Winter Wolf

Chapter 26

A/N: Trigger warning.

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Tristan jolted awake to the single hard pound. He felt groggy as he glanced to the door, but it didn't sound again.

He raised his hand to drag over his face, for the briefest of moments, he was confused where the hell he was.

Until he felt her light weight resting over him. Tris's gaze snapped down to her sleeping partially on his chest. But mostly, all he saw was messy white hair splayed out in every direction.

Tristan dropped his head back into the pillow and lazily ran a hand over her head and rested it there. Tristan didn't think he'd ever slept that well in his life. Something about having her there... his wolf felt at ease. Peaceful, warm.

She too seemed to be sleeping hard, her breathing deep and even, her heart rate slow. She didn't stir at his touch.

Tris lay there for a moment, not wanting to get up. Not wanting to break this moment and go back to all the troubles of life. He glanced to the narrow sky light. Sunlight was flooding in.

He had no idea what time it was.

Tristan looked down at her again as he tried to gently brush her hair back enough to find her face, but he quickly gave up. It was a massive tangled mess and she was partially sleeping atop it.

He couldn't help but smirk a bit. Even if she didn't have his scent thoroughly embedded all over her, in her... it was clear what they did all night by her appearance alone.

But the smirk was short lived. The realization that he didn't know where they stood now was sinking it. He just stared at her for a moment, trying not to let the disheartening feeling get to him.

Last night was progress. He tried to focus on just moving forward.... Leaving the past behind.

She seemed receptive.

Tristan slowly sat up, easing her off to the side as he looked to the door again. He was sure he heard it. Was someone trying to get their attention? He glanced back at her as she slept on, and he tried to gently move her into a more comfortable looking position, finally getting her hair out of her face, before he pushed out of bed.

So many things were going through his head. Logistics things. Could she travel yet? Would she go? They needed to get back to Lykaia... where he knew the grounds. Had their own. He wanted to put distance between Arthur and Cecil. He didn't trust them not to retaliate.

He needed to send someone out to find those females... if that's what it would take to get her to stay with him, he'd do anything.

Should he let her keep sleeping? Or wake her? She looked like she needed it. How much had she truly slept this last week? She looked exhausted...

... would she be sore? They had done a lot... He hadn't thought of that. He glanced to the bathroom. There was no bathtub there.

He looked back at her, feeling strangely flustered. He didn't feel he was a particularly cold person before, but he had never once felt the need to take care of someone as much as he was suddenly feeling. The strange realization that he didn't even know how, or where his boundaries even were with her.

...would she even want him to?

Tristan looked at the door again when all those thoughts were becoming too much. Maybe he should just start with what he could control. He unlocked the door and released the heavy metal handle.

And immediately... he knew something was wrong. His wolf's senses weren't what they should be. He should have recognized it sooner...

He heard no one outside. Tristan quickly closed the door behind him as he leapt up the steps. He felt his heart speed up when he smelled fresh blood, some Lykaia and some Moro, but not his sister. Even more of it was on the breeze. Tristan could hear border guards running hard nearby.