Hunter's Descent by Lise MacTague

Hunter's Descent by Lise MacTague

Author:Lise MacTague [MacTague, Lise]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781642470727
Publisher: Bella Books
Published: 2019-10-03T04:00:00+00:00


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The bone-deep sobs faded as Mal’s breathing leveled into the regular rhythm of slumber. Ruri kept her arms clasped around her mate’s torso, even as she hiccupped occasionally in her sleep. She waited until the hiccups faded and Mal was all the way asleep before letting go. A lock of hair had fallen in front of Mal’s face as she cried. It was now soaked beyond belief. Ruri tucked the sodden lock behind Mal’s ear and watched her mate’s face relax. A persistent crease between her eyebrows was all that remained of the rictus of anguish her face had been locked into.

It was no wonder she was having trouble. She’d killed what was essentially a packmate, after all. Sure, she’d done it to save her sister, but Ruri knew from her own experience how much that hurt.

Poor Josephus hadn’t seen it coming. He hadn’t been in his right mind for days. Rabies was a hell of a disease to the wolven, much closer to how it progressed in animals than among humans. He couldn’t have been allowed to infect anyone else in the pack, and it had been one of Ruri’s first jobs to carry out as Dean’s newly-minted Beta. She’d kept to fur-form for days afterward, in constant physical contact with others of the pack before she and the wolf had recovered some semblance of their old selves.

She moved her hand to trace the long scar that ran around the bottom of her ribcage on the right side and stopped. Instead of the ropey sliver of rough skin, her fingers encountered only smoothness. Ruri lifted her other hand to feel for the notch on her ear, but it was also gone. She bounded off the bed and in front of the mirror, opening her shirt as she moved. When she held it open and stared at her reflection, she was astounded to see that her scars had all vanished. Her skin was as flawless as a baby’s.

Ruri stared, unable to believe that all the reminders of previous fights and scrapes were gone. Some of those scars had been a part of her for over a hundred years. Her breaths came fast and shallow around the hollowness in her chest. Losing them hurt as much as losing the tintype of her family. Without the scars to remind her, how many memories would fade? The skin on her shoulder itched. It was there that she’d been bitten by the wolven who’d turned her.

Jens Hagen had shown up at their farm one autumn afternoon and had talked her parents into having a photograph taken of the family, then had stayed the night with them. In the morning, they’d risen to find the first snowfall of the season had snowed them in. He stayed a few days until a thaw had cleared the road enough that he was able to get his wagon out of the barn. Despite the snow still clogging the roads and her hints that he could stay longer, he’d left.



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