Earlier, when Ronan returned to the house, the she-wolf's heat scent was the first thing to embrace him.
Cursing under his breath, he stormed his way into the kitchen to sift through his inventory. It wasn't unusual for him to encounter injured shifters in his territory.
While they healed faster than humans, there was much more that could be done to accelerate the healing process.
Suppressing an omega's heat was one such way.
The heat diverted energy from focusing on natural healing. And considering Vivian's fragile state, three excruciating days in heat might have been enough to bring about her demise.
Ronan wasn't prepared to give up on her just yet.
As ill-bearing as his opinion was of the Moonborn Pack and as much as he was conflicted between his abhorrence for those wolves and his longing for his mate, he wouldn't dispose of Vivian so soon.
Not without knowing what he really wanted to do with her without any influence from his Lycan half.
And although Vivian had drunk the tea readily enough, her reaction warned Ronan that she expected him to take advantage of her vulnerable, aroused state.
Clearly, the she-wolf didn't have a high opinion of Lycans. Or Alphas.
Ronan returned to the room with some food. The she-wolf appeared more comfortable now, in a light sleep. She woke as he crossed the threshold of the room, sitting up with a sleepy groan.
Since he didn't have any clothes suitable for her on hand for the moment, he'd given her one of his black t-shirts to wear. It was oversized for her petite form, settling right over her thighs.
Vivian didn't seem to mind; in fact, she readily accepted the t-shirt; perhaps she sought comfort in the Lycan's strong scent lingering on the soft material.
"Here," Ronan said, handing her the plate of food.
Vivian didn't hesitate to partake in the food, taking quick bites from the sandwich now that she could muster up a better appetite than before.
However, one sharp look from Ronan had her slowing down. Her lips pressed together in almost a childish pout; maybe it was a subconscious reaction to being scolded, but it was rather...heartwarming to witness from the Lycan's end.
Cute little wolf.
Ronan thought as he observed her curiously.
"What's your name?" Ronan's expression softened at her innocent behaviour, his lips curling into a half-smile. It was the first time since he'd found her that he felt there was undoubtedly some hope for her survival.
The she-wolf chewed and swallowed before sweetly mumbling a response, "Vivian."
"Vivian," Ronan repeated, testing the sound of her name. Not a name he'd heard before across these lands, but he reckoned the meaning behind her name was a cruel contradiction to her dying state. "You're from Moonborn Pack?"
Vivian nodded. Her lips parted as if to ask Ronan a question, flushing and shutting it before a word escaped.
The Lycan could guess what she might ask.
"My name is Ronan," the Lycan replied, folding his arms across his chest as he focused his attention on her. And then a devilish smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth when he answered, "Ronan Wolfsbane."
Vivian's pretty emerald eyes seemed to widen a bit, a mix of fear and surprise.
"Wolfsbane?" She tilted her head to the side. "Isn't that...a little...strange for a Lycan's last name?" She asked curiously, choosing her words carefully.
Good. She was conversing back now rather than being fearfully quiet.
"Perhaps it is," Ronan remarked teasingly, leaning back on the wooden chair he was seated on. He rested his chin on a fist, his smirk never settling down for a second. "But that is the name you earn when too many inquisitive wolves wander into your territory."
Vivian didn't quite understand the Lycan's explanation, but she didn't press further on the topic.
What exactly did the Lycan Alpha do to wolves who trespassed into his territory?
"The river you crossed is the southern border of my territory, ShadowFall," Ronan added when it seemed like Vivian wasn't likely to get another word out.
"How do you feel?" Ronan asked after another few minutes of silence passed between them.
"Better," Vivian answered between mouthfuls. "Will the pain come back again?"
Ronan could see the unmasked hope in Vivian's eyes. As much as he wasn't cruel enough to be blunt with her, there was no use in lying to the she-wolf.
"Yes. As long as those marks remain on your body, the pain will return."
Vivian's expression fell, and she sank down on the bed.
"What will happen to me?"
"I don't have a lot of experience with magic such as this," Ronan sighed, shifting in the chair before continuing, "I suspect, eventually, the medicine I'm using will stop working, the magic will wear away your shifter power, and you'll grow weaker." He omitted the inevitable death part; the she-wolf could figure that out for herself easily enough.
Vivian's eyes dulled. She didn't appear all that surprised at Ronan's summary. She very well knew that it was only a matter of time before death came knocking at her door.
"I can't go back," Vivian whispered, her small hands grabbing fistfuls of the t-shirt she wore, and it occurred to Ronan that he misunderstood the question.
Vivian wasn't questioning her impending doomed fate, but rather what would happen to her for the rest of her final days until that time arrived.
"My pack, they offered me mercy. I wasn't ready," Vivian admitted, huddling her knees to her chest.
Ronan answered the unasked question, "You'll stay here for now." His answer was vague because he didn't want to encourage futile hope.
Although he didn't give up hope on her, he didn't want to raise her desperation for survival.
Witches didn't survive shifter bites, and shifters were fortunate enough to survive a little longer if Wickan magic was inscribed onto their bodies.
It was out of his control.
Years of yearning for his mate, and now death would come for her soon.
Fate truly favoured Ronan so very much. If he didn't know any better, he'd proclaim himself fate's favourite child.
On the other hand, Vivian's expression brightened a little with surprise and relief hearing his answer.
At least now, she wouldn't have to be worried to death about being flung back across the river.