She Belongs To No One

Seraphina's POV

I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, pausing as I see a bit of blood on it.

I frown. I must look worse now, what, with my hair needing a rake and my clothes stained with blood and in tatters. And to think I was judging Damon on appearances earlier. Talk about the teapot calling the kettle black.

He sits on the couch beside me. "So, you are saying you could never read anyone's mind before?"

I glance at him. "Now, someone is interested?"

"Just curious."

I sit back. "No. Like I said, it must be because of my injury." I tap my head.

"Speaking of your injury, I should check on that." He moves closer.

"What?" I sit up, waving my hands. "No, I am fine. You do not..."

His eyebrows crease.

"You are thinking I am being a pain in the ass again, are not you?"

He snorts. "For someone who has never done this before, you are learning fast."

I chuckle. "Finally, a compliment."

"That was not..."

"Fine." I move closer to him, closing the gap between us. "Do what you have to do."

I sit still, gazing into the fire across from me as he unwraps the bandages. The strip of gauze starts to fall into a pile on my lap.

I take the end between my fingers. "Thank you, by the way, for saving me."

"You needed help. I could not ignore that."

I tap my fingers on my knee. "Are you a doctor, by the way?"

"No. But I know first aid."

I frown. "Not to insult your first aid skills or anything, but did not you think I needed a doctor when you found me? Did not it occur to you to bring me to the nearest hospital?"

"The nearest hospital is nearly a hundred miles away," he says, still unraveling the gauze. "I was going to bring you to the hospital as soon as the weather improved if..."

The end of the gauze drops at the same time Damon's jaw does.

My heart stills. "Damon?"

"Have you ever had a head injury before?"

"No."

"A serious injury?"

"Not really. Just some scrapes. Why?"

He does not answer. I get up and head toward the window, examining my reflection in the glass pane as I put my hand on the side of my head, my fingers rubbing against my scalp, which is no longer throbbing in pain.

No bump. No cut.

Strange. I was sure something had hit my head hard.

I take the bandage off my arm, gasping as I find the skin smooth where a gash should have been.

What the hell?

I turn to Damon, eyes wide. "What have you done to me?"

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Damon's POV

"I DID NOT DO ANYTHING to you, Seraphina," I say this in front of the locked door to the spare bedroom. I have been saying it for a while now and it is getting old.

As before, all I get are sobs, her thoughts too muddled for me to read.

My fists clench. I have no idea what to do with a crying female. I do know enough to realize that while tearing the door down might solve the problem, it probably will not. I do not need that kind of drama.

Finally, I give up. "If you do not believe me, there is nothing I can do." I shrug and walk away. Let her deal. She obviously does not want my help.

I get out of the cabin, ignoring the wind that has started to swirl around me and the snow that is up around my knees as I run to the woods. There, I scoop a ball of snow and hurl it against a tree, the white sphere splattering into countless tiny puddles.

Well, fuck.

I do not know why the hell Seraphina will not believe me. Okay, so she does not know me. That should soothe my battered ego some, only it does not. My word is sacred, and to not be accepted as such leaves a raw and bitter taste in my mouth. Hell, even if I had wanted to do something to her, I could not. Primals are bred. Not made.

Leaning against a tree trunk, I glare up at the gray sky, resenting the clouds, resenting the weather that brought her here. I never asked for company.

She is not a Primal. At least, she does not smell like one. In fact, she does not smell like anything I have ever known. She is a unique potpourri. There are some familiar notes, though, that acidic, slightly salty odor that is distinctly human, the scent of flowers, mint, smoke, dog fur.

And in that brief moment before we spoke, the scent of desire.

The mere memory of it lights a fire in my veins, especially those in my crotch.

Desire.

The females of my kind are not gifted with it. Only the alpha male is. If he wants a mate, he takes her and she submits. No questions asked. She does it out of duty, not because she wants to. She just takes, not gives.

And yet, that scent off Seraphina has made me think of all the things she can give me and of all the pleasure I can give her. Nothing has ever been more arousing.

I sink into the snow, willing the icy pile to douse the prickling heat in my body. I gather some of it in both my hands as well, washing my face in it and running my hands through my hair.

I want to take her, but I cannot. I do not even know what she is. She can read my mind and I can read hers as if we were part of the same pack, of the same breed, and yet, she clearly feels no urge to submit to me as she would if she was of my pack. Quite the opposite. She defies me. In addition, she heals faster than I ever have and yet, she has no knowledge of that kind of healing until now.

She does not know what she is. And neither do I.

Worse, she thinks I am responsible for what she is, when all I ever did was save her life.

A pain in the ass, all right.

I turn around, burying my fist into a tree.

It is not enough to vent out my frustration, though, or the helplessness that I am feeling for the first time in my life. Only one thing will.

Taking my pants off and then tossing them over a branch, I crouch on all fours and suck in a deep breath. Then I start running, the wind whipping my hair back as my feet rise and fall off the snow without a sound.

I can only hope that when I return, Seraphina will have come to her senses.