CHAPTER8
The godof death and Darcy stood in the doorway of Cate’s humble abode with concerned looks on their faces, as if she herself was a teenager being left home alone for the first time.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay? Maybe we can help…” Darcy pleaded.
Cate looked to her kitchen table, which boasted the rather large shifter, before looking back at her friends. Though she appreciated the offer, the gesture one that left her feeling genuinely thankful for the two individuals she called friends, she knew things would likely run smoother if there was not a small crowd huddled around Gunner when he would inevitably wake.
“There is nothing you can do that you have not already done.” She forced a smile.
Hades looked her over speculatively. “I would say we should do this again sometime Cate, but—”
“I know. All things considered, it was kind of nice to see you again.” Her smile lifted only a fraction. She had not realized how much she’d missed the company of her friend.
Hades smirked at her in favor.
“I’ll be back to check on you in the morning,” Darcy yawned.
“Of course. I wouldn’t expect any less.” Cate sighed.
She’d learned early in their friendship it was pointless to argue with Darcy. The woman always took the bait, hook, line, and sinker and would not rest until she’d had the last word. She also knew how the mortal liked her sleep, and thus she knew the chances of Darcy’s morning arrival would be far more unlikely than she professed it would be.
Cate shut the door on her friends quickly, if only to get them off her doorstep faster. She needed to think, to research. To gather her thoughts, and whatever else she might need to bring Gunner back into the conscious world.
Then I will give him his stupid rock, he can leave, and I can forget this whole ordeal.
Even as Cate thought the words, it seemed a strange feeling pooled in her gut, one she hadn’t felt in ages. Cate pushed it away like a pesky moth.
Keeper of the Wolves.
Lucifer had spoken aloud her former nickname, one she had not thought about in far too long. It had been quite some time since she’d mingled with shifters. It seemed as civilizations progressed, the shifters had evolved into managing their own packs, and most saw themselves as supernatural beings higher on the food chain. As the years droned on by, Alphas shunned the Keeper of the Wolves. Aside from the stray caged spirit or any magically inclined issues, they no longer seemed to need her.
They did not pray to her or seek guidance. Instead, they’d cast a bubble about their community, their kind.
But she preferred the isolation, as it were, so she did not resist their rejection.
Cate removed her shoes, tossing the boots aside with enough force they hit the leg of the wooden chair with a clunk. She set about pulling out her journals, not quite sure what she was looking for but knowing she would find an answer nonetheless.
Belle trotted out from Lord knows where, her bright green eyes looking over Cate with burgeoning curiosity.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Cate mused as she opened her cupboards, fingers searching for basic ingredients.
Belle only snuffed her head to the side and paraded on by. Cate glanced at the clock. How it was only one-thirty in the morning was beyond her. It felt as if the night was positively endless.
After a good twenty minutes of scuttling about her house, she’d assembled a variety of tools and ingredients she felt confident would be just the thing to bring Gunner out of stasis, as Hades had called it.
Then we can rectify thissituationand I can get back to my life…
Cate lit her black candles, holding them over her subject rather eerily, the wax pouring over the side in long, tenuous drips onto Gunner’s chest. He did not even flinch, a sure sign his stasis was quite deep. As she set the candles aside, she collected her rose and patchouli oil, which was a mixture of oil and crushed rose hips she had muddled together in a smooth, marbled mortar and pestle dish. She wet her fingers with the sweet smelling oil, letting it run along her fingertips, and she took a deep breath. She rather loved the smell of rose and patchouli, the earthy tones quite soothing to her soul.
Her long fingers drew slick sigils on top of Gunner’s well-defined chest, long black nails sliding through his dark chest hair, curving around the edges of his pectoral muscle. His body was still warm to her touch and heated the oil instantly.
Cate swallowed momentarily at the realization that he was the first man she’d ever brought into her cabin.
And he is unconscious, so what does that say about you, Cate?She chastised herself as she ran her fingers down his sides, feeling the muscles carved beneath his skin hard and warm and…
Cate suddenly felt rather warm herself, despite the fact she was only wearing a tank top and a skirt.
“Get a grip on yourself, he's just a man. You’ve had plenty of them in your time. This one’s no different...” She spoke aloud to the empty room as she wiped off her oiled fingers with a damp cloth. Belle meowed in the distance, in protest.