Mourgent knew Zazriel loved the chair, but he was sure that she didn't think this was anything special. No matter that he asked for the gloves, or the seat to be extra comfortable. It didn't matter that he chose the modifications to make her life easier. She just saw the chair as payment. That is all.
So he didn't smile when she skidded to a halt before him and told him she liked it. He didn't talk on the way to the play yard where the children would have another hour to play before it was time for bed. He didn't acknowledge the smiled he got from his friends as the my saw him with Zazriel again. He felt almost empty, like when she first began ignoring him.
When they reached the play yard, Zazriel left his side to play for a while, not giving him a word of thanks. But he had come to expect that. He didn't know why or how, but he knew she wouldn't.
Orion stepped up beside him and crossed his arms. "Nice chair."
"Yeah."
Orion glanced at him, brows furrowed. "What happened?"
Mourgent shook his head. "It's petty. Doesn't matter."
Orion gave him a doubtful look, but said nothing more.
Ten minutes later, Zazriel caught sight of Mourgent looking around, a frown on his face. Did he wish he were doing something else? Did he wish he was with someone else? She didn't know, but her mind refused to let her hurt show.
Exhausted, she wheeled over to him. He gazed down at her, looking like a soldier. "I'm tired."
He nods, then began walking away. She slumped, and slowly followed. She had hope, but now that fragile thing was crumbling. His apology and his comfort had given her hope that he might want her back. Was she wrong?
When they returned to Matilda's, he stayed in the kitchen to speak to the healer while Zazriel went to prepare for sleep. If he didn't want to talk to her, then she wouldn't force him. She would keep her distance. No matter what her heart wanted. At least it was broken. It couldn't get worse, could it?
After she dressed and got into bed, there was a knock. She gave permission, thinking it was Matilda, but when she looked up, she saw Mourgent. She sat up straight and gave him a forced smile. He sat in the chair and sighed. "Tomorrow, I will be helping Carlotta and Zelda set up for the feast. I won't be able to come see you at all."
She swallowed. "When is the feast?"
"One week."
She looked away. "What will happen?"
"Alphas and a few of their pack mates will come. They will stay for a week to build alliances, then before they leave, we eat to celebrate friendship."
Zazriel nods, unsure what to say.
Mourgent apparently didn't want to hear her because he said, "Good night, Zazriel."
With that, he left. Nothing to assure her he wanted her back. She fell asleep crying softly.
Mourgent kept himself busy for the next three days, angry at himself and needing to control his urge to see Zazriel. He didn't want her animosity or quiet contempt around him.
But as he was about to start on a guest house for an alpha, Matilda said Zazriel was throwing up and beginning to have hallucinations. He cursed and ran out of the house to find her.
He ran into the room to see Zazriel with a bucket hiding her face and her skin a pale white. He cursed again and went to sit with her, holding her hair back. When she finally did stop puking her guts up, she began to cry. Mourgent held her for the rest of the day.
The next day, he went straight to Zazriel and ordered her to dress. She didn't look much better, but she did as he said, with a little help from Matilda.
He led her away from the pack housing area and away into the forest. He would not let anyone interrupt him again. Orion and Zelda could handle the preparations. He had to figure out how to bring Zazriel back to him.
Zazriel was beginning to feel delirious again when she saw a small cottage in the middle of nowhere. It was like out of one of her father's stories from childhood. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. It was still there. "Where are we?" she asked, voice cracking.
"Alone," Mourgent said shortly.
She didn't understand this male, but would not let him break what little defense around her heart she had. Not again. Never again.
Mourgent paused outside the cottage and went around to sit beside her, eyes alert. "Zazriel, we need to talk about you and me, about how to fix this. I want you to live and be my Luna, but you're not helping much. I gave you the new chair as a sign of my love for you, but you didn't say a word of thanks to me. I talked to you before and it seems as if you've forgotten about it. I-"
"Me?" She asked, voice high. "I forgot nothing! You decided to stay away from me! You are the one who kissed her! You are the one breaking my heart!"
"But you are the one who didn't come up to me and explain yourself," he said in a low tone. "None of this would have happened if you would have talked to me. I would have let you take Eva out immediately if I had known. I would have made modifications to everything. But you shut me out."
She bit her lip, knowing he was right. "I was afraid and angry. I thought you were sleeping with her, even though we were mates."
Mourgent gave a low growl. "Eva is a manipulative shewolf who doesn't like competition. She saw me as a prize and you as her enemy. She wanted this. She wanted you out of the picture." He brought a hand up to cup her cheek. "And she can still succeed."
Zazriel saw the truth in his eyes. She knew she had to start finding a way to forgive him, find a way to find happiness again. She looked down and shyly asked, "Do you promise?"
In answer, he kissed her. She sank into the kiss like she was dying of starvation. She craved his love, craved his care like she never thought. She didn't like being alone anymore. She didn't like the loneliness she fought so hard for within her own pack.
Mourgent pulled away a few moments later and smiled. "We have until the feast to be alone, to heal what damage is done. I want you to attend beside me when that time comes, Z. That means you must be strong."
She gave him a smile. "I will be strong long before that time comes."
They entered the little house and found ingredients to make a stir fry and rice. While the rice finished, Zazriel went to the only bedroom and looked around, finding some of her belongings already there, as well as a few new items. She used the bathroom then looked at the clothes, only to resented the bedroom to find a body on the bed.
It was Melissa.
"Mourgent!" she called.
Mourgent burst into the room and cursed. "How in the –"
"They knew you'd bring me here," she whispered. She wheeled over to the bed and scanned body up and down, and found what she was looking for. Her name carved into bones.
"Come on," Mourgent said softly, grabbing her chair and beginning to pull her away. "I'll have some come look at this."
She shook her head. "No. I know who it is. I think I know where to find them."
Mourgent went very still. His heartbeat racing in his chest. "What do you mean? Who is it?"
Zazriel shook her head, unable to believe herself. "Can we talk about it later?"
Mourgent couldn't see her face, but he heard the unsteadiness of her voice. He relented for now and took them outside after turning off the stove. He kept a firm grip on Zazriel's chair as he led her back to the pack living area. He didn't like the fact that she was being targeted, didn't like someone was using her pack members as bait.
A squawk so familiar made him stop and look up. "Nyx!" Zazriel gasped, holding out her hand. The falcon swooped down and perched on her arm, nipping affectionately at the female. For the first time since Mourgent first met Zazriel, she brightened with joy. It was nice, however he wanted that joy to be because of him."Would you mind taking me somewhere?" Zazriel asked softly.
"Depends."
She turned to look up at him. "You'll like it."
He narrowed his eyes. "Do I get to stay?"
She gave him a smile. "Only if I can run there."
He didn't protest, but let her shift into her wolf, her front legs so small compared to her back. He watched her for a time as she played with Nyx, mesmerized by her strength that others were blind to. After five minutes, she stopped and looked at him, eyes bright. She yipped, tail wagging, front bent forward as an offer to play.
He obliged.