For the briefest of moments, the slits of his dragon's eyes become visible. Rage and fear and something that looks almost like grief flicker across his features before he locks them away behind his usual mask of stoic indifference. "This doesn't bode well. Our little mate is being hunted by someone powerful enough or rich enough to unleash Wendigo’s." Diaval strokes his chin, watching Feray walk back to the car wrapped in the arms of both her bonded mates. "The question is why. What makes her so valuable that someone would risk the wrath of two ancients and a Kodiak to take her?"
"They are not strong enough combined to defeat the demons," I state, glancing down at my nails. There's ash beneath them—remnants of the creature I burned. "Torben is formidable, and the basilisk's venom is deadly, but against a Wendigo? They'd be killed."
"True. The basilisk has a chance if his stone gaze works on them. Our fire will destroy them, but until we claim her, our fire will burn her."
Damn Diaval, bringing up the elephant in the room. The truth I've been trying to avoid since the moment I wrapped her in flames and prayed they wouldn't consume her. "You know it's more than that. She has to accept my feather and your scale for it to work. Until then, we will only have her two hundred years, best-case scenario." My tone hits that haughty pitch I know grates on Diaval's last nerve. I do it on purpose. He wants to force my hand so he can take his time dragging out the inevitable.
Little does he know I already promised my flame that once we were safe, I would claim her. The thought sends a thrill of anticipation through me, followed quickly by a wave of anxiety. What if she changes her mind? What if the terror of today makes her reconsider? What if I'm not enough?
Diaval studies me for a long moment, those ancient eyes seeing far too much. "You've already decided," he says. It's not a question.
"I have."
Something like respect flickers in his gaze. "Good. Don't make her wait too long. Life is short for mortals—shorter still for those being hunted." We arrive back at the car faster than I intended,only to find Feray dressed in a t-shirt and leggings, leaning against the back door. My jacket is folded neatly in her arms, pressed against her chest like something precious. The sight makes my heart stutter.
"We should get back on the road. It's not safe to remain here longer than we have to."
"That's probably one of the first things I agree with you on. Load up, everyone." Diaval barks out his order, then heads to the driver's side.
"Who do you want to snuggle with, Precious?" Khal leans in and kisses her temple before backing off. There's no jealousy in his voice, no resentment. Just genuine care and the desire to give her what she needs.
She looks at me, and her wolf surfaces—those beautiful gold eyes glowing in the fading light. "Easton and Torben." Her voice wavers, and I want to rip her away from everything and everyone, to hold her until the trembling stops and she remembers how to breathe without fear. A slow smile creeps across Torben's lips as he nods knowingly. The bear sees everything, understands everything. He walks over to the driver's side and slides into the back seat, leaving room for her—and for me.
Feray looks at me, and I nod at her. Her nostrils flare for a moment—scenting me, I realize, drawing my presence into her lungs—then she climbs into the back seat in the middle. Drawing in a deep breath, I look to the heavens and throw a prayer up to the elder gods.Don't let me destroy this.I say it more to myself than anything else, a desperate plea to whatever powers might be listening.Don't let me burn her. Don't let me lose her. Don't let me be the reason she cries again.
I slide in and close the door. "We should find food. Shifting takes a lot out of me." The exhaustion hits me fully now that the adrenaline is fading, leaving me hollow and aching.
As I mention food, Feray looks down onto the floorboard and pulls up a sack. She smiles as she looks inside—and gods, that smile. After everything she's been through, after the terror and the running and the almost-dying, she's smiling because she can give me something. She pulls out a pastry, offering it to me. "It's probably not something you're used to eating, but I packed some of the honey butter crescent rolls I made for the trip in case I got hungry."
She made them. With her own hands.
Reaching out, I take the pastry from her. Our fingers brush, and I feel the contact like a brand. I watch Torben nuzzle her shoulder until she passes one out to everyone, making sure they're all fed before settling back.
"I hope everyone enjoys their snack," she says before fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt. There's something endearingly nervous about the gesture, like she's seeking approval for something so simple.
Usually, I don't indulge in sweet snacks. Phoenixes don't need to eat the way other beings do—we sustain ourselves on heat and flame and the occasional protein. Sweets are unnecessary. But there's something in the way Feray is watching me that tells me this is important. Her eyes track my every movement as I raise the pastry to my lips. I take a bite, and the decadent flavor of butter mixed with honey explodes on my tongue. The taste is extraordinary—rich and warm and utterly addicting. But more than that, it's made with care. I can taste it in every flaky layer, every drop of honey.
This isn't any average honey. "This is from the giant bee's hive, isn't it?" I take another bite. There's no mistaking the flavor of nutmeg and the tang of the honey—the signature notes of the giant bees that have killed more than one foolish shifter seeking their prize.
"It is. I harvested it the first time as my acceptance gift to Torben after all of his baskets." She blushes a brilliant shade of pink, speaking about the bear's tradition. She risked her life to harvest honey from giant bees. For her mate. Because she wanted to give him something meaningful.
This woman is going to be the death of me.
"Harvesting that honey is no simple feat." I finish the pastry and have to admit it's one of the best I've had in a long time—perhaps ever. Feray giggles as she scoots closer to me, and I angle my body so she can lean against my chest. The movement is instinctive, natural in a way that nothing has felt in centuries. She snuggles in and sighs softly, and something inside me uncoils.
This. This is what I've been missing.
Glancing up, I look at Torben, and he motions for me to wrap my arms around her. Phoenix females don't require being held—they're independent creatures, fierce and self-sufficient. But Feray isn't a phoenix. She's a wolf, a pack animal, a being that craves touch and closeness and the security of being surrounded by those she loves. The minute I do as he suggests, she wiggles slightly and relaxes further, melting into me like she was made to fit in my arms. Perhaps she was.
"It's easy to harvest the honey before the sun hits the hive. The cliff the nest was on wasn't easy to get to. Thankfully, my wolf and I are small enough to make it."
A hearty chuckle escapes Torben's lips. "You make it sound so easy, little wolf. She's being modest." He looks at me. "The rock face she's talking about is the one between her cottage and my sleuth. We've been trying for years to get that honey. I'm too heavy and way too broad to fit where she did to get to the hive." He pokes a little fun at himself, and I feel Feray shake her head against my chest.
"It wasn't that bad." She lifts her head, and I feel the loss of her weight and heat immediately. The absence aches.
I miss it. I miss her already, and she's only inches away.
"I have known those bees to kill smaller shifters," Diaval adds from the front seat, his voice carrying a note of warning.
