Chapter 11
Sniffling, Cinq said,
“But my feet hurt so terribly.”
The wolf glanced down at her feet and jumped in alarm.
“Cinq, where are your shoes? Your feet are hurt!”
The wolf hurriedly removed her coat and lifted her into his arms.
Cinq felt her body go limp like a rag doll as she sobbed.
The wolf carried her to the chair by the hearth and set her down gently before bustling about.
He boiled water, soaked a towel, and wiped her face with it.
Then he brought a basin full of warm water and placed her feet in it.
Cinq sniffled as she watched the water in the basin turn red.
“It stings.”
“Of course it does. Poor thing, how much it must hurt.”
The wolf went to Vinya’s storage and returned with a handful of medicine bottles.
Cinq selected the ointment meant for her wounds.
The wolf returned the remaining bottles to their place, knelt before her, and said,
“Little one, lift your feet for me.”
His gentle words and comforting gestures felt as though they were soothing her wounded heart.
Sniffling softly, Cinq extended one foot at a time.
The wolf carefully dried her small feet with a towel.
Then, pressing a kiss to her pale, soft instep, he murmured,
“Cinq, for a little one as lovely as a fairy and kind as an angel to suffer like this… Someone like me can hardly bear it.”
Cinq wiggled her toes at the sensation of his thick lips and rough beard against her skin and asked,
“What kind of someone is someone like you?”
“Well.”
The wolf began with a playful tone.
“Someone who pursued love on his own terms, rejected every match his parents proposed, ran away from home, became a paladin, spent too long on the battlefield, turned into an old man out there, yet still harbors the heart of a boy hoping for a fateful meeting.”
At his humor, Cinq finally managed to stop crying and let out a small laugh.
“What does that even mean?”
Seeing her smile, the wolf’s lips curled into a faint grin.
“It’s good to see you smile. Now, let’s apply the ointment.”
With care, the wolf spread the ointment onto her wounds, massaging her rosy heels and tender, sensitive spots.
As his rough hands gently caressed her delicate feet, Cinq felt her tension ease.
When his large hands grasped her slender ankle and softly kneaded the tender areas, her toes curled and flexed repeatedly.
A strange feeling welled up within her.
Until now, she had thought of herself as something hard and unyielding, like a stone of the earth.
She believed that no matter what happened to her, no matter how much she was hurt, nothing within her would change.
But now it was different.
She felt like a baby bird inside a thick eggshell, as though something inside her might awaken if the shell were tapped further.
Her chest rose and fell, her breathing shallow and quivering, even though she hadn’t been running.
She felt strange, embarrassed, wanting to pull away from him but also wanting him to keep touching her.
The wolf gazed up at her quietly.
Maintaining eye contact, he kissed each of her tiny toes one by one.
As he moved upward, draping her legs over his shoulders, he growled softly,
“Cinq, have you ever been loved by a man?”
Cinq’s heart thudded loudly.
In this village, she had only ever been the object of lust and mockery from creatures that weren’t human.
She had never been loved by a man.
She shook her head, her expression fearful.
The wolf pressed his bearded cheek against the soft flesh of her inner thigh and said with heartfelt sincerity,
“Could I, a scarred, patchy old beast, be the one to love you?”
Cinq looked down at him silently, then hesitantly reached out with trembling hands to touch his hair.
It was still slightly damp from his earlier bath, thick and curly, filling her hands.
As she stroked his hair and firm forehead, she murmured,
“Lord Wolf, you might be scarred, but your fur isn’t patchy… and you don’t look old or tired at all.”
The wolf chuckled, baring his white teeth.
“Little one, that was a metaphor.”
Not knowing how to respond, she simply smiled faintly.
Then she pulled his face to her chest and pressed her lips to his smooth, solid forehead.
His scent, rich and masculine, filled her nose.
Keeping her trembling lips against his forehead, she whispered,
“Yes, Lord Wolf. Please love me.”
The wolf, as if waiting for her words, stood up and lifted her effortlessly.
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