The Wendigo, with its tall elk-like antlers, prowls the outside of the ring of fire. It's testing the flames, looking for weakness. There is none. This fire is born of my desperation, my terror, my...love.
The word settles into my consciousness like a stone dropping into still water.
Love.
I love her.
The realization should terrify me. Instead, it only makes my flames burn hotter. Banking hard, I turn and bathe the demon in the hottest flames I can muster. The fire pours from me in an endless stream, white-hot and merciless. I don't hold back—I can't. Every ounce of power I possess goes into destroying this thing that dared threaten what's mine.
Doing this, I know I'll be unable to shift for a day or two depending on how much rest I get and how well I eat. The exhaustion is already creeping in, my flames dimming at theedges. But I don't stop. I can't stop. As long as my flame is safe, it's worth it. I would burn myself to ash for her if that's what it took.
Once the Wendigo is reduced to a twitching, charred mass on the ground, I land and shift back. The transformation leaves me lightheaded, my legs unsteady beneath me. I've pushed too hard, given too much. My bird retreats to the deepest corners of my consciousness to recover, leaving me feeling hollow and strangely cold despite the inferno still raging around us.
Thankfully, being a mythic has its benefits—my clothes remain intact when I move between forms. Without a second thought, I walk through the flames and search the interior for her. The fire parts for me, recognizing its master, welcoming me home. Inside the ring, the air is warm but breathable, protected from the worst of the heat by my will alone.
I find Feray huddled naked next to a bush, holding her knees to her chest. She's shaking so hard I can see it from ten feet away, her pale skin marked with scratches from her flight through the woods. Her eyes—those beautiful gray-blue eyes—are wide and glassy with shock.
Something inside me breaks at the sight.
I take a step toward her, then another, moving slowly so as not to startle her. "Feray," I say softly, and my voice comes out rougher than I intended, scraped raw with emotion. "It's alright. You're safe now."
Unexpectedly, she leaps to her feet and runs straight for me. Our bodies collide, and she knocks the air out of my lungs. Her arms wrap around me like I've seen her do to Torben on many occasions—desperate, clinging, as if I'm the only solid thing ina world that's tilting beneath her feet. The tightness of her hold makes my heart skip a beat, and my bird, for once, goes silent.
She chose me. In her moment of greatest fear, after everything, she ran to me.
I remove my suit jacket and wrap her up in it before returning her embrace. My arms band around her small frame, pulling her as close as physically possible. I can feel her heartbeat racing against my chest, wild and frantic like a trapped bird. The irony isn't lost on me. I'm having mixed emotions. Half of me is ecstatic—she's alive, she's in my arms, she's safe. The other half isn't ready to share our mate with the others. I want to take her away from here, away from everyone, to some remote corner of the world where I can keep her all to myself. The selfishness of the thought shames me even as I can't let it go.
Her body trembles in my arms as she presses her forehead against my chest. Soft whimpers escape her lips—tiny, broken sounds that shatter something inside me. I scoop her up without hesitation, cradling her against me like something infinitely precious. Because she is. She's the most precious thing I've held in over a thousand years. My bird cannot stand to hear her scared tones. Even in his exhaustion, he stirs, crooning softly to comfort her. The vibration resonates through my chest, and I feel her relax incrementally against me.
She rests her head on my shoulder only a moment before I jostle her briefly to lower the flames I erected. With a thought, the fire responds, sinking back into the earth like a living thing returning to sleep. The world outside our cocoon of warmth comes back into focus—the charred remains of the Wendigo, the distant sounds of her other mates approaching.
With her in my arms, feeling her cling to me like I'm the only man in the world, I'm doomed. This little she-wolf in my embrace has stolen my heart—a heart I thought had long since turned to ash. I was a fool to think I could resist her.
Glancing down, I see the pendant I gave her hanging just above her breasts, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. The feather inside glows softly, responding to my proximity, to the bond that strengthens with every moment we touch. She kept it close to her heart. She's been wearing it this whole time. The realization makes my throat tight with emotion.
Gently, I press a kiss to the crown of her head and linger there a moment, breathing in her scent—wolf and wildflowers and something uniquely her. My lips move against her hair as words I never thought I'd say again spill out of me. Softly, I whisper to her. "My flame. My beautiful, precious flame."
She slowly raises her head, and I'm lost in her gray-blue eyes. They're still glassy with residual fear, but there's something else there now. Something warm. Something hopeful.
"When we get somewhere safe..." I ghost my lips over hers, barely a touch, more promise than kiss. Her breath catches, and I feel the small sound everywhere. Pulling back slightly, I see the gold of her wolf's eyes flare to life. Woman and beast are paying attention, focused entirely on me. I've waited a thousand years for someone to look at me like this. "I will make you mine, if you let me." The words hang in the air between us, heavy with meaning. I've just offered her everything—my protection, my devotion, my very existence. If she accepts, if she takes my feather into herself, we'll be bound in ways that transcend mortality.
The most radiant smile I've seen in my long years graces her lips. It transforms her face, chasing away the shadows of fear, making her glow brighter than any fire I could conjure. She nods as a blush creeps across her cheeks, pink and perfect against her pale skin.
"I would like that very much." She leans forward and presses her pillowy soft lips against mine, and I swear I'm about to combust. The kiss is gentle, almost chaste, but it ignites something in my chest that no amount of phoenix fire could match. Her lips are warm and soft, and she tastes like honey and hope and home. I've kissed countless women over the centuries. Queens and courtesans, witches and warriors. None of them—not a single one—has ever made me feel like this.
Before I can deepen the kiss, before I can lose myself in her completely, her other bonded mates catch up and shift back. The sound of their heavy breathing and thundering footsteps breaks through the haze of want fogging my brain.
"Feray, are you okay?" Torben reaches for her first, and she hesitates for a moment before I lower her to the ground, allowing her to go to him.
Her hesitation speaks louder than all the sweet nothings her bear is uttering. She didn't want to leave me. She wanted to stay in my arms, wrapped in my jacket that still holds my warmth, my scent. The knowledge settles into my bones like liquid gold, precious and warming.
I watch as Torben engulfs her in his massive embrace, as Khal hovers nearby, checking her for injuries with frantic eyes. They love her too. I can see it in every line of their bodies, every worried glance, every gentle touch. I should hate them. I shouldresent having to share her with these men who have already claimed pieces of her heart.
Instead, I feel... grateful. Grateful that she has others to protect her when I cannot. Grateful that she won't be alone when the weight of my absence crushes her, as it inevitably will. We immortals always outlive those we love—but perhaps, with the four of us, she'll never have to be without someone who adores her.
Diaval eventually meets us in the middle of the field as we walk back. His face is carefully blank, but I can see the remnants of fear in the tightness around his eyes, the set of his jaw. "Was that what I thought it was?" He waves his hand in the direction of the remains.
I wait for the others to walk far enough away before pulling him aside. My voice drops low, meant only for ancient ears. "It was a Wendigo. Not just any kind—it apparently had a mage in its chest, making it more powerful than your average demon." Depending on what being is possessed in its chest determines the Wendigo's strength. This one was fast, strong, relentless. Whoever sent it knew exactly what they were doing.
