctuary—that was all Dante wanted to do right now. Just sit with her and hold her, pet her, and comfort her. The problem was that each time he went near the crate, she attacked it. Answering his wolf’s desperate need to have contact with his mate, he had shifted forms. That hadn’t worked well. Her wolf had recognized him as her mate, but she didn’t associate him with safety or security, so she hadn’t wanted him close.

Days four, five, and six went pretty much the same way. Thankfully, Ivy and Riley had provided more tranquilizers so that he could keep knocking the wolf out whenever he needed to clean her cage. Both women had also asked to help care for her while she was in this state, claiming that they were experienced with traumatized animals. While that was true, he refused their offer. He wanted few scents in that room, and he wanted to be the one to heal her. He should be the one to heal her.

Day seven had been a truly bad day. She’d attacked the cage so hard that she’d cut open her paws. After giving her another tranquilizer shot, he and Grace had seen to the injuries. As soon as the wolf was aware and alert again, she’d torn off the bandages with her teeth and attacked the crate even harder than before. Still, Dante stuck to his plan of remaining with her and being the one who saw to all her needs. The problem was that whereas before she had more or less tolerated his presence, she was now angered by it rather than comforted.

The days began to blend and blur until, before he knew it, it had been another seven days and Jaime’s wolf was showing no signs of retreating. Agitated would be a mild word to describe how Dante was feeling. Occasionally he had snapped or shouted at the wolf, frustrated that none of his efforts were making her even slightly associate him with safety. Each time he snapped, her wolf would practically jump out of her skin and cower. And didn’t that make him feeling like a cruel son of a bitch.

As for Jaime…The truth that he hadn’t told anyone was that he couldn’t sense her very well anymore. He