Everything about her calls to my most feral instincts. Hervulnerability makes me want to hunt for her, to kill for her, to wrap her in my power until nothing can touch her. My lips curl back from my teeth at the thought of anyone laying claim to what is mine.
Her gift makes her valuable enough to risk war over. But I would have claimed her regardless. She calls to me on a level deeper than reason or strategy.
My thumb brushes the mark I placed on her neck.No one can take her from me.
A growl rumbles through my chest. The other packs wanted to breed her gift into their bloodlines, to use her and then discard her. But I have claimed her. Any pups she bears will be mine—they will carry both her sight and my strength, and will rule the shadows with both power and prophecy.
I reach the entrance to my private den and duck carefully through the opening, mindful of my sleeping cargo. The cave system is vast, a maze of tunnels and chambers that humans have long forgotten. My own den lies deep in the heart of the caves. It is in this place of warmth and stone that I can finally breathe freely knowing she’s protected.
My mate stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, her body instinctively curling into my heat. Her fingers, now gripping my shoulder instead of my fur, hold on with surprising strength.
“Sleep, little seer,” I murmur, laying her on the furs that cover my bed. “You’ll need your strength for what’s coming.”
And come they will. The Grand Alpha will gather his forces—and then I will show them all exactly why the Shadowmist pack is feared in more than just name.
I glance back down at my mate. I have claimed the most valuable female in five territories. Now I must be vicious enough to keep her.
Chapter
Five
My dream releases me with a gasp, fragments of blood and moonlight still dancing behind my eyes. I blink awake, disoriented, my body heavy and warm against unfamiliar furs. Then memory crashes over me—the Claiming ceremony, Kieran’s death, Ryker’s teeth in my throat.
My hand flies to the claiming mark, finding it hot and tender under my fingers. The bond thrums with foreign power, his strength burning through my veins. It makes me feel both more and less myself, as though his wildness is seeping into my bones, reshaping me from the inside out.
As my eyes adjust to the dim light, I take in my surroundings. This is nothing like the bedrooms I’d known in my old pack—there’s no sterile symmetry or forced elegance. This is a true den carved into the heart of a mountain.
For a beat, I wonder if Ryker’s pack has rejected modern comforts altogether—until I spy the lights tucked into a recess strip in the stone ceiling. Sitting up slowly, I glance around, taking in the luxe finishes. Built into one wall, a state-of-the-art coffee machine perches next to a mini bar stocked with glass decanters—whiskey, scotch, somethingamber and old. There’s even a touchscreen tablet mounted into the wall near the bed.
But the rest of it? All wild.
A massive fireplace dominates the room casting dancing shadows across walls lined with weapons—knives, swords, and what looks like ancient battle axes. Each is well crafted and lovingly maintained.
The massive bed I’m lying in is a nest of luxurious furs and pillows that still hold Ryker’s scent—earth and stone and predator.
I shiver as I gather them to me, breathing in his addictive aroma, grounding myself in his feral and masculine and terrifying scent.
“Welcome back.”
His voice sends shivers down my spine, and I twist toward the sound. Ryker stands in the stone archway, utterly relaxed and completely naked. Dried blood maps dark lines over his chest, his arms, his thighs—savage brushstrokes across his skin. The firelight makes his scars shimmer, turning him into an ancient and untamed beast. He’s a god of war, pulled from myth and dropped into my bedchamber.
Nudity is nothing in pack life. I’ve seen a hundred male wolves shift and stand bare in the open.
But this?
There is nothing casual about Ryker’s nakedness.
My eyes betray me, roaming his towering frame—his broad shoulders, the cut of his muscles, the sharp lines of his abdomen that lead down. My breath hitches, heat coiling low in my belly. He’s well-endowed—thick, heavy, and utterly unapologetic about it.
I’ve never cared to look before. Never wanted to. But now?
I can’t not look.
He is heat and danger made flesh. Everything about him radiates power—sex and violence braided so tightly togetherI can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. My heart hammers in my chest, torn between fear and a feeling far more dangerous.
“I...” I clutch the furs to my chest, though they do little to hide my curves from his predatory gaze. “How did you know I was waking?”
“I felt it.” He pushes off from the archway, moving toward me with fluid grace. “Through the claiming mark. I feel all my pack. Can you not?”
