Wild Magic One: By the Light of the Moon-- A Wolf Shifter M/M Romance

6- Misunderstanding

LHIAM

I had never wanted to punch Tate more than I did as I walked into the guest chambers and caught sight of the wolf boy crouching in the corner, so terrified he was hyperventilating. I promised the boy he was safe here, and no sooner was he awake than someone was threatening him.

I was shocked at the boy's reaction to Tate grabbing Lacy. I knew the guard was only worried about her safety— he didn't trust the boy— but the boy didn't seem to think the same way. He leapt forward, growling, his teeth elongating and sharpening as we all stared in shock.

I could almost see what had happened. Lacy, in all her precocious, adventurous glory, had probably gone into the boy's room, woken him, and then talked his ear off. Tate, hearing from her maids or tutors that she had escaped them again, had probably spent most of his morning looking for her, before realizing where she was.

And despite my words of trust for the wolf boy, Tate had automatically assumed the worst. He was a wild animal, a male, left alone with an all-but-defenseless girl.

But if harming her had ever crossed the boy's mind, he didn't show it. He merely glared at me as I shoved both Lacy and Tate out the door, and then turned back to him.

"I promise, that was a misunderstanding. You're still safe here. Please, don't be afraid. We won't hurt you."

The boy scoffed, the voice sounding more human than wolf for the first time since I'd found him, and shuffled back. He grabbed one of the smaller blankets, pulling it over his shoulders as he continued to shake.

"I know you don't believe me right now, but you'll see. I'll earn your trust."

The boy met my eyes again, then gestured to the door behind me. I understood immediately.

"Like I told you before, you can leave anytime," I began, and watched in frustration as the boy almost tripped over himself as he pushed to his feet. "But," I finished, holding my hand up to stop him. "You have a warm bed, and food here. Please, at least eat before you go. We've been waking you to feed you broth, but you were never awake long, and it wasn't enough. If you can get it down, you need real food."

The boy's nod was reluctant, but when it finally came I smiled. I would take his acceptance as a victory, small as it was.

I left for a moment, in search of a servant to bring the boy something to eat, and when I returned, he was by the large window, staring out into the forest behind the keep. I could tell he knew I was there, because his ears burned red and his body tensed as I entered the room. I sat on one of the large armchairs near the fire, hoping he would soon feel comfortable enough to join me. I could see his shoulders shaking slightly, and I knew that the fever he had fought off for the last two days had finally broken, leaving him weak and most likely freezing with lack of sustenance.

"I would like to ask you a few questions, if you would feel comfortable enough for that," I began, keeping my voice low. "You don't have to answer them, but I must admit to some curiosity over you. Once I know a bit more, we can figure out what to do next, as well."

The wolf boy finally looked away from the window, turning to face me. He met my eyes, but his gave little away. For the first time, his eyes were shuttered of any emotion.

The arrival of the servant bearing a tray of broth, meats, cheeses, and tea made him tense and I could see him baring his teeth at the maid, but she paid him little attention. She merely set the tray on the table by the fire, bowed to me, and exited.

I waved my hand at the food. "Please, eat, kid. You need to get your strength up."

The boy— gods I needed to find out his name, because calling him boy was just sad— moved hesitantly to the tray, his eyes never leaving mine. When he reached the tray, he lowered himself to the ground and began to dig in ravenously. I held back my frustration that he had sat on the ground rather than the perfectly comfortable armchair near the table.

"What's your name?" I asked, once he had managed to pack away most of the food and he seemed to be slowing in his eating. He froze and glanced up at me before shrugging.

"Does that mean you don't know, or that you don't care what I call you?" I asked, trying to calm my annoyance. I wanted his trust; I wanted to know everything about him. And he was not cooperating with me at all.

The boy turned fully to me, clutching at his blanket and tilting his head up at me. Not in submission, but in question.

And I finally understood.

"You can't speak...?"

The boy motioned at his neck, flinching when his fingers came in contact with the bandage there. He shrugged and shook his head.

"Alright, that's fine. We can figure out another way to communicate. I know one of the maids here has a sister who can't speak, and they use some sort of hand signals to talk to her. We can ask her to show us those, if you'd like. For now, though, I'd like to figure out a name for you. I'd like to stop thinking of you as 'boy.'"

The boy's eyes widened with indignation and I could almost see the words in his mind.

I'm not a child.

I chuckled, which seemed to only anger him more, which then amused me further. He growled, the sound coming from deep in his chest, as he glared me down.

"Sorry, sorry," I mumbled, rubbing at my mouth to wipe the smile that still lingered there away. "So, a name. We could go with something classic. Like Michael. George. Henry."

The boy's nose wrinkled and he pointed at me. I froze, shame rushing through me. "I never introduced myself?" The boy shook his head and I sighed. "My apologies. That was rude of me, although under the circumstances, I think you can maybe find it in your heart to forgive me. I am Lhiam."

The boy nodded, as if in greeting, and I smiled. "So, Henry. That was my father's name. Do you like it?"

He shook his head, his nose wrinkling again. "This would be much easier if you held up hands to show how much you hate the name. Five fingers for hating it a lot, one finger if you like it. So on that scale, how much do you hate the name Hen—"

"— Edon," the wolf boy mumbled, his eyes meeting mine with determination. His voice was raspy, gravelly, like a rock slide, but it was clear as music.

"Edon," I repeated, unsure how to move forward, or even breathe, with the object that had seemed to lodge itself in my throat. "Your name is Edon?"

Edon nodded, then ducked his head.

"Haven't... spoken. Long time," he murmured, the sound still quiet, unsure. "Wasn't sure... still could."

A stabbing pain dug its way into my chest as I nodded down at him, smiling in a way I hoped was reassuring.

"Were you with that...man for long?" I asked, wanting to call that monster anything but a man. He was less than a man. He was less than an animal. He was a monster, a disgusting breed of human filth.

Edon shrugged, his eyes shuttering. This time with pain, rather than lack of emotion.

"You don't know how long?"

He shook his head in agreement.

"Do you have family you can go back to? Did he take you from family?"

Edon shook his head again, and I couldn't help the stab of agony I felt in my gut when I saw the pain in his eyes. The grief.

I wanted nothing more than to reach forward and grab the small man into my arms. To comfort him, to bring warmth to his freezing limbs, and to never let go. But I knew my touch would be unwelcome. I knew he needed space.

So I would give it to him.

No matter how much it cost me to hold myself back.