He repeated it carefully, the syllables slightly different in his accent but recognizable. "E-llie."
I smiled back, a real smile for the first time since I couldn’t remember, and in that shared moment of understanding, I found a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, we were not as alone in this world as we thought.
CHAPTER 9
RIVIK
My fated mate was human.
The thought kept circling through my mind like a wolf chasing its own tail, never getting closer to making sense. Hours had passed since I'd heard her scream, since the bond had snapped into place with the force of a lightning strike, and I still couldn't quite believe it.
Human.
Not wolf. Not pack. Not even remotely suitable.
And absolutely, undeniablymine.The fire crackled as I turned the spit, fat from the venison haunch dripping into the flames with sharp hisses. The scent of roasting meat filled the temporary camp, rich and grounding after hours of hard travel. My hands moved through the familiar motions checking the coals, adjusting the meat, keeping the heat even while my mind churned through problems I couldn't solve.
The female sat twenty paces away by the smaller fire tending her pack mate, and I was trying very hard not to look at her.
Failing, mostly.
I'd managed to keep my distance during the march, had forced myself to focus on logistics and threats and keeping everyone moving. Had assigned other wolves to help her when she stumbled, had stayed at the front of the column where I belonged and pretended my entire world hadn't just tilted sideways.
But now we'd stopped. Now there was nothing to do but prepare the evening meal and try not to stare at the impossible woman the Great Mother had chosen for me.
Why her? Why now? Why someone so completely, utterly wrong?
I'd stopped hoping to find my fated mate years ago. Most alphas found theirs young—the pull drawing them together before they'd seen twenty winters. I'd seen thirty-two and traveled widely enough to meet wolves from a dozen different packs. Nothing. No pull, no recognition, not even a whisper of connection and despite what the others had teased me about only the night before, I'd made my peace with it. Accepted that I'd lead my pack with a suitable mate who I might one day grow to love, but that I'd never know the bone-deep certainty of a fated bond. Some wolves never found their mates, it wasn’t unheard of. The bond required both halves to exist and be findable, and with territories so vast and packs so scattered, sometimes the stars simply didn't align.
And then I'd heard her scream.
One sound and everything I'd accepted as truth had shattered. The bond had roared to life like fire catching dry tinder, every fibre of my being suddenly oriented toward her. Toward protecting her. Keeping her safe. Bringing her home.
Mine.
My wolf spirit had known instantly. Had recognized her with a certainty that left no room for doubt. The Great Mother hadwoven our souls together before either of us was born, had marked her as my perfect match, my other half, the one wolf in all the world meant to stand beside me.
Except she wasn't a wolf.
She was human, and even worse—she carried magic. Wild, strange magic that made my wolf spirit restless with fascination and wariness in equal measure. Not the shamanic power some shifters commanded. This was something other, something that hummed beneath her skin like a second heartbeat.
And she was stillmine.
The bond pulsed in my chest like a living thing, insistent and undeniable. It wanted me to go to her. Wanted me to push Daska aside and tend her wounds myself, to wrap her in my furs and keep her close until she understood she was safe now. Protected.
I gripped the spit harder and forced myself to focus on the meat.
This was a disaster. A pack-splitting, alliance-destroying, future-ending disaster.
Because even if she were pack, even if she were wolf, announcing a human mate at the summer gathering would destroy everything I'd spent ten summers building.
Daska crouched beside her, his body blocking most of her from my view but even from here I could see the way she held herself, her spine straight despite obvious exhaustion, jaw tight against pain she wouldn't voice. The kind of strength that came from surviving things that should have broken her.
Mine.
"Rivik." Torin's voice pulled me back. He crouched on the other side of the fire, his expression carefully neutral. "Fen's back from scouting."
I looked up as Fen emerged from the tree line. He shifted as he reached the fire and accepted the water skin I offered.
