“Mine,” he growls against my lips. “You’re mine.”
A sharp scratch at the stone entrance makes Ryker’s head snap up, a snarl building in his chest. I feel his arms tighten around me protectively before a voice calls out.
“Alpha,” the male calls, his eyes averted respectfully. “Forgive the interruption, but the northern scouts have picked up movement. A large group is approaching the border markers. They’re not even trying to hide.”
Ryker’s muscles coil beneath my hands. He doesn’t release me, but his demeanor shifts from passionate to lethal in an instant. “Numbers?”
“At least thirty. Mixed pack signatures. And...” The wolf hesitates. “They’re carrying silver, Alpha. We can smell it on the wind.”
The growl that rumbles through Ryker’s chest is pure predator. He finally pulls away from me, though his hand lingers on my claiming mark sending pulses of warmth through the bond. “Get the enforcers in position. No one engages without my command.” His eyes lock onto mine. “And post four guards outside this den. No one enters except yourself or Lithia.”
“Already done, Alpha.”
“Good. Now get Elias and his unit ready. If they want to play with silver, we’ll remind them why we hunt in darkness.”
The wolf retreats, and Ryker turns back to me. The heat from moments ago has transformed into something darker, more violent. “That was Dane. You allow only him or his sister in until I’m back. Her name is Lithia. She has a scar here.” He runs a hand down his cheek in demonstration. “Rest, little seer. You’re safe here.” His thumb traces my lower lip, still swollen from his kiss. “And when I return, we’ll finish what we started.”
As he goes to pull away, another vision sucks me under without warning. My eyes roll back as the vision drags me into its depths. My fingers dig into his arm, holding him in place as power surges through our claiming bond.
Through the haze of images, I feel Ryker experiencing it too—the electric current of my gift. Somehow I know that he catches fragments of what I’m seeing—moonlight on silver arrows, wolves moving through hidden tunnels, a trap waiting in the darkness.
“No,” I gasp, my body arching as the vision clawsthrough me. “Not the northern border. It’s a distraction. They’re coming through the old mines. The silver scent... it’s to mask?—”
The vision releases me, and I collapse against his chest, my body shaking from the strain. Every muscle aches as though I’ve run for miles. A warmth trickles from my nose, and I touch it to find blood staining my fingertips. This is the familiar aftermath of a forced vision.
“You’re bleeding.” There’s alarm in Ryker’s voice, something I didn’t expect from the savage alpha. His brow furrows as he examines the blood, then he glances toward the door. “Dane!”
The wolf appears instantly. “Alpha?”
“Bring water, cloths, and food. Now.” The command is sharp. He leaves, and Ryker lifts me gently, cradling me against his chest as he moves to sit us on the edge of the bed. “Does this happen every time?” he asks, his voice soft as he cradles my head, holding my hair back.
He reaches over to his bedside table, pulling tissues from the drawer. Gently, he presses it to my nose, capturing the blood flow.
I nod. “The stronger the vision, the worse the outcome.”
“And how did your pack treat this?” There’s a dangerous undertone lurking behind the question.
“They didn’t,” I whisper.
A growl rumbles through his chest, but it’s not directed at me. It’s a sound of pure rage focused elsewhere. “And they called themselves wolves,” he mutters, disgust evident in every word.
Dane returns with remarkable speed, setting a basin of water, clean cloths, and a tray of food near the bed before retreating without a word.
Ryker dips a cloth in the cool water and gently cleans the blood from my face. His touch is surprisingly tender, at odds with the hands that tore out Kieran’s throat just hours ago.He wrings another cloth and folds it, pressing it gently to the back of my neck.
“The cold will help,” he explains, supporting me with one arm while he uses his other hand to hold the compress in place. “My mother used to do this for my sister when her moon cycles were painful.”
The mention of his family startles me. It’s easy to forget that even the most feared alpha has a mother, a childhood, connections beyond violence and power.
“Eat,” he urges, nodding toward the tray once my nose has stopped bleeding. There’s meat—perfectly rare—fresh bread, and what looks like honey. “You need to rebuild your strength.”
“But the tunnels,” I protest weakly. “The ambush?—”
“Will be handled,” he assures me, his voice hardening again. “I’ll send scouts to confirm your vision. But you”—he brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch lingering—“need to rest. Your gift drains you too severely to ignore.”
He gently lays me back on the bed, drawing the furs around me with surprising tenderness. “Rest, Kitara. You are safe.”
With one fluid step he shifts, transforming into the giant black wolf. The change is so swift, so graceful, that I barely register the moment human becomes beast. He shakes his massive head, then throws it back in a howl that echoes through the den and into the caves outside.
