He spins away, hitting the ground hard enough to knock the air out of him, and I follow him down, a fist in his coat, slamming him once, twice into the frozen earth. His head lolls, dazed, and I leave him to the snow.
The bigger one reaches me as I rise, a snarl curling his lips. He comes in swinging, and I block the first hit with my forearm, the second with my palm, catching his wrist and twisting until he roars. I drive my elbow into his jaw, but he’s still standing, still grinning through the blood in his teeth.
He feints right, comes left, and his fist connects with my ribs. Pain flares hot, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of stepping back. I shove him hard, catching the back of his neck and hauling him forward into my knee. He stumbles, and I follow, boot sweeping his legs. When he hits the ground, I plant a foot on his chest, pinning him.
“Where’s Roman?” I growl down at him, voice low enough to make it a promise.
He spits red into the snow. “Not here. With the other one. The human.”
Holden.
The name slams through me, but I keep my grip steady. “What’s he planning?”
His grin turns thin and cruel. “You’ll see.”
I could crush his throat for that, but it’s not worth the time. He’s just a scout, sent to measure, not to kill. I shove him backinto the snow, turning as I catch the sound of more movement—two more wolves breaking from the shadows.
The first comes high, leaping for my shoulders. I drop low, catching him midair and slamming him onto his back, driving my forearm into his collarbone until he goes limp. The second is quicker, darting in with a short blade. He slashes for my side, but I sidestep, catching his arm and spinning him toward a tree. His face hits the bark, and he slides down, groaning.
I stand still then, chest heaving, scanning the treeline. No more shadows. No more scents. Just the soft hiss of snow drifting from the branches and the faint sound of someone running away through the dark.
Tessa’s at my back, close enough that her warmth is a pulse against the cold. I feel her hand on my arm, light but steady, and the wolf in me quiets the rest of the way.
“You didn’t change,” she says softly, like she’s tasting the words.
“No,” I answer, meeting her eyes. “Didn’t need to.”
Her gaze searches mine. “You were in control the whole time.”
I breathe out slow, letting the cold settle back into me. “The wolf obeys what matters most. Tonight, that’s you.”
The forest is still again, but it’s not the same stillness I walked into. This wasn’t meant to end me. This was Roman’s measure, his last test before whatever he’s planning next.
And I’m ready to return the message.
29
TESSA
The cabin door thuds shut behind us, sealing out the forest’s cold threat. Darius’s hand stays pressed against the small of my back, his warmth bleeding through my coat. I fumble with the zipper, fingers trembling from leftover adrenaline, but he brushes them aside with a low chuckle.
"Let me." The sound rumbles in his chest, vibrating against me as he eases the zipper down. Our breaths cloud the air between us, turning sharp exhales into something sweet and shared.
I shuck off the coat. He catches it mid-fall, tossing it over a chair before crowding me against the wall. His palm splays over my hip, possessive without demand. "You watched that whole fight without making a sound."
"Didn’t want to distract you." His heartbeat thrums under my palm where it rests over his sweater. I skim higher, tracing the hard line of his collarbone. "Though yelling 'left' probably helped."
"Saved me a bruise." His thumb finds the hollow above my hip bone, rubbing slow circles that melt the last icy knots inside me. He leans in until his lips hover over mine—distant planetsslowly colliding. "Celebratory secret?" His breath ghosts over my skin. "Tessa Monroe’s the only woman who could’ve handled that forest tonight without me."
He kisses me then, deep and thorough, swallowing my disbelieving laugh. It’s victory. It’s silk-and-embers heat. We shed clothes in the stumbling path toward the bedroom: my sweater caught on his wristwatch, his jeans hitting the floor with a clink of belt buckle. There’s no frenzy. No rush.
I trace the furrow between his pecs down to where his cock alerts hard and thick against my belly. He groans against my throat as my fingers wrap tight around him. "Yeah. Exactly like that."
He lifts me onto the bedframe edge. Kneeling between my legs, he nips below my ear while his hand slides into my panties. Two fingers slip through my wetness, testing the give and drag, and I arch helplessly.
"Show me," I demand, ragged. He tugs my panties aside. His gaze latches onto my exposed pussy like he’s memorizing it before he laps at me. Slow. Purposeful. That sinful tongue works open-mouthed circles around my clit while his knuckles graze my inner thighs. I crush the heel of my hand against my mouth to stifle my throaty cry. His soft growl vibrates through my veins.More.
He surges up to kiss my mouth again, letting me taste myself on his lips that pulls a needy whine. He nudges my legs wider. That first drive—that relentless stretch as his cock breaches deep—makes me shudder against his chest. Not just inside me.Occupied. We gasp in fractured syllables. He presses his forehead to mine, riding a thick groan.
