An ear-grating chanting filled Vivian's ears, drilling into her head, but the words were unrecognisable.

It was a language she'd never heard before.

The smell of burning flesh filled her nose and mouth, choking her as pain etched its way across her skin.

The chanting echoed in her mind, and she couldn't block it out, but gradually another sound could be heard and the chanting faded.

Distantly, Vivian realised the sound was coming from her.

She was screaming.

Something cold and damp falling on her face was the first disturbance to wake her up. Blinking her eyes open, she saw dull green and the grey shades of the skies above her.

There was a moment—a second of peace—before a sharp pain hit her, and she cried out. The seconds crawled by uncounted until finally the agony ebbed and she was able to look, really look, at her own body.

She was utterly naked.

Her once unblemished, and creamy fair skin was now engraved with symbols.

They burned.

As if someone were igniting fire across her body while the acrid smell of smoke and magic lingered around her.

Tracing one of the brands with her finger, Vivian could feel the heat radiating from it. Touching them only worsened the pain, and she hissed, her hand recoiling from her own body. And thus, another wave of agony washed over her, drawing a cry from her mouth.

Vivian's body felt like a battleground, her shifter side trying in vain to heal the marks engraved onto her while the magic within the symbols, Wickan magic, fought against her. It was a losing battle because Shifter, and Wickan magics were like oil and water.

They didn't mix.

Forcing herself to her feet as every nerve and fibre of her being felt like it was set alight, Vivian peered at the trees around her. They'd returned her to her territory, which meant she wasn't too far off from home.

Stumbling forward, Vivian picked up the tattered shawl that belonged to her to cover herself as modestly as she could.

She was headed towards her Pack. Towards safety.

She ambled her way into dark but familiar surroundings. It was the training house where the newly bitten wolves of her Pack were placed while they acclimated. Hence, it was of little surprise that the room was securely shut and bolted from the outside.

It prevented overpowered, out of control, new wolves from escaping during their first few changes.

They hadn't had a new wolf in years.

The house stood sturdy and abandoned because the pack knew very well they'd need it again someday. 

However, Vivian had never thought it would be for her.

Screeching cries sounded from her when the burning of the symbols on her body ignited again. It seemed to ebb and rise, allowing Vivian brief respites from the agony.

Rocking back and forward, she tried to divert her attention from the pain, trying to distract herself from feeling, but her efforts were in vain.

When it finally peaked and began to taper off, she called out.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Please." Her hoarse voice choked from desperation with every word. "I need… I need help."

Vivian listened attentively, as best she could, over the ministrations of her agony, but she neither heard a whisper, a footstep, nor a heartbeat.

They had found her and thrown her in here mercilessly.

They abandoned her yet again.

Vivian knew who was responsible for her suffering.

Estwood Coven.

Two weeks prior to Vivian's current state, her brother Vince had bitten Alexa, the daughter of Estwood Coven's leader, Alessandro.

The particulars had been glossed over, but Victor, their pack Alpha, and Vivian's father had firmly refused Alessandro's request for Pack Justice.

Wickan and lycanthrope magic were dangerously incompatible. From what they'd heard, Estwood Coven had gone to great extents to save Alexa, but she died an agonising and torturous death.

The lycanthropic magic from Vince's bite sowed chaos into her Wickan veins, resulting in a clash of magic that eventually dried out her body and ceased every organ's functioning.

Why? Why had Vince done this to Alexa? When asked, he'd simply grinned and arrogantly replied, "To watch that Wickan bitch writhe."

But when Victor denied Estwood Coven retribution through his pack, it wasn't Vince they'd taken, it was Vivian.

And, for a moment, when Alessandro, the Estwood Coven leader, revealed to Vivian what he was about to do with her, he'd been almost apologetic. He realised he was forcing Vivian to suffer the sins of her older brother and father.

Vivian believed the truth was far more complex than that.

Alessandro was, after all, a despicable coward.

If Alessandro had taken Vince, an Alpha and potential successor to his father, Victor wouldn't have hesitated to launch a full-scale war on Estwood Coven.

For Vivian, she'd be fortunate if her father even showed concern for her disappearance or even sent someone to look for her.

When the sound of footsteps finally approached, the door unbolted and was thrown open, it was her father who stood there, at the threshold.

"Vivian," her father uttered her name with evident disdain, his old hazel eyes cold and sharp.

"Father, help me. Please," Vivian begged, her voice a needy cry to be unshackled from her pain.

"You've been marked," Victor said sternly, ignoring his daughter's pleas.

"I know," Vivian mumbled apologetically. "I tried to fight them, to get away. It burns terribly. Please, Father."

"Our healer has examined you," Victor replied curtly, his hands clasped behind his back as he didn't even bother to offer his arms to comfort his daughter. "He says there's nothing that can be done. Pain relief would wear off in a matter of minutes."

"It still burns just as strongly as when they were burning my skin," Vivian said, desperately fighting to keep still and stop her body from trembling.

"It would have been better if they killed you," Victor remarked unremorsefully, his words cutting deeper than the burns on his daughter's body.

"I'm sorry." What else could Vivian say?

"You've been one disappointment after another. I should have cast you out after Dane returned you, but I still had hope that you could fulfil your duty as my Omega daughter. I gave you every chance, and you failed. And now…"

"I'll do better, Father, please. I'll try harder." Vivian hung her head low in shameful promise, praying fervently that her father would forgive her for her shortcomings.

The pain began to surface again, and Vivian curled her body up, clenching her weak fists to endure and bury the pain. It wouldn't end well for her to display weakness now in front of her father.

But the agony was excruciatingly more than she could handle, and she sobbed softly, muffling the sounds with a hand across her mouth.

Looking up, she caught the expression of horror and contempt on her father's face. Then the Alpha stepped back without a word, and the door slammed shut, the bolt sliding in place.

As soon as Victor left, Vivian allowed herself to slump down to the floor, submitting to the pain that troubled her without restraint.

The torture seemed never-ending.

Would they even help her?

Suddenly, a soft voice called out to her.

"Vivian?"

The voice got more insistent.

"Vivian!"

Blinking her eyes open, she found her niece Avery standing by the door. She was staring at Vivian, her eyes wide with worry and subtle anger.

"Vivian, please; you need to wake up. They're coming."

Vivian's attention was immediately captured, and she struggled to sit up, hugging her shawl tighter around her body.

"Who's coming, Avery?"

Her niece was eleven and had perfected the sneaky art of listening when adults were convinced she wasn't.

"The pack," Avery replied with a gulp. "They had a meeting about you."

"What did they say?" Vivian asked with a voice full of hope.

"That they would offer you pack mercy," Avery revealed, her expression tensing. "It's the only thing they can do."

Pack mercy. They were going to kill her.

...

At a distant part in the back of her mind, Vivian had known she was foolish to have any hope of mercy from her pack that wouldn't end with her death.

"You have to get up, Vivian," Avery said with urgency again, snapping her aunt out of her despairing thoughts. "They're coming. You have to run."

Vivian wasn't certain she could muster the energy for a successful escape but she knew her niece was right. There was little chance she would manage to outrun the pack as it was and none at all if she was in her human skin.

"Run ahead, Avi," Vivian told her niece, a sad smile on her face marked with burning symbols. "Make sure all the doors are open for me."

Slipping to her knees, Vivian summoned every ounce of her dying strength to force herself through the change. The second she shifted into her wolf skin, she knew she'd made a terrible mistake.

The pain, which had been a dull roar moments ago, flared to life within her, and she howled.

Half out of her mind, Vivian sprinted from the room towards Avery, where she stood holding open the door to the outside. Vivian didn't stop, racing past her niece.

"Run, Vivian," Avery called out after her. "Run faster, please!"

Vivian dashed through the trees, hearing shouts and rousing howls behind her.

The pack knew she was fleeing. They were giving chase.

There was only one place Vivian could seek sanctuary that she knew the pack wouldn't dare to follow. 

It would probably get her killed, but what else did she have to lose?

The relentless pain urged her to spur onwards, as did the fear of what the pack would do to her once they recaptured her.

Her father had never been kind in life, nor did he have a single merciful bone in his body. Why would he show kindness and mercy in death?

They were gaining on her; she could hear them; the sounds of their hunting howls and their paws thumping on the ground grew louder as the minutes passed.

Alongside her through the trees, she recognised the silhouette of a smaller wolf sprinting ahead faster than her own legs could carry her.

'Avery…' Vivian scented her niece on the run. Although she was forever grateful for Avery's support and help, her mind reeled from the unthinkable consequences that would befall her niece if the pack discovered she was an accomplice in her aunt's escape.

However, if Vivian trailed off her track right now, she would undoubtedly land Avery in trouble. Her niece was trying to divert most of the pack's attention to another path, buying enough enough time for her aunt to gain speed.

'Thank you, Avi.' Vivian thanked mentally, dashing faster than before through the trees. 'I'm sorry...' She had wished she said those words earlier to her niece, painfully aware that she might never see Avery again.

Vivian caught the scent of water ahead, and she almost breathed in relief, knowing she was closing in on her destination.

When she caught sight of the river through the trees, she increased her pace, snarling through the pain and barely noticing when she left the tree line.

Thanks to Avery's little diversion, she was able to put some distance between herself and the pack, but that would only last for so long.

Hitting the water with a splash, Vivian didn't stop despite the biting cold of the water gnawing on her limbs. The cold forced a weak howl from her throat as she waded her way through the fast-running water.

It deepened in the center as soon as she swam, barely keeping her head above the water. The cold did nothing to alleviate the burn beyond providing a distraction and sapping away her strength.

It was a relief when Vivian's wet paws touched the ground again, and she struggled on.

A series of sharp barks drew her gaze back across the river. Her father, her brothers, and many others were standing on the bank. Her eldest brother waded a few feet into the water, but another sharp bark from their father restrained him from treading further.

Moonborn Pack never crossed the river. Ever.

That was the territory of cursed Lycans.

To do so would get you killed in a heartbeat, as it had done many before them.

But Vivian was left with little choice and had nowhere else to seek shelter. If death was to be her fate, did it matter at whose hand?

Yes, it did, or else she would not have fled to be killed by something or someone other than her family.

The pack remained watchful on the bank. She knew they would keep an eye, for days if necessary, to ensure she didn't return across the river.

Vivian turned her back to them and caught her reflection in the river. Where she once donned a coat of white fur she was proud of, it was now marred by charred, blackened patches.

Closing her eyes, Vivian raised her head and howled mournfully at the sky. A group of reciprocating howls answered her from across the river. She ignored them with a disdainful growl and continued on, climbing onto the bank and limping away into the forest.

She could never return.

As soon as Vivian was out of sight and certain her pack wasn't going to give pursuit, she sluggishly shifted back into her human skin.

There was an instant easing of her pain, and she listlessly sank to the ground, leaning against the trunk of a tree.

The rough bark scraped her wounds, and she hissed through her teeth.

The worst of it all was behind her. Whatever came after would either be mercy that allowed her to live or a swift death for trespassing into this land her pack never dared to set paw or foot on.

Vivian had only one hope that might allow her to escape with her life: that the cursed Lycans who owned this territory might be far away in the North.

...

Ronan stood atop the hill, scrutinising the land beneath him with undisguised contempt.

He despised this part of the year in ShadowFall.

There were far too many unsightly memories laid bare here in the South. He'd been alive and young when the massacres occurred, and he still shouldered that pain several years later, as his father had, as his brothers did, as their sons would.

Only another three miserable weeks and he could return North.

The wolves of Moonborn Pack were uneasy this past week; more howls, more movement.

Ronan wondered at their disquiet but didn't devote much time to their restlessness. They were practically savages, their distasteful dealings more like hyena than wolf.

If dark times had befallen them, they had only themselves to blame.

However, the reason for his position standing as sentinel on the hill observing the river that bordered their land was the sudden proximity of a large group of them to his territory.

Ronan wouldn't stand to tolerate any trespassing.

Thus far, there had been no incursions across the border, and if they were, they would not go unpunished.

His keen ears caught the splash of water that informed him there was a crossing, but it was only one that was daring enough, not the multitude of wolves he could hear across the river.

Not an incursion. An exile, perhaps?

That wouldn't do.

If Moonborn Pack desired getting themselves rid of a pack member, they should have done so without disturbing the sanctity of his forest.

Ronan shifted swiftly, his limbs elongating and morphing into a beastly form—one far more creature-like and horrifying than the lesser wolves across the river.

He loped down the hill, his claws rather than paws dug into the soil as he sprinted to intercept the daring intruder.

Never let it be said that his lands were unprotected. He could hear the wolf scrabbling around the forest, faint whimpers and weak howls of…pain? When the shuffling quietened, he stopped.

Releasing a roar that invoked silence across the trees, Ronan charged again.

When he reached the shifter, he loomed above her, standing on two hind legs and roaring again as rage clouded his vision.

The she-wolf didn't even dare to breathe in his presence. She lay there in her human skin, scantly covered by a tattered shawl. She was pale, trembling, and staring up at him with wide emerald eyes.

Ronan readied a claw to swipe at the trespasser, hellbent on sending her scurrying across the river for her pack to deal with when her scent hit him.

And when her scent really hit him, Ronan withdrew his claw and clenched it at his side instead.

There was a snarling threat at the back of his mind that restrained him, his Lycan half whispering a warning that said: 'Do not harm.'

It had been years since his Lycan half uttered a word.

At the same moment, Vivian's eyes rolled back into her head, and her body slumped against the tree behind her.

Ronan's anger seemed to dissipate, and he relaxed, tilting his head to the side as he examined the she-wolf.

Nudging her with the back of his claw, Ronan awaited a reaction but received none.

Underneath the she-wolf's scent was another, like burnt timber and the smell that lingered in the air after a lightning strike.

Magic, imbued with symbols traced across her petite, frail body.

Ronan shifted back into his human skin, regarding the she-wolf all the while.

This wasn't just unexpected. It was unfortunate. The scent, the magic.

What was he supposed to do with this pitiful bundle of skin and bone? 

Her hair was silverish in some parts, while the length of it was as white as snow, draping the length of her back and covering most of her shoulders.

She was so tiny and fragile compared to him; Ronan feared she would break if he touched her.

Nevertheless, he minimised his strength, tucked the shawl as modestly around her body as he could and picked her up. A sudden cry tumbled from Vivian's lips while she writhed in pain but didn't awaken.

Ronan rubbed the burn on her side with one hand, eliciting another helpless whimper as the she-wolf curled her body inward to avoid the touch.

The symbols were active. Not just active...combative, punishing. What had she done to deserve such punishment?

What could this weak, defenceless little wolf have done to earn such suffering?

Turning, his charge held tightly in his arms, Ronan climbed back up the hill towards his home.

Howls emanated from across the river. Ronan didn't think they were daunting enough to return, for they had gone awfully silent when his roar reverberated over his territory.

An arrogant smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he walked up the hill.

If the wolves of Moonborn Pack wanted his charge back, then he'd dare them to come and get her.

It had been a bloody long while since he'd devoured lesser wolves. He reckoned himself he could still muster up the appetite for the lot of them.

Vivian whimpered softly in his arms again, drawing his attention back to her. He watched her white-coloured brows furrow in distress, her nose scrunching as if she were subconsciously scenting him.

Ronan's intense gaze seemed to only darken further, his grip on her body tightening ever so lightly. Any tighter and her frail bones would be crushed under his strength.

"You're barely breathing enough to be alive, but you're still conscious of my presence," Ronan mumbled to himself, amused by the she-wolf's resilience despite her injured state.

The Lycan shook his head a moment later, as if to clear his thoughts and prevent himself from being overly generous with his sympathy for the she-wolf in his arms.

She should never have crossed into his territory.

This was a complication he refused to deal with, one that he didn't want at any cost.

After relinquishing all hope of ever finding her, he had just chanced upon his mate.

...

Vivian awakened with a start, instantly receiving a whiff of the heavy scent of Lycan in the air around her.

The agonising burning was relentless, never dying out for a second, but to her pleasant surprise, she didn't suffer any new injuries.

She hadn't been mauled by a vicious Lycan claw as she anticipated, and there were no new marks across her back.

Neither did it appear that she'd been hauled back across the river to her pack. So where the hell was she?

Everyone knew Lycans were cursed and ruthless. They were infamous for gnawing off the fur coats of lesser wolves and crushing other inferior shifter bodies to bone until nothing was left to be salvaged.

Why had the Lycan spared her?

The last she could put to memory was the towering silhouette of a beast looming over her before fear took control and she fell unconscious.

Vivian forcibly sat up, swallowing an involuntary cry at the pain that even the smallest amount of movement elicited. Lying on a bed covered with fur in a darkened room, she couldn't deduce much of her surroundings.

She felt around her body, realising that her chest and the section from her hips going down were wrapped in bandages. Her tattered shawl smelt fresh and clean, hugging around her petite body.

"Must have been some kind woman…" Vivian assumed, grateful that she'd been taken care of so well. Even her body felt clean and free of the grime and blood from earlier.

The door to the room was closed but swung open a moment later when she stared at it, and a slightly familiar towering silhouette of a man appeared in the doorway.

Tall and strong, his shoulders were broad, and his golden amber eyes that were long slits observed her coldly. His long hair was as black as the onyx night sky, draping over his shoulders and back in unruly curls.

The man practically exuded the symbol of power, and the scent of Lycan hung thicker in the air than before.

Why would he have taken Vivian? What use was an Omega wolf to a higher Lycan other than to be his meal or used for hunting practice?

The Lycan stepped closer, and Vivian panicked, her instincts for self-preservation immediately taking control of her limbs. She recoiled with a fearful gasp when Ronan's dominating scent invaded her nostrils, throwing herself off the bed in an attempt to bolt past the Lycan to the door.

One strong arm easily seized her by the waist and in one swift movement, Ronan spun her around so that her back was to his chest. His arm never left her waist, and his free hand snaked up her throat from behind.

Ronan was much taller than Vivian; the she-wolf only reached the height of the lower region of his chest. Her body stilled, frozen in terror as she was effortlessly recaptured.

Vivian's breathing quickened, her chest heaving as she closed her eyes tightly when Ronan's large, calloused hand slowly crept up her throat.

Was he going to snap her neck or crush her windpipe?

Fighting against Ronan's grip with all her strength did nothing to dislodge the Lycan's arm. Her energy waned as she realised how defenceless she was and just how much she was at the Lycan's mercy.

Vivian's lips trembled, mumbling a silent prayer so that her death may be quick and painless.

She swallowed hard at the Lycan's proximity, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

His cold hand on her throat was a sign of dominance, one that urged her omega nature to acknowledge his Alpha status and comply with whatever came next.

Ronan didn't utter a word. He simply swept her weightless body up into his arms and carried her back over to the bed, laying her down gently into the softness of the furs.

Tears sprung unbidden to Vivian's eyes when the bed dipped from the Lycan's weight settling on it beside her.

She shut her eyes tightly when his hand reached for her again and a sob escaped her throat. She wouldn't fight.

Fighting never got Vivian anywhere with an Alpha.

It always ended the same way.

Ronan murmured his first words to her, his voice sonorous and velvety, "Foolish little wolf. Did you think running would help your case when your body is in this state?"

Vivian unexpectedly eased under the sound of Ronan's voice, her eyes fluttering open again. She flinched ever so slightly when the Lycan casually pulled her onto his lap, his fingers smoothing something wet and heavy across the burn on her upper back.

A strangely soothing smell reached her nose and the pain from the burn eased. The Lycan was already making his skilful way to the next burn, spreading the cooling mixture across her seared skin.

Ronan worked methodically down Vivian's body, covering the burn on the back of her right arm, the one on her inner left thigh, the large one on her bare torso, and the one behind her right ankle.

Vivian shivered at the foreign sensations, her small hand instinctively clutching onto the Lycan's shirt whenever his fingers danced across her burns.

His gaze was intense, subtlety drawing a sense of satisfaction from the way she clung to him now for dear life when just minutes ago she was ready to flee from him.

Ronan brushed her thick, wavy silverish hair away from her neck to apply the mixture over the burns there, and her breath hitched in her throat.

The she-wolf was sure that she was knocking at death's door just moments ago, yet now the Lycan she feared so much was tender and gentle in his actions.

However, his expression was cold and stern, a contradiction to his harmless movements.

Next, Ronan laid her down to sit on the bed again. He cupped the back of her head when he got up from the bed with a murmured 'stay' while he left the room.

Vivian found herself nodding obediently.

She remained seated to avoid letting the mixture on her burns soil the furs, but her head hung low, afraid this was all a fleeting dream her addled mind had produced to escape the reality of her ill fate.

...

Ronan returned to the room not long after, sitting on the edge of the bed beside Vivian. He dressed each of her wounds with strips of damp cloth, carefully watching how the she-wolf winced.

The strips stuck to Vivian's skin, holding the rapidly warming poultice in place. Then, strong hands positioned her to lay on her back. She blinked at the intrusion of light, but before her vision could clear, a strip of cloth covered her eyes, tucked in loosely behind her ears.

Vivian froze again, barely daring to breathe.

Ronan's fingers returned, spreading the poultice across the burn on her forehead. The ever-present searing pain in her head eased a moment later, and she heaved a heavy sob of relief.

"Thank you," Vivian murmured gratefully, tears leaking from her eyes and soaking into the cloth covering them.

A rough thumb wiped the teardrops from each cheek, and then the Lycan straddled her thighs.

But Ronan was being careful, Vivian realised. His weight was supported entirely by his own knees and not on her, and the only places their skin touched were the regions she was unmarked.

He reached to unravel the bandages around her chest but clenched his hand, hesitating.

"I need to... " Ronan's voice trailed off as he made a sound with his throat. It wasn't as if he hadn't already seen Vivian completely naked as he did earlier, but he reminded himself of whatever semblance of manners and common decency was left in him. "I need to apply it on the burn between..."

Vivian immediately understood what Ronan was referring to. But how did the Lycan know about the burn between her breasts? 

Unless…it wasn't a woman who'd taken care of her hygiene and clothes.

With her eyes covered, the she-wolf's pale cheeks warmed a light pink colour as she slowly nodded, reluctantly giving him permission.

Ronan unravelled the bandages concealing her breasts. The she-wolf instinctively covered her breasts with both her hands, slightly parting them so that he had better access to the burn.

Ronan smirked slyly at her shyness. What a naive little wolf! Didn't she know that his eyes already drank their fill of every crevice and inch of her body?

Nevertheless, he allowed her the courtesy of modesty. Two fingers laced with the poultice swept over the burn in the valley between Vivian's breasts.

The Lycan couldn't suppress the undeniable attraction he felt, his jaw shifting impatiently when he realised how helpless and vulnerable Vivian lay beneath him.

Her pinkish plump lips were slightly parted, her eyes covered, leaving her with little sense of her surroundings.

Oh, how ripe she was for feasting, but Ronan berated himself for his primal urges and suppressed his Lycan half.

It wouldn't do well to frighten the little wolf off, as it was the poor thing barely allowed herself to breathe around him

The she-wolf's chest heaved as she felt his fingers slowly moving between her breasts, the sensations were cold and slow. 

Ronan followed with a damp strip of cloth, quickly rewrapping the bandages around her breasts again.

The Lycan finished up with the burns on her legs and then repeated the procedure of laying strips of wet cloth across each one.

By the time Ronan was finished, Vivian's body was cold but sagging with the sweet relief the medicine granted her.

A light sheet was laid across her body before a hand touched her hair.

"Rest," Ronan said, his fingers running through her hair down to the tips before leaving her body. "I'll bring food."

And then the Lycan was gone again.

On the other hand, Ronan couldn't sit back and watch the she-wolf writhe in pain even while unconscious.

It wasn't difficult to gather what he needed to conjure a coarse poultice to cover the burns. It was enough to see the sheer relief on her face at the easing of her pain.

However, there were many questions Ronan didn't have the answers to. Clearly, this was the unholy work of a Wickan, and undoubtedly more than one.

He'd never witnessed Wickan magic used in such a violent and harmful way.

What had the she-wolf done to bring such a punishment upon herself?

"I need to get some clothes and necessities for her," Ronan said to himself, realising that having a woman stay with him meant he was obliged to cater to her needs.

He heated some soup and carried it upstairs with a glass of water.

Vivian seemed to be fast asleep and the lines of distress on her face had eased. She looked younger now. Innocent. Only the black makings beneath the bandages said otherwise.

Reluctant to disturb her slumber, Ronan sat on the edge of the bed and set down the bowl on the nightstand. The clink of the spoon roused Vivian before the smell of the soup shook her awake.

She inhaled, her eyes fluttering open, and went to sit up.

"Hold on, slowly," Ronan uttered in warning, easing Vivian up with one hand under her arm while the other held in place the cloth that covered her eyes. "Your eyes need to be covered so none of the medicine gets into them."

Vivian's head shifted slightly towards him. The light muslin cloth that covered her eyes would mean she was able to visualise Ronan's shape but wouldn't be able to see much more of his features.

Sighing, Ronan picked up the bowl and ladled a portion of the soup onto the spoon.

"Here." Ronan brought the spoon near her lips. "Open up."

Vivian shyly parted her lips, accepting the spoon, and swallowing the mouthful of warm soup on it. Ronan offered her a second, and she received it eagerly, humming a sound of contentment as she swallowed.

Ronan looked away, suppressing a smile from surfacing at her pure reaction. He reminded himself it wouldn't do well to be overly friendly, considering that he knew very little about this little she-wolf trespasser.

He helped Vivian finish the bowl of soup and then urged her to lie back down.

"Rest," Ronan demanded again.

Vivian didn't speak other than to express her gratitude with a simple thank you. She was still intimidated by Ronan's presence and weary from her injuries to utter anything more than that.

She was asleep again before Ronan left the room.