Twenty Five.

Willow

“Don’t be stupid. I can't heal.”

“Get up.” He climbs off of me and holds a hand out expectantly. Clutching the sports bra to my chest. I stand up. There was no dull ache or random spasms rippling down my spine.

I move to the mirror, trying to see the wound on my back, but there is nothing. Reaching around to wipe it, the stuff used for the stitches comes away in my hands.

“How?” I look over to his dark eyes observing me. “How?”

“It’s suggested that mates have the ability to help each other heal.”

I snort. “If that’s the case, why haven’t I healed until now?”

His brows knit together. “My guess is, it’s because you now believe what I’m telling you, little wolf. Your feelings for me are changing and you are starting to accept that we are connected.”

“Right.” I move into the closet and grab the nearest top to pull on. A black shirt that swamped my body and smelled like him. Oak and Maple. Everyone had a scent but his was different. A scent that brought me the same amount of comfort