But watching Maris stand alone in the clearing, her shoulders squared with false bravado, is agony. Every muscle in my body is coiled tight, ready to spring forward the moment she needs me. My claws dig into the earth beneath my feet, and I have to bite back a growl when I see her hands trembling at her sides.
She's trying to look calm, confident, like she belongs here and has every right to walk through these woods. But I can smell her fear, sharp and metallic in the crisp autumn air. It makes my fur stand on end, makes the protective instincts I've been fighting surge to the surface with renewed force.
The voices are getting closer. Too close. I can make out individual words now—crude jokes, complaints about the cold, speculation about tracks they might have seen. My mate standsperfectly still in the dappled sunlight, and I've never been more torn between two impossible choices.
Stay hidden and let her face whatever comes alone, or reveal myself and make her a target.
Either way, I might lose her.
CHAPTER 14
Gray
The men emergefrom the treeline, and I count four of them—different faces than the ones who captured her before, but the same hungry look in their eyes. The same weapons at their sides. My claws extend involuntarily, digging deeper furrows in the soil.
Maris doesn't run. She doesn't even step backward. Instead, she draws herself up to her full height—which isn't much compared to these men, but there's something regal about the way she holds herself that makes her seem larger.
"You're trespassing," she says, her voice carrying clearly through the forest air.
One of the men laughs, a harsh sound that makes my ears flatten. "Trespassing? This is God's forest, witch. You're the one who doesn't belong."
"Am I?" Maris tilts her head, and there's something almost predatory in the gesture that makes pride surge in my chest. "Because the beast that protects these woods seems to think differently."
The men exchange glances, their easy confidence faltering. Good. Let them be afraid.
"You admit it then," another one says, trying to regain his bravado. "You consort with monsters."
Maris smiles, and it's not a pleasant expression. "Consort? Such a small word for what we share." She spreads her arms wide, encompassing the forest around her. "You think you can hunt here? You think you can threaten what's mine?"
My heart swells with fierce pride even as terror claws at my throat. She's magnificent, my mate. Brilliant and brave and utterly fearless in the face of men who could kill her without a second thought. But this is the best plan she could come up with? Making herself seem more dangerous, more connected to me than she already appears? Before, they only thought I cared for her, and they sliced her with a knife and tied her to a tree. If they know we’re connected—consortingas they call it—there is no telling what they will do.
"Call off your creature," the first man demands, but his hand is shaking where it rests on his weapon. "Remove your curse from our village, and we might let you live."
"My curse?" Maris laughs, a sound like breaking glass. "You think what's been happening to your people is my doing? You think I'm the one you should fear?"
She steps forward, and amazingly, the men step back.
"I don't curse people," she continues, her voice dropping to something barely above a whisper. "I don't need to. I simply... ask. And my guardian is very good at listening."
No. No, Maris, don't do this. Don't make yourself a bigger target than you already are.
But I can see the strategy in it, even through my panic. She's making them think she has more power than she does, making them believe that hurting her would bring down something farworse than they're prepared to handle. It's clever. It might even work.
But it also paints her as exactly the kind of threat they're here to eliminate.
"If you leave now," Maris says softly, "and if you convince your friends to stop hunting in these woods, then perhaps I won't mention your visit to my companion. Perhaps I won't describe how you threatened me. How you made me... upset."
As if summoned by her words, I let out a low, rumbling growl from the shadows. Quiet enough that they might think they imagined it, but just audible enough to raise the hair on the backs of their necks.
The effect is immediate. One of the men goes pale, another's hand flies to his crossbow. But they don't flee, and my stomach drops. They're scared, yes, but not scared enough.
Not yet. I can help with that.
I watch the men's faces, see the fear warring with stubborn pride, and know that words alone won't be enough. Maris has done brilliantly, but these are the kind of men who will only believe in power they can see and feel.
Moving as silently as I can, I circle around behind them, using every skill I've learned after years of avoiding human contact. The forest is my domain, and I know exactly where to step to avoid the dried leaves that would crackle underfoot, which branches to avoid that might scrape against my fur.
When I'm positioned directly behind the group, I let out another growl - louder this time, closer. The sound rumbles from deep in my chest, a warning that any creature with sense would heed.
