“I’m not sure I understand.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “You will. In time.”
I wring out the cloth, grimacing at the blood that falls.
He continues, his voice low. “Our pack were almost wiped out in the Blood Wars. Betrayed by the former Grand Alpha. The survivors live here now, underground. We welcome wolves who don’t fit anywhere else.”
I pause at the mention of the Blood Wars, my stomach tightening. It was a bloody time in our recent history—a time when wolves were dragged from their dens by fae magic, children turned into weapons, whole bloodlines erased in the name of balance. The fae courts wanted control over the were, and the former Grand Alpha opened our borders to them. Sold our kind in exchange for his own power.
“I was a pup when they happened,” I say, lifting up on my knees to reach a cut near his shoulder. “You couldn’t have been much older.”
“I wasn’t. But my wolf is large and fierce, and so we went to battle at the side of my pack.” His shoulders tense under my hands. “I was in the final battle. When I became injured, I hid at the direction of my Alpha, surviving by huddling under bones and bodies.”
My wolf makes a sound deep inside me, calling her sympathy and comfort to his wolf.
“I’m sorry—for both you and your pack.”
He turns, slow and deliberate, and lifts a hand toward my face. I tense—but he only brushes a wet curl behind my ear.
“Thank you.”
We’re silent as he turns back and I continue to wash him, watching as the silver is removed and his natural healing takes over.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“For what?” he asks.
“For being honest. And for being patient with me.”
Ryker moves so fast the water barely ripples. One moment I’m cleaning his wounds, the next I’m pulled onto his lap, his large hands spanning my waist. The sudden heat of his skin against mine steals my breath.
Every nerve lights up as I register exactly how close we are. We’re both naked. His chest presses against mine, his thighs bracketing me. And beneath me—gods—I feel him. His thickening length presses against my core, hard and growing harder by the second. The only thing separating us is the slick heat of the water and whatever thread of control he’s still clinging to.
I’ve never been this close to a man before. Never wanted to be.
And yet, I don’t move.
My hands are on his shoulders, braced there as if for balance. The muscle beneath my palms is iron-wrapped tension. His body hums with it—restrained strength, coiled and waiting. His jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle ticking beneath the stubble. His nose flares once, twice, drawing in my scent like it’s the only thing anchoring him to reality.
His gaze locks with mine.
There’s heat there, yes. Hunger. Claiming. But there’s something else too. Something wild and reverent and deeply, achingly tender.
He’s holding me like I imagine a mate should hold their heart.
“I’m not a patient wolf, Kitara,” he says, voice low and ragged. “My instincts demand I claim what’s mine. Completely.”
It’s too much. I start to pull away, but his hand catches my wrist—not painfully, but firmly enough to stop me.
“But I can smell your fear and hesitation on your skin,” he continues, his thumb stroking the inside of my wrist wheremy pulse jumps beneath his touch. “And I want you willing. I won’t take what isn’t freely given.”
“Why?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
His smile is dark and full of promise. “Because submission is sweeter when it isn’t gained through coercion. And you will submit to me, little seer. When you’re ready.”
Heat blooms low in my belly at his words. My wolf stretches, eager and wanting, while the human in me remains wary.
“Until then...” His hand slides up my arm, leaving goose bumps in its wake. “I’ll help you become comfortable with my touch.”
