4

“Washing clothes,” I answered, because the truth was already humiliating enough and I had no better lie.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “In that?”

Heat rose to my face. I gripped the basin and tried to stand, but Dominic reached for it before I could move away. I held on by instinct, even though there was nothing in it but dirty fabric and river water. For one ridiculous second, I fought the Alpha’s son for the only clothes I owned.

Of course, I lost.

He pulled the basin from my hands with almost no effort, and the force sent me backward. I fell hard onto the stones, pain shooting up my spine and through my palms. Before I could recover, a gust of wind swept across the riverbank and blew my hair away from my face.

Dominic went still.

My whole body turned cold.

No. No. No.

I raised my hand to cover my face, but it was already too late. His eyes were fixed on mine, and the silence between us changed so sharply that I could barely breathe.

He had seen them.

I tried to scramble back, but Dominic crouched in front of me and caught my wrist. He did not hurt me this time, not really, but his grip was firm enough to keep me there. When I tried to hide behind my hair again, his other hand moved toward my face and brushed the strands aside.

“Don’t,” I whispered.

He ignored me.

For a long moment, he only stared. His golden-brown eyes searched mine with an expression I did not know how to read. It was not the disgust I was used to, not exactly, and that frightened me more than if he had laughed. He looked almost confused, as if he had found something where he had expected nothing.

He was too close. 

I could smell ebony and cedar on his skin, and the warmth of him made the cold river air feel sharper around us. His fingers touched my cheek, then moved lower in a slow, careful path that made my heart beat so hard I hated myself for noticing it.

“Stop,” I said, pushing against his chest with my left hand.

That seemed to bring him back.

Dominic pulled away as if the closeness had offended him. The strange look disappeared from his face, and when he stood, he tossed the basin beside me with the same careless coldness he always wore.

“You treat trash like treasure,” he said, looking from the wet clothes to my pajamas. “And don’t come out dressed like that again. No one wants to see your dried-up body.”

The shame struck almost as hard as the fear. I grabbed the basin, gathered the clothes against my chest, and ran before he could say anything else.

I did not stop until I reached the basement. Only then did I press my back against the door and try to breathe through the panic tightening my chest.

Dominic had seen my eyes!

The green eyes I had inherited from my grandmother. The eyes my mother had made me hide since I was a child.

“Always hide them, Melany,” she used to say, brushing my hair over my face with trembling fingers. “No matter what happens.”

She had died before she could tell me why.

Now Dominic had seen enough to wonder, and in Black Moon, curiosity could be as dangerous as hatred. If he told anyone, if even one whisper spread through the pack house, I knew exactly what would happen.

I would not survive it.

The clothes in the basin were still wet when I touched them. I had no time to wait for them to dry, and no other clothes clean enough to wear without being punished for it. So I changed in the dark basement, pulling the damp fabric over my bruised body while cold water seeped into my skin. It clung to me in the worst places, heavy and uncomfortable, but it was still better than walking into the kitchen covered in grease and blood.

I hid my eyes again beneath my hair, took one last breath, and left for the kitchen.

Every step felt longer than it should have. I kept my ears open as I passed through the halls, waiting for someone to whisper about green eyes, witch blood, or my grandmother’s curse. 

A maid pushed my shoulder when I came too close. One boy laughed and called me a drowned rat. Someone else told me not to drip water on the floor.

It was cruel, but it was ordinary.

For once, ordinary felt almost like mercy.

Maybe Dominic had not told anyone. Maybe he had not understood what he had seen. Or maybe, because he was Dominic, he simply did not care enough to mention it. 

When I entered the kitchen, the maids had already left most of the work for me. Pots were stacked near the sink, flour covered the counter, and the breakfast trays still needed to be prepared. They sat together near the side table, eating and talking as if I were part of the furniture. 

I worked with my head down, cutting, stirring, washing, carrying. The damp clothes made me colder each time I moved, and my broken hand throbbed beneath the splint, but I forced myself to continue. If I stopped, they would notice. If they noticed, they would find a reason to hurt me.

By the time the breakfast mess was almost cleared, the room had begun to tilt around me.

I gripped the edge of the table and blinked hard. The plates blurred, then doubled. My stomach twisted with the empty, familiar pain of hunger, and a cold sweat broke out along my neck. This happened sometimes when I had gone too long without food or rest. Usually, if I stayed still for a moment, the darkness at the edge of my vision would pull back.

This time, I did not get that moment.

“I saw you slacking off as soon as I walked in.” Victoria’s voice cut through the kitchen.

My fingers tightened around the table.

“No shame in being lazy too, I see.” She came closer, her perfume reaching me before her hand did. “Do you think you can stand here doing nothing while everyone else works?”

“I was not...”

The slap landed before I finished.

My head turned with the force of it. Pain flashed across my cheek, and my grip slipped from the table. For one terrible second, I saw the sharp corner rushing toward me and knew I would hit it before I could catch myself.

Then an arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me back.

I fell against a warm chest instead of the table.

The scent reached me first.

Ebony and cedar.

Dominic held me tightly enough that I could feel the strength in his arm, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. I did not understand why he was there, why he had caught me, or why his hand had not pushed me away as if touching me disgusted him.

Victoria did not understand either.

Her pretty face twisted the moment she saw me in his arms. Jealousy changed her expression so quickly that all her beauty seemed sharp at the edges.

“Dominic,” she said, her voice no longer sweet. “Why are you helping her?”