My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

"What else happened?" August asked. She could feel his mind running over something else that he wasn't saying.

"I'm worried about your eyes," he pushed off the counter and rounded the island to come stand next to her.

"It's not like there's anything wrong with me," she laughed softly and looked away from his intensity.

She didn't have an answer for this, and she didn't want him to worry about it when there was so much else going on. When she looked back up, his forehead was still creased, eyebrows threaded together as he looked her over.

He couldn't feel or sense that anything was wrong with her, but… why was this happening? He ran a hand down the side of her face, his thumb lingering, tracing her eyebrow and the curve of her orbital bone. What mysteries were there still inside of his mate? He thought of the male Violet had described who had the same eyes. Perhaps she was mistaken, but… the mention of him stealing her wolf. He gulped and dropped his hand.

"There is something else," she said, sensing the flicker of distance between them as his thoughts wandered. "What is it?"

He raked a hand through his hair. How was he supposed to explain this? He could feel the looming unknown of her reaction to what Violet had said, particularly because of August's early fears about harming this pack. Now there was someone similar to her… Similar to her and yet so different. Hopefully she would understand that.

"How do you get back to that place?" he asked, eschewing the topic for now.

"Place? What place?"

"That place where you healed. With the tree guardian."

"I don't know. She never mentioned it, and I didn't think to ask."

"Last time it was when you just collapsed after healing Greta. It can't always take something extreme like that. I want to know what's going on with your eyes. And if you can heal there, I want you to do it," he said it almost like it was a command. They couldn't have anymore unforeseen issues like August collapsing out of nowhere.

"If I knew how to get back there, I would," she laughed, suddenly feeling defensive. Was it her fault this was happening and she didn't know what was going on?

"You have to figure it out," he told her, and her eyebrows dipped at his firm insistence. "It needs to be a priority. Would Sage know? Or the… the bird?" How ridiculous did it sound that he even suggested that.

"The bird?"

"Yeah, your crow that led you to the dungeon to talk to Zoe. The same one that was at your healing place."

"I don't know," she laughed again. "Is this really what we need to be worrying about right now? If I needed to be there, I would. Okay? It's just an eye color. Who cares."

"If it means there is some underlying issue with you, then I care. Everyone cares—and you should, too."

"I care, it's just… I feel fine, okay?"

"Maybe it has to do with the pregnancy," Graeme was thinking aloud, ignoring her as he searched his memory.

When the petals started spiraling up a second time, the tree guardian said that there was something else unexpected at work that the guardian had been unaware of. It could have been the pregnancy. Was it harming her? His eyes snapped back to hers in worry.

"Will you stop looking at me like that?!" she exclaimed and turned for the bedroom. This conversation was not what she expected.

"Maybe if we lie down…" he went to follow her, thinking of ways that they could get back to her fae place.

"I have an idea! Why don't you heal me, Graeme?" she replied sarcastically, turning to face him. "You seem so sure that there is something wrong with me, and you are fae too, remember?"

"I…" he looked at his hands while she rolled her eyes and went to the bathroom. "I'm not like you!" he called after her.

"There is nothing wrong with me, stop worrying!" she yelled through the door.

She stared at herself in the mirror, those amber filaments in her eyes again. They were burning darker because she was angry, which of course made them more obvious. Why was he being so pushy about this right now? Her eyes had been like this all that time before she even met the tree guardian with no ill effects.

Graeme found himself alone in the bedroom looking at his own hands as he searched for answers. How had this turned into an argument? He was concerned about her and what was still unknown, but he didn't want to fight about it.

Perhaps the urgency he felt for getting August's eyes back to normal was in part due to Violet's story about this other dangerous male that sounded as if he, too, was from Eliade. If Violet started telling people what happened to her, August's gold eyes may cause some pack members to fear her when there was no reason to. And it may cause August to again fear herself.

He let out heavy breath and sat on the bed. "I'm sorry Little Red," he muttered.

He was failing at trusting her again—that she would know if there was an issue with herself. And he was unknowingly allowing Violet's experience to create insecurity about how the pack would receive August rather than trusting that her presence would communicate all that was necessary. She was their Luna. They would feel it.

August felt her mate's emotions buoying up an apology on the other side of the door. Tomorrow was going to be a long, important day, and she really didn't want to argue with him on the eve of all of that. They would be surrounded by the whole pack all day tomorrow, and she really just wanted to enjoy him alone while she could. But while they were in this contentious space together, there was something she wanted to know that she might as well ask now.

August opened the door to find Graeme sitting on the bed. He raised his head to have his puppy-dog eyes meet hers.

"Tell me how you got shot in Wisconsin."