(Audrey’s POV)
Nathan’s question hung in the air between us. “And if your relationship with Arthur is severed, will you be looking for a new partner? If looking for a new partner, what do you think of me?”
I froze, my mug of tea halfway to my lips, unsure how to respond. The directness of his question caught me completely off guard.
But before I could formulate an answer, Nathan’s serious expression melted into a smile.
“I’m just teasing you,” he said lightly, turning back to finish the last of the dishes. “You should have seen your face.”
I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Very funny,” I muttered, trying to regain my composure.
Nathan dried his hands on a kitchen towel and retrieved the small package he’d brought with him. It was wrapped in simple brown paper, tied with twine.
“This is what I wanted to give you,” he said, his tone shifting to something more earnest. “It’s why I came by tonight.”
I accepted the package, curiosity piqued. “What is it?”
“Open it and see,” he encouraged, taking a seat across from me at the kitchen island.
I carefully untied the twine and peeled back the paper. Inside was a stack of worn leather journals, their pages yellowed with age. On the cover of the topmost journal was a familiar symbol-a snowflake-like design that made my heart skip a beat.
“These are…” My voice trailed off as I gently opened the first journal. Inside, written in a flowing script I somehow recognized despite never having seen it before, were detailed formulations for healing herbs combinations.
At the top of the first page was a heading: “Winter’s Remedy – Primary Formulations.”
“Your parents’ research journals,” Nathan confirmed quietly. “And their formulations for Winter’s Remedy.”
My fingers trembled as I turned the pages. Winter’s Remedy-a specialized healing practice my parents had pioneered before their deaths. I had only heard whispers about it during my training as a pack healer.
Emotion welled up inside me, unexpected and overwhelming. These journals represented not just knowledge, but a connection to the parents I’d never known-their life’s work, their dreams, their legacy.
“How did you…” I couldn’t finish the sentence as tears filled my eyes.
Nathan moved to my side, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “It took some time to track them down. After your parents’ deaths, their research was scattered across territories. I’ve been gathering what I could find for… well, for quite a while.”
I looked up at him, blinking back tears. “Why didn’t you give these to me before?”
His eyes held a warmth that made my wolf stir. “I thought about it many times. But your life seemed complicated enough with your position in the Moonstone Pack, your mate bond with Arthur. I wasn’t sure if introducing this would disrupt whatever plans you had made for yourself.”
He brushed a strand of hair from my face with surprising tenderness. “But after seeing you defend your research against Victoria’s accusations, after hearing about your plans to possibly join the Alliance of Werewolf Therapists, I knew you were ready for this.”
I ran my fingers over the journals, feeling a connection to my past I’d never experienced before. “These must have been incredibly difficult to obtain.”
“Worth every effort,” Nathan replied simply.
The significance of his gift struck me fully. These journals weren’t just old books-they were my birthright, a precious legacy I hadn’t known existed. And Nathan had spent who knows how long tracking them down for me.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I don’t even know how to express what this means to me.”
Nathan smiled, a genuine expression that reached his eyes. “Your reaction is thanks enough.”
I carefully leafed through more pages, amazed at the detailed formulations and research notes. “I can’t believe you found these. How many journals did my parents leave behind?”
“More than what I’ve brought you,” Nathan admitted, his expression showing frustration. “I tried to acquire their entire collection, but some packs refused to release all the journals they had. The northern packs in particular are possessive about rare healing knowledge.”
I nodded, understanding the territorial nature of werewolf healing practices. Rare formulations were guarded jealously, representing power and status among the territories.
“Still, this is an incredible start,” I said, determination building within me. “I could revive their healing practice, continue their research.”
The idea, forming as I spoke it aloud, felt right. Satisfying. A purpose that was entirely my own, connected to my heritage yet independent of Arthur or any pack’s influence.
“It would be challenging,” Nathan cautioned. “Establishing a new healing practice without pack backing isn’t easy.”
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