183 Ava: Jericho’s Acceptance
Since neither shifter seems very interested in talking, I sit with only my thoughts for company.
Even Selene is silent in my head, though she rests her chin on my leg, her eyes deceptively closed.
She’s not asleep, but still dealing with whatever demons are inside of her right now.
Both guards tense as Selene’s ears flick around.
Someone’s coming, she says, lifting her head to stare at the door. When both guards relax after that distracted look from them linking with someone, she does too, despite sniffing at the air.
Jericho, she says, as the door opens and his grizzled head pokes into the room.
Jericho glances around, looking at both guards with clear contempt, before nodding to me. “Girl,” he says gruffly.
in
My lips twitch into a faint smile, an unexpected warmth blooming
my chest at his informal address. At least one thing hasn’t changed. He still treats me the same, even after everything that’s happened.
“Wait outside,” Jericho orders the two ill–at–ease shifters, jerking his head toward the door. They hesitate for a moment, exchanging an uncertain look, but a single raised eyebrow from Jericho has them scurrying out of the room.
The door closes with a soft click, and Jerich
Jes
Acceptanés
back to me. “How’re you doing? Feeling okay?”
I open my mouth, ready to assure him that I’m fine, but the words lodge in my throat. Am I okay? After the riot, Todd’s mother, the vampire attack, and all the little truths Vanessa has managed to open my eyes to… I don’t think I am.
But complaining about it doesn’t seem right, either.
Jericho seems to sense my inner turmoil. He sighs, running a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Listen, girl, all young pups make mistakes. It’s part of growing up.”
“Young pup?” The term catches me off guard. I haven’t been called that since I was a child.
Maybe a few times, but I don’t really remember them.
A wry smile tugs at the corner of Jericho’s mouth. “You’re still young, a baby in my eyes. I’ve been around long enough to see countless pups stumble and fall. Done it myself, in fact.”
“Yourself?” It’s hard to imagine him, a grizzled old man of little praise and a lot of torture, making mistakes as a child.
It’s hard to imagine he even had a childhood.
In my head, he just appeared in this world one day, old and cantankerous, yelling at innocent out–of–shape wolf shifters until they run out of sheer terror.
“You need to manage your expectations,” Jericho continues, his gaze intense. “But I like the look in your eyes now. You seem like you’ve gotten a little stronger.”
Stronger? His assessment comes as a surprise Idaue
stronger. In fact, I feel embarrassed by how strong I thought I was
not so long ago.
Blinded by peace.
“I really need to go back to training” I mutter, rubbing Selene’s head. She’s already lowered her head and closed her eyes again, leaving me to Jericho’s presence alone. “I feel like I’ve already softened up.”
Jericho’s eyebrows raise a fraction. “Are you an idiot? Muddle–headed sheepdog, maybe?”
Rude. But I don’t have the energy to rise to his bait. “What do you
mean by that?”
Answering with nothing but a curt grunt, he instead takes the opportunity to pace my room in short, slow strides. It takes a little time for me to realize he’s inspecting everything, his nostrils flaring as he scents the air.
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