My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

"That's right, you're mortal," Lucas answered her dreamy expression, trying to jolt her back to reality. "That doesn't mean you get to make a huge bloody mess proving it yourself."

Her smile fell down as she came out of whatever state she had been in and realized that Lucas was applying pressure to the wound on her wrist and the bleeding had stopped.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I can do it," she placed her fingers over his, but he didn't let go. Instead he looked at her with his eyebrows raised, clearly doubting her words.

"I'll get it cleaned up for you," he sighed and removed the gauze pads to replace them with a new, clean stack. Then he wound a bandage around to keep it in place before turning on the water and focusing on cleaning the blood from her hand.

She swallowed, watching him work, feeling like a child again as he cleaned and dried it. The bandage was too tight, but she dared not say anything. He glanced at her uncomfortable, uncertain expression and how she was focused on the wrap, so he peeled it off and readjusted it back into place where it wasn't as tight.

"Thank you," she said softly, avoiding his eyes. "I have to go to the bathroom."

"Don't hurt yourself," he replied in a stern, reprimanding tone she hadn't heard from him before.

"I'm—I'm not," she frowned. "I have to pee."

A smile pulled at Lucas' lips. He cleared his throat to mask the chuckle that was forming and turned, pulling the rolling liquids along further back into the room to give her privacy. Did she pee as a vampire, too? Or was he going to find her mesmerized by that as well?

In the bathroom mirror, the girl finally saw the visual evidence of what Andreas had done to her. It was not pretty. She grimaced at herself and shuddered with the memory of him clamped onto her. Now she had his marks on her face as a reminder.

"What do you think about Angelica?" Lucas called from where he was seated at the table eating in the other room.

There were soul cakes downstairs that a bunch of the guards had made the previous night. He grabbed those, some breakfast sausage and juice. It wasn't a five star meal by any means, but it made a pretty decent breakfast. And he was starving.

He heard the water running before she finally came out of the bathroom, looking at him warily.

"Angelica?" she asked, clearly unamused. "You are joking."

He chuckled and continued eating. "Come sit down. Eat something. It will help you heal."

She slowly walked to the table and examined what he had brought. The smell of the meat and spiced cakes brought her stomach to life, and she was surprised to find that she was actually hungry. She reluctantly sat down.

"What are these?" she asked, pointing to the small pastries that were of the traditional recipe, each with a large crescent moon indented in its surface.

"They are called soul cakes. You've never had one?" he asked, and she shook her head. "They are traditional Samhain cakes that are made to honor those who have passed on. Each family usually makes them the night before, but these were made here in the pack house by the guards."

"Why?" she asked simply.

"Why do we make them?"

She nodded.

He thought about it and shrugged. "It's tradition."

This made her chuckle. "You don't know why it began as a tradition?"

"Does there need to be a deeper answer for it? Tradition isn't enough?" he smiled at how he was able to at least get her to laugh, if only briefly. "Try one."

"But I haven't lost anyone," she replied, sitting on her hands as she looked at the food.

"You lost your pack when you were taken," he pointed out.

"I wasn't taken. I was given," she shook her head, stressing the last word. "There's a huge difference. I never had anyone there to lose either."

"I know one person you lost, Zoe," and he saw her frown at the name.

"Who?"

"Yourself." He put a soul cake on a plate and slid it to her. "Want some juice?"

"Sure," she picked up the cake and turned it back and forth in her hand.

"Are you going to eat it or study it?"

She didn't answer. "You must have been hungry," she grumbled as she watched him shoving food into his mouth.

"I was. When was the last time we ate? I don't even remember," he replied between bites.

Something warmed in her chest at the word that he used. 'We.' But she shook it off, not wanting to get her hopes up that this might actually be one friend she had. Her team and everyone else here that knew her knew her as Zoe or Zosime—the research leader, the team leader, the one who they reported to. It was unlikely that any of them actually regarded her as a friend since she was so removed from regular emotions anyway.

She took a bite of the small cake. It was different than what she expected. It tasted like a scone.

"Do you like it?" Lucas asked, pausing his own eating to get her reaction.

"Mhmm. It's good," she hummed her approval.

"So you're not crazy about Angelica?" he asked.

She almost spit out the bite she had taken and had to raise her hand to cover her mouth. "Are you serious?" the question was muffled against her palm.

"Is the name that bad?" he chuckled. "I think it's nice."

"Oh no, you're right. It's nice. It's beautiful. It just doesn't suit me, Lucas," she rolled her eyes and finished eating her cake.

"Want another soul cake?" he put another on her plate along with some sausage.

"Thanks," she said softly.

Lucas watched her continue eating, offering more names to lift her spirits. It was a relief that the old Zoe was free, but this melancholy that had settled around her needed to go.

"How about Heaven?" he suggested.

"Pfff. Are you trying to make me spit my food out?" she laughed.

"Miracle?"

"No."

"Precious?"

"Ugh."

"Beauty?"

"People name their kids that? Isn't it more of a horses' name?" she smirked. "Besides, look at this face."

"Eh," he shrugged. "You'll heal, kid."

"I'll heal with some ugly scars," she replied. "And who are you calling kid?"

"Scars are beautiful," he said, and she chuckled again thinking it was another joke, but he wasn't laughing.

"You think scars are beautiful? Lycans don't have them," she scoffed.

"Precisely. They're unusual. And they tell a story about where you've been, what you've overcome, and what you've survived" he said thoughtfully. "They are kind of precious in that way."

As he said this, his eyes became distant before they finally refocused on her face. He had scars, too. It was just that they weren't the kind that could be seen.

"And I'm calling you kid because..." a grin spread over his face, "have you looked in the mirror? You are one."

"I'm not a kid," she scoffed, thinking of all the years she had been frozen as Zoe.

"Do you feel like you're in your 60s?" he asked, curious. She didn't act like she was.

"No," she chuckled. "Maybe I'm somewhere in the middle, which would still make me older than you."

"Nah. I think you're still fourteen. And now you have a second chance at life."

She shook her head. "Why would I get second chance?"

"Because you never really had a first chance. It was taken from you."

She looked at him now, really looked at him. He surprised her. Why did he even care to have this conversation with her when he could be doing literally anything else?

Lucas met her eyes and cleared his throat, a small chuckle coming to pass on his lips.

"Destiny?" he offered, changing the subject.

The name broke her from her train of thought, and she chuckled. "Absolutely not."

"Chance?" he smiled.

"Ugh," she groaned, "Just stop."