My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

Lucas returned from his search of the healer Beth with bandages and supplies to take care of the injuries on the newly renamed Neoma's hands and feet, but she was resisting his help.

"I don't need to be babied like this, Lucas. I came to help get the alyko back," she insisted.

That was the only reason she could imagine that she was saved from the river and delivered here. It was the one lingering thought she had before dying—that she would want to help remedy the wrongdoing she had been involved with when she was the Zagan-created-Zosime. And the river had given her a new name for that quest. She wasn't going to squander it.

"Well your job is already half done then and you can at least let me take care of your injuries," he gave her a smile that she returned with a puzzled look.

"What do you mean it is already half done? I don't count," she replied, teeth chattering and lips purple despite having a blanket covering her.

"You were not the only one to return," he told her, taking out a water basin from under the sink and filling it with warm water to clean her feet. "Would you prefer a shower or bath? You are cold."

"I don't… no, I am perfectly fine," she said stubbornly. "What do you mean? Who else returned? Is Sage back? August? Was August taken?"

Lucas set the basin of water on the floor and gestured for her to put her feet in.

"No, those two have not returned," he mumbled, his eyebrows pinching together. "Five others did, though. Alyko who were taken years ago. We thought they were dead."

He saw the alyko being checked over by Beth and Greta when he went to search for the healer, and he was just as stunned as they all appeared to be. Zoe, or Neoma—he corrected in his mind—wasn't the only one to return. He recognized all of the females who were believed to be dead, because they looked exactly the same. It was as if no time had gone by.

"August is there with Zagan then," Neoma whispered. "She must have done something to make this possible—to bring us all back. I was walking with him," she gulped. "And then all of the sudden I was back with my old pack. I would have preferred the vampire to that place,"she said bitterly.

"What happened?" he asked, sitting on the floor next to her feet that were soaking.

"I woke up in a pig pen first. Sage was there, too. Zagan was being weirdly protective," her eyebrows threaded together, "almost like I was his kid or something."

"What do you mean?" Lucas asked, lifting one foot out of the water to inspect the bottom of it.

"He made me wear his jacket and told me I needed to change. I think he was taking me away from his lycan guards for a reason, like he doesn't trust them. I don't know," she grimaced, recalling it—recalling his eyes and his looming presence and his anger when she said his name.

Lucas' eyes flitted over her. She was gripping the blanket that was around her shoulders, holding it closed in front of her chest. He hadn't thought about it when he saw her, but he supposed she had been pretty exposed in that dress. It was only some kind of sick predator who would think of taking advantage of her. A muscle feathered in his jaw at the thought.

Once he was satisfied that her foot was clean, he patted it dry and gave the same attention to the second one. She had some nasty gashes on her feet that would need ointment to be sure they didn't become infected. It looked like she had been running for her life.

"What else happened, Zoe? I mean Neoma," he corrected himself, offering her a gentle smile at the mention of the new name.

"With Zagan? I didn't recognize where we were. It was different from before," she muttered. "And then, I don't know. One second, I was walking behind him, following him to a huge castle that looked like it was in ruins. The next, I was back in the cell from my childhood."

Lucas put ointment on her feet and wrapped them before standing up and pulling a chair next to the bed where he could sit and examine her hands.

"You escaped," he said, putting his hand out in silent request to see hers.

"Thank Goddess," she shivered, feeling the cold of the river that saved her.

She freed a hand from where it was clutching the blanket and laid it palm-up in his. They both stared at her scraped hand in his before he bent down and grabbed a rag to clean it, and a profound feeling of gratefulness came over her for this moment. Somehow she had gotten back to someone she could trust—to a place that felt safe. And he was so tenderly caring for her. Why?

"Do me a favor," Lucas said after several moments of them sitting in silence while he cleaned her hands. "Don't ever risk yourself for me again."

Neoma frowned, and he glanced up and noticed the deep furrow of her brow.

"I just—I can't live with myself if that happens. Save yourself, okay? What you did with that vampire… the deal you made with him for me. I don't deserve that, and I don't want it to happen again," he told her.

"Of course you deserve it," she scoffed. "Why wouldn't you? He would not have stopped until he killed you, and then he would have taken me and whatever else he wanted anyway. If I can reason with him and save someone…"

"Don't," he interrupted. "Not for me."

"But then you wouldn't be here right now," she said softly. "And I wouldn't have a friend."

"You may not have ever made it out, though! You could have been trapped there with him forever and made to do… who knows what. You could have been killed," his tone became sharp, which never happened when he talked with her. He was always patient and goofy, and the change had her pulling her hand back instinctively where it disappeared behind the blanket she was holding.

"Don't tell me who to save," she replied. "I have done nothing but help evil plans succeed in this lifetime. If there is anyone who doesn't deserve saving, Lucas, it's me."

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