Waking up in a cold sweat and screaming for her life the last few mornings didn’t make matters any less dramatic. Klaya had withdrawn and kept to herself. She hated how vulnerable she had become, and despised the fact she didn’t mind the guys’ unconditional support and attention through it all. For her to be held by the wolves when she tremored held a bitter sweetness she didn’t allow herself to overindulge in. The moment she became fully conscious and aware, she scampered off to the water to regain her composure. Rogue and Seth had been sweet and accommodating. They supported her willingly, and backed off when she was resistant to it. Fending for herself in the woods earlier in the day hadn’t let off the tension she had hoped for, in part because her protectors trailed her from a distance, but more so, because the freedom was overcast by the looming danger of the armed assassins returning. Mere days had dragged by but seemed like weeks. The last thing she could handle was the cabin fever, or, as circumstances would have it, cave fever that had set in.
