I lean forward, whispering in Ryker’s ear though I know the bond would have carried my thoughts. “The large bull at the northern edge. He’ll break right when startled.”
Ryker’s satisfaction pulses through our connection. He turns to the gathered wolves, communicating my directions. The pack divides, groups moving into strategic positions around the valley.
The hunt that follows is a dance of perfect coordination—wolves moving as a single entity, guided by Ryker’s commands and my visions. When the bull elk attempts to escape, Lithia’s group is already there to cut off his retreat. The takedown is swift, merciful, executed with the precision of predators born to hunt.
As the pack feeds, Ryker carries me down to join them. In Silvercrest, I would never have been permitted to participate in a ceremonial hunt, much less share in its bounty. Here, wolves move aside respectfully as Ryker approaches the fallen elk, allowing me access to choose portions despite my inability to participate in the actual kill.
The ceremony that follows blends primal ritual with surprising sophistication. Blood from the hunt is used to mark each wolf’s forehead—Lyra performing this duty for me with gentle hands, her eyes knowing as they meet mine.
“The blood binds us,” she explains. “One pack, one purpose, regardless of form.”
After the ritual markings, the pack settles into what can only be described as celebration. Some wolves shift back to human form, while others remain as wolves, all mingling in the moonlight. Music begins, drums and flutes, creating rhythms that call to something deep and instinctive.
Ryker shifts back to human form beside me, unconcerned with his nudity in a way that speaks to wolf-kind’s comfort with their dual nature. Someone brings him clothing, simple pants that he pulls on with fluid grace before turning to me.
“You did well,” he says, his voice pitched for my ears alone.
“I barely did anything,” I demur.
His fingers trace the blood mark on my forehead. “You saw. You shared. You participated.” His smile is rare and precious. “You were part of the pack tonight, Kitara. Not just as my mate, but as yourself.”
The simple truth of his words settles into me, filling cracks I didn’t realize still existed in my sense of self-worth. For the first time in my life, my gift has been celebrated rather than exploited. My difference acknowledged without becoming a barrier.
As the celebration continues around us, Ryker pulls me close, his arms encircling my waist. “Let them see,” he murmurs against my hair. “Let them understand what you are to me.”
The possessiveness in his touch is balanced by something I’m only beginning to recognize, respect, perhaps. Or an emotion far deeper that neither of us is ready to name.
In the distance, I spot Zella watching us, her expression unreadable before she turns away. Levi observes from the shadows, his gaze calculating but no longer openly hostile. Lithia converses with Elias, both occasionally glancing our way with what might be cautious approval.
The pack is adjusting to their Alpha’s unusual mate. Not all are convinced, not all are pleased, but the first steps havebeen taken. Tonight, I rode with the Alpha. Tonight, I hunted with the pack. Tonight, I belonged.
The fire crackles behind me, casting golden light across our gathered wolves—laughing, dancing, eating, teasing. I smile with them, laugh with them. But inside me, something else is stirring. Stronger. Deeper.
Hotter.
I can feel him at my back, always near, always watching. Ryker. My mate. The man I once feared touching me now haunts my every thought with the hope that he will.
Desire has been building in me for days, a slow, simmering ache I didn’t know how to name. I used to flinch when someone reached for me. Now I ache to be reached for. By him.
His presence doesn’t overwhelm me anymore. It intoxicates. The low rumble of his voice. The heat in his eyes when he looks at me. The restraint that simmers just beneath his skin. He hasn’t pushed, but gods, I want him to.
And tonight? Tonight, I stop waiting.
I turn toward him, heart pounding. He’s standing just beyond the circle of firelight, arms crossed, mouth tilted in that faint, knowing smirk.
I reach for him.
The moment our hands touch, desire crackles through me. His palm is rough with calluses, but it only makes my skin feel softer, more sensitive in contrast. Heat pours from him, chasing up my arm and settling low in my belly. My fingers curl around his, imagining how those same hands might feel gripping my hips, pinning me down, pulling me closer.
I lift my gaze to his.
And gods help me, I want.
Ryker lets me pull him toward the trees, his steps easy but his grip firm, controlled.
“Where are you taking me, mate?”
I grin, ignoring his teasing gruffness. “Come, wolf. Let me show you.”
