There had only ever been one person who could make Ellette feel unworthy with a simple gaze, and that person was her Father. But the moment her eyes collided with the awake and conscious stranger laying in front of her, whose wounds she had been tending to with as much delicacy and gentleness as she could muster, never had she ever felt so pathetically insecure, entirely unworthy or hopelessly unsure.

At least when it came to her Father, Ellette never had to endure his cold and intrusive stare for very long because it was always accompanied and often overpowered by his equally cold and harsh words. Words were just words, and although they harboured the power to hurt if that was the intention of the person wielding them, for Ellette, she often took comfort in them and the distraction they provided so long as she did not have to endure her Father's insufferable gaze any longer. But with nothing but silence to accompany this stranger's gaze as it held Ellette's captive, she was given no other choice but to accept the feeling of unworthiness as it quickly invaded her from within.

As the feeling began to tear her apart inside, Ellette dropped her gaze to the wooden floor boards, and quickly pulled away the hand that was tending to the stranger's wound. Her heart began to race, and instead of adrenaline, fear coursed through her veins.

"Hello."

Ellette expected his voice to be cruel, but there was no trace of anything harsh enough to further terrify her.

And to be terrified certainly would have been in her best interest.

"Hello," she softly replied, but did not dare lift her eyes to meet his. Instead, she kept them fixated on the cloth still clutched in her fingers, soaked with the blood of the shifter in front of her.

"Since you deprive me of your gaze," his voice was weak, "might I instead be granted with your name?"

If it was any other person—any other stranger—Ellette might have given in to such a normal request. But she knew with absolute certainty that honouring this particular stranger's request would only do more harm than good. So—on the outside, at least—she remained silent. However, on the inside, her heart was racing a mile a minute, while her thoughts wreaked havoc inside of her head. It was her body's way of trying to assess the situation and determine the outcome of the measures she had taken to save this stranger's life.

"I wish to tell you," she said honestly, "but I think it best that I do not."

"I suppose that is a fair request, though I only wish to thank you for saving my life. Not many humans would have done the same."

Ellette looked at him then, and if she had not been so caught off guard by his statement, she would have scolded herself for being so bold. Her thoughts came to a standstill, and the pounding of her heart slowly decelerated into a more normal tempo.

Was it truly possible that this shifter did not know what she was? Could he not feel nor sense it? How could his eyes, which refused to focus on anything other than her, not see it staring so obviously back at him?

But those same light brown eyes finally looked away from her as the shifter pushed himself into a seated position and propped himself up with his back against the leg of the fireplace.

"I take it," she started, a slight bit of courage aiding her, "you do not come into contact with many humans, do you?" Her eyes trailed over his features as she worded her question very carefully.

His full lips curved into a slight smile. "Not many, no. And the ones that I may cross paths with are not exactly privy to my nature."

He did not have to come right out and say it, but Ellette knew what the shifter was hinting at. "Sometimes one's existence rests solely on keeping that existence a secret. I understand that better than you might think," she added against her better judgment and could only hope he did not think too much of it. "Well do not fret," she offered him a soft smile, though even she knew it did not reach her eyes. "I will not tell a soul."

Remembering that she was still supposed to be tending to his wound, Ellette pulled her eyes away from him and dipped the cloth into the bowl of warm water. Wringing out the excess, she looked at the shifter. Because he had moved, she had no other choice but to scoot closer to him in order to clean his cut. But doing so would only put both of them in a much closer proximity.

"May I?"

A nod was all Ellette received in response, but it was enough.

She moved closer to him, which brought her to his right side, and gently dabbed at his wound. Every now and then, the urge to look up at him took hold of her, but she managed to refrain herself. Instead, she focused on the rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took. She noted the contrast of their skin colours, and the toned and defined muscles along his arms and torso. And although she tried very hard not to think too much about it, ignoring the fact that the shifter was very, very naked underneath her red cloak, which was still covering his bottom half, was proving harder with every second that passed.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Weak. But quite thankful to be alive. I do, however, think my spirits could be lifted if I knew the name of my saviour, but I will not get my hopes up. I think your determination not to tell me might very well be greater than my hope that you will."

Ellette could not prevent the smile that tugged at her lips. "How about pain? Are you feeling any discomfort?"

Both her and Freya had worried over the possibility that the poison might have already taken root inside of his blood stream by the time they had found him. However, seeing as he was not only conscious and talking, but also trying to assert his strength rather than fall prey to the crippling embrace of weakness, it was safe to say that his blood was untarnished.

"It is manageable."

"Well, your wound has healed quite a bit since last night, but you are not in the clear just yet."

After cleaning the remaining remnants of blood and the salve from his body, she dropped the cloth into the water bowl and shoved it aside. Drying her hands on her cloak, Ellette reached up and placed the back of her hand on the shifter's forehead.

"You are quite warm, but not dangerously so."

She kept her hand there a bit longer than what was probably necessary, but the blame rested solely on the shifter and his enticing gaze. Ellette did not mean to look into his eyes, but when she carelessly allowed hers to trail over his face, they were silently coerced into mingling with his.

"Why are you not frightened of me?"

"I am frightened. Quite frightened, actually." Slowly, Ellette pulled her hand from his forehead, and with a courage she had not known she had, placed that same hand on his cheek in a gentle caress. "But maybe if your wolf was a bit bigger and bit badder, I just might be extremely frightened."

Ellette was never one to censor the things that came out of her mouth—she was quite like the twins in that sense. It was not in their nature to maliciously offend any creature under the sun or moon, but, every now and then, she did enjoy lightening things up with a bit of humour. And, in that moment, she could not resist taking a little jab at the shifter.

With bated breath, she waited for his reaction. Moments ago she had been right to be cautious and uncertain of her fate whilst in his company, but despite his obvious efforts—even in his weakened state—to make her feel safe and comfortable, Ellette wondered if it might have been far too soon for her daring nature to rear its head. However, when his mouth turned from a tight line into the distinct curve of a smile, relief washed over her.

"To be fair, you have only seen me at my worst. Maybe I shall stick around long enough for you to see me at my best." He placed his hand on top of hers before she could pull away. "I promise you I am a lot bigger and badder when I am at my best, girl without a name."

It must have been a mixture of his words and the way he was staring into her eyes that caused a small spark of warmth to jolt out of Ellette's fingertips and into him.

She did not mean to. Truly, she did not. However, she did not keep her eyes on him nor her hand upon his face long enough to wonder if he noticed what she had done. And when the twins interrupted the moment by entering the room, Ellette had never been more appreciative of their impeccable timing.

Ellette turned away from the shifter, and watched both Nissa and Raisie's faces turn from nonchalance to excitement as their gaze landed upon the occupied space next to her.

"He is awake!" They yelled simultaneously.

"Freya, come quick! He is awake!" Nissa yelled.

"Why did you not tell us, Ellie!"

She felt his eyes on her then, could practically feel the smirk radiating off of his mouth as a result of Raisie exposing her name to him. But she would not give him the satisfaction of meeting his eyes and admitting defeat just yet.

The twins raced towards them and threw themselves at his side.

"Hello!"

"Hello!"

"I am Raisie—"

"And I am Nissa—"

"I am the younger twin—"

"Which makes me the wiser twin—"

"And makes me the more beautiful twin—"

"What is your name?" They both asked.

Ellette had not even thought about asking the shifter his name, as she had been so determined not to reveal her own. No good would possibly come from remembering him as anything other than a stranger, yet, when the twins asked, she could not help but want to hear his answer.

"My name is Michael, and I am very honoured to meet you both, Raisie and Nissa."

Michael.

There was a strength Ellette felt behind his name. It was powerful. Masculine. She quite liked it and could not deny that it suited him well. But she also could not deny that knowing it did not matter because it would never be a name that would slip past hers nor her sisters' lips.

Freya then entered the room with another bowl in her hands. Her eyes travelled first to Michael, then to the twins, and lastly to Ellette. Just as Ellette's initial reaction was to lower her gaze when Michael first awoke, Freya did the same. The twins seemed to be the only ones in the room who had forgotten proper etiquette, but scolding them, both Ellette and Freya knew, would have only brought unwanted attention upon them all.

"Hello, you must be Freya," Michael said.

Lifting her gaze, Freya nodded and offered him a polite smile. "Yes. I am very glad to see that you are awake." She ventured closer to them and handed the bowl to Ellette before lowering herself to her knees next to her. "Do you mind if I take a look?"

After Michael agreed, Ellette watched as her sister inspected his wound.

Freya was very much the healer of the family, who was often praised for her healing hands. She knew how to be careful. And as Ellette continued to watch, she noticed the careful way in which Freya kept her face free of any expression or emotion. How she carefully did not give anything away in her body language, nor allow her eyes to betray her true feelings.

Ellette did not know why the thought bothered to cross her mind—especially since she chose to be equally as careful as Freya when she had been alone with him—but she could not help but wonder if being too cautious would only arouse suspicion rather than deflect it.