Ronan jogged outside, pacing the perimeter of the house, unsettled and uncertain and very much struggling with a truth he wasn't prepared to admit. After several years of fruitless pursuit and searching, he'd found his Omega.
His destined mate.
And to make matters worse, she was an Omega who hailed from the pack of his clan's sworn enemies and who had been mercilessly punished for God knew what terrible crime she'd committed.
It remained to be seen whether the she-wolf would even survive her suffering, and if she did, living a life of endless torture from those wounds and burns was no life at all.
Not even Ronan himself reckoned he could survive through her agony; he'd sooner off himself rather than enduring even one second of it.
He'd witnessed plenty of death throughout his life, especially during the mass killing of his clan members orchestrated by the ancestors of the Moonborn pack.
What did it matter if one more miserable Moonborn wolf died before his eyes?
Ronan fisted the side wall of the house angrily and then shifted into his beastly Lycan skin to take off into the forest, in much need of solitude to carefully consider his situation and next decisions.
It was early morning by the time he returned, the sun just over the horizon as warm streaks of its light filtered through the trees.
Ronan found the she-wolf ambling her way outside the bedroom door, her hands cautiously feeling her way along the wall. Her footsteps were light and slow; perhaps her limbs were still too weak to be up and about by herself.
Ronan deliberately switched from his near silent walking to thumping noisily up the stairs.
Vivian paused, her head turning his way, her eyes still covered by the cloth. Obedient. Even though she couldn't see her way, she didn't dare to remove it from her eyes.
Smart omega. Ronan thought.
"I'm sorry," Vivian's small voice said before Ronan could speak. "I was looking for the bathroom."
"Through here," Ronan replied, guiding her by the hand. "I'll redo your dressings later; the effects of the poultice will start to wear off at some point."
"Thank you…" the she-wolf let the sentence hang, face angled towards the Lycan, clearly seeking his name. When Ronan didn't offer it, she mumbled, "Alpha," and shifted her gaze to the ground.
Ronan eyed her intensely for a moment before ensuring she was orientated to the bathroom, letting her go. He waited outside and then led her back to the room.
"I'll get you some breakfast," Ronan said.
"No, thank you, Alpha. I'm not hungry," Vivian replied, lying back down on the bed.
She didn't want to impose on his generosity, and being in such a weak, helpless state only infuriated Vivian.
"Suit yourself," Ronan remarked sharply, his brows taut in annoyance at her refusal before he shut the door and made his way back downstairs.
The morning passed slowly, and Ronan spent most of it outside, either in his Lycan skin releasing an inner beastly rage or surveying his lands to check whether the Moonborn wolves would dare to cross the river.
He noticed them hovering near the edge of the river banks on their side of the river, but they always retreated behind the tree line whenever his daunting figure stood tall on the hill as sentinel.
Returning mid-morning, Ronan decided that, regardless of whatever the she-wolf said, she needed to eat to conserve her strength. The Lycan set about fixing her some breakfast, toasting some bread, and preparing hard-boiled eggs.
Carrying them upstairs, Ronan sensed that she was awake, her heartbeat oddly fast.
Ronan quickened his footsteps and pushed the door open with his shoulder, setting the tray down first.
The she-wolf was huddled in the middle of the bed, her knees curled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Soft whimpers tumbled from her lips as she rocked back and forth, keening softly under her breath.
Ronan knelt on the bed in front of her and the she-wolf slowly lifted her head. The Lycan reached two hands for the blindfold, gently drawing it down over her nose, mouth, and chin.
Reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks met him as Vivian gasped quietly and shuddered. The effects of the poultice had worn away much quicker than he'd expected.
"Why didn't you call me?" Ronan groused, his jaw shifting. "Hold on, I have everything ready downstairs for the dressing change."
The poultice was a rough and ready mixture he amalgamated on short notice. He'd had time since to conjure up a new batch of an ointment that was stronger but easier to administer.
Ronan was down and back up in two minutes. Only when he returned, he realised he had an opportunity, as little as he was daring to take it.
From the bathroom, he took a basin and filled it with warm, soapy water and soaked a sponge in it. Grabbing some towels, he returned to his guest.
"I'll need to soak the bandages to get them off, then clean the skin beneath before we start again. You must have known the pain was returning when I helped you to the bathroom. Why didn't you say anything?" Ronan's tone and words were nothing short of a concerned scolding.
Vivian didn't reply, eyes closed, body shaking.
Ronan laid her down on her back and set to work.
This was most definitely going to hurt, and this time he couldn't debate the courtesies of modesty when dealing with Vivian's body.
The she-wolf would have to bear with his intrusion, and she very well knew her body's condition was more urgent than her strong need to remain decent.
Nevertheless, Ronan laid her shawl over her waist and hips, turning his head to the side when he had to tend to the burn between her breasts.
It made Vivian feel a little more at ease when he wasn't directly looking at her although he'd already seen everything there was to the little she-wolf.
"Tell me why this was done to you," Ronan demanded, knowing she was far to distracted and mind boggled with the pain to lie.