“Stay away from me.” I shoved past him, my legs finding their strength, my fight-or-flight firmly choosing flight. “Just... stay away.”
“Please.” His voice cracked, the smile gone now. “Please don’t run from me. I know this is a lot. I know I should have told yousooner. But everything I said is true. Everything I feel is real, and I...”
“I can’t do this right now. I can’t.” The words came out ragged, desperate. “I just got attacked. I just watched a man turn into a wolf. I just found out that werewolves exist and portals exist and goddess-ordained soulmates exist and Ican’t process this right now.”
He stepped back. His expression was anguished, but he nodded.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “Okay. I’ll give you space. But Riley...” He took a breath. “I’ll be waiting. However long it takes. I’ll be here.”
“Don’t.”
“I can’t help it. It’s what mates do.”
I ran, and I didn’t look back.
This couldn’t be real. These were the things I wrote about in my books. Fantasy, escapism for lonely readers who wanted to believe in magic and destiny.
But I could still feel the warmth of that wolf’s tongue on my cheek, hear the whine of distress when it saw my bruised throat. Could still see Caelan’s body shift and change, bones cracking, fur erupting, humanity giving way to beast.
I, Riley Hawkins, romance novelist and skeptic and general disaster of a human being, was apparently the fated mate of a werewolf prince from another dimension.
I had no idea what to do about it. But I knew one thing for certain: I was going to need a lot of wine.
18
— • —
Caelan
I fucked up. I fucked up so badly that there wasn’t a word in any language, human or wolf, to adequately describe the magnitude of my failure.
I watched Riley run, her figure disappearing around the corner, and felt my chest crack open. She was terrified of me, of what I was, and with damn reason. My wolf howled in anguish, clawing at my ribs, demanding I chase her, hold her until she understood.
But she’d asked me to stay away. I owed her at least that much. I turned back to the alley. The unconscious piece of shit was still crumpled on the concrete where I’d left him, shirtless now thanks to my earlier improvisation. Fine. This wouldn’t take long.
I shifted, the transformation ripping through me, bones breaking and reforming, skin sprouting fur, human thoughts narrowing to pure instinct. My wolf took over with savage satisfaction.
I approached Damien’s limp body and considered the logistics. He had no collar to grab, no shirt to drag him by. Fine. I hoisted the unconscious man onto my back, then clamped my jaws around his forearm hard enough to hold and leave marks, not quite hard enough to sever. He wouldn’t slip. And even if he woke, the pain would keep him compliant.
I ran through empty streets, keeping to shadows, moving faster than human eyes could track. The weight on my back was less than nothing. I could carry this pathetic excuse for a man across the entire city without breaking a sweat.
The woods at the edge of Lysmont appeared within minutes. I dragged Damien deep into the trees, away from paths, away from witnesses and anyone who might hear what came next.
I dropped him on the forest floor and shifted back.ThenI woke him up, slapping him hard enough to crack bones.
Damien came to with a gasp, eyes wild, scrambling backward in the dirt until his back hit a tree. His gaze found me, naked, blood still on my hands, eyes glowing amber in the dim light, and his face went white.
“What... what the fuck are you...”
“Be quiet.”
The command came out with alpha force behind it, and Damien’s mouth snapped shut against his will. His eyes went wider and I smiled. He should be afraid.
I crouched in front of him, perfectly calm and controlled. The rage was still there, burning, but I’d channeled it into a colder place. More dangerous.
“You put your hands on her,” I said conversationally. “You hurt her. You choked her, even when I told you what would happen if you did.”
Damien whimpered, tried to speak but couldn’t.
