Chapter 12 - Reeyan
I wake on the couch with a crick in my neck and a book about territorial disputes still open on my chest. Morning sun filters through the windows, illuminating dust motes floating through the room. My first coherent thought is that I need coffee. My second is that something smells different.
Sera’s scent. Stronger than it should be from just living in my house for a few days.
I push myself upright and spot her right away.
She’s slumped over the dining table with her head pillowed on her arms, her silver-blonde hair spilling across the dark wood like moonlight.
Open texts surround her—volumes I pulled from my collection on Llewelyn pack history.
She must have come out here in the middle of the night and started reading.
The sight fills me with such affection that I have to grip the arm of the couch to keep from walking over there and gathering her up. From carrying her to bed and tucking her in instead of letting her sleep hunched over like this.
Bad idea. Terrible idea. The worst idea I’ve had since deciding to keep her here in the first place.
I stand slowly, careful not to make noise that might wake her. My wolf wants to go to her. Wants to verify she’s safe and comfortable and to curl around her and keep watch while she sleeps.
Instead, I grab the blanket from the back of the couch and cross the room as quietly as I can. She doesn’t stir when I drape it over her shoulders, or when I resist the urge to brush a strand of hair away from her face.
She looks so much less guarded when she sleeps. The reserve that defines Llewelyn women melts away, leaving her soft in a way she’d hate if she knew I was seeing it.
I force myself to retreat to my study before I do something stupid like wake her up just to see those blue eyes.
My phone sits on the desk where I left it last night, screen full of notifications. Three messages from Wyn, all marked urgent. I unlock the device and pull up the first one.
New intelligence on Thornridge movements. Review attached files and get back to me.
The attached reports make my stomach drop.
Thornridge has been conducting systematic surveillance of all three major territories in the valley.
Not just Grayhide with its Amanzite reserves, but Ambersky and Llewelyn as well.
The pattern suggests they’re mapping defenses, identifying weak points, and preparing for something much larger than isolated kidnapping attempts.
I pull up the second message. More surveillance photos show Thornridge operatives near Llewelyn borders. Not just scouting parties, but what looks like advanced reconnaissance teams. The kind you send when you’re planning an operation that requires detailed knowledge of terrain and patrol patterns.
The third message contains Wyn’s analysis, and it’s worse than I thought.
Pattern matches pre-invasion tactics from historical conflicts.
They’re not just after Amanzite. They want a staging ground for long-term operations.
Llewelyn territory makes strategic sense.
They’re isolated from the main alliance, and they have a matriarchal structure that they could exploit and an emotional disconnect that limits coordination with allies.
Plus whatever they know about the curse.
I fall back in my chair and stare at the ceiling.
Thornridge knows about the curse. Has to, based on how they targeted Sera.
A pack full of women who can’t form deep emotional bonds or trust easily would be vulnerable to infiltration.
Their suppressors could cut off the wolf-human connection that provides strength and coordination in combat.
A territory where pack members struggle to work together effectively would be easy to conquer and perfect for launching attacks on Grayhide’s Amanzite reserves.
I start drafting a report for Oren, documenting the surveillance patterns and strategic implications.
My fingers fly across the keyboard as I outline the threat assessment and potential defensive measures.
We need to increase patrols along Llewelyn borders and coordinate security with Matriarch Lydia despite her pack’s traditional isolation.
Need to make sure Sera understands just how much danger her people are in.
“You fell asleep on the couch.”
I nearly jump out of my skin. Sera stands in the doorway with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape. Her hair is tangled in directions that shouldn’t be endearing but absolutely are. Sleep marks crease one cheek, and she’s squinting at me like the morning sun is too much to handle.
“I was working,” I explain. “Research doesn’t keep regular hours.”
“Don’t I know it.” She walks into the study and peers at my computer screen. “What’s that?”
“Intelligence reports from Wyn. Seems there’s been Thornridge activity near your territory.”
Her whole body goes rigid. “Show me.”
I pull up the surveillance photos and watch her face as she studies them. The color drains from her cheeks more with each image.
“That’s the eastern border.” She points to one photo. “Near the exchange station where we process visitors. And that’s the northern patrol route. They’ve mapped our entire defensive perimeter.”
“Looks that way.”
“Why? We don’t have Amanzite. We don’t have anything they’d want.” She wraps the blanket tighter around herself. “Unless…”
“Unless they want a staging ground for operations against Grayhide,” I finish the thought she can’t quite voice.
“A territory that’s isolated from the main alliance.
Where pack members struggle to coordinate because of emotional disconnect.
Where suppressors could exploit weakened wolf-human bonds. ”
“Because of the curse,” she muses. “They’re targeting my pack because we’re vulnerable in ways other territories aren’t.”
“That’s my assessment, yes.”
She sinks into the chair across from my desk. The blanket pools around her like she’s drowning in fabric. “My aunt needs to know. The council needs to mobilize defenses.”
“Wyn’s coordinating with Oren to arrange a meeting.
All three pack leaders are discussing joint security measures.
” I close the laptop before she can see more of the grim details.
“They’ll handle the strategic response. Our job is figuring out how to break the curse so your pack isn’t vulnerable anymore. ”
“Our job. When did this become our job instead of just mine?”
“You’re my mate. Keeping you safe is more important than anything else. Besides, your pack’s survival is tangled up with mine.”
The admission is too much like admitting I care about her more than I should after less than a week.
Her phone goes off, and she pulls it out of her pocket before she reads the screen, and I watch her face carefully mask whatever she’s feeling.
“My sister, Caelan.” She shows me the message. “Asking for more details about the project. Wants to know when I’m coming home.”
“What do you want to tell her?”
She sets the phone down and pulls the blanket tighter. “The truth would be a nice change of pace. That I’m investigating a curse that’s been destroying our pack for three centuries, and Thornridge is planning something terrible. That I’m trapped here until we get this all straightened out.”
“Do you want to leave?”
The question comes out before I can stop it, sounding desperate and needy in ways I didn’t intend.
She meets my eyes for the first time since entering the study. “I don’t know what I want anymore. Everything I thought I knew is wrong. Everything I believed about myself and my pack was built on lies. How am I supposed to know what I want when I don’t even know who I am?”
“You’re Sera Thornwick.” I lean forward, needing her to hear this.
“Llewelyn archivist. The woman who fought trained operatives even after they cut her off from her wolf. Someone brave enough to chase answers even when the truth terrified her. That hasn’t changed just because you learned about the curse. ”
“Hasn’t it?” She looks down at her hands. “Everything that makes me Llewelyn is the curse. The reserve, the independence, and the emotional control. Take that away, and what’s left?”
“You. Just you. Without magical chains wrapped around your heart telling you what to feel and how to act.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. Then she picks up her phone again and starts typing.
“What are you saying?” I ask.
“The truth. Sort of.” She shows me the draft message after a moment.
I’m working with Grayhide’s historian on a historical research project under an inter-regional agreement. We’re investigating potential supernatural threats that affect multiple territories. Will return when the investigation is complete. Everything is fine.
“That’s technically accurate.”
“It’s also misleading as hell about what’s actually happening.” She deletes the last sentence and rewrites it.
Everything is complicated, but I’m safe. Will explain more when I can.
I watch her thumb hover over the send button. “Your sister’s going to have questions.”
“She always has questions. Caelan doesn’t accept vague answers.” Sera hits send before she can second-guess herself. “But at least this way, I’m not outright lying to her.”
“Just lying by omission.”
“Welcome to pack politics. Sometimes that’s the best you can do.
” She tosses her phone on the desk and adds, “I’ve been reading your books all night.
It’s easier to understand since I know the theory now.
Breaking this curse will require enormous magical power and someone from inside the bloodline who’s developed abilities despite the suppression. ”
“You’ve been thorough.”
“I’m an archivist. Being thorough is literally my job.” She moves closer to the desk, and I catch her scent—winter mornings and her pheromones, which make my wolf sit up and whine. “What I don’t understand is why the mate bond triggered my abilities when nothing else did. Why you?”
I shrug and answer, “I don’t know. Maybe the bond itself provides power that cracks the curse’s hold. Magic isn’t exactly my area of expertise. I document patterns and analyze historical precedents. The mechanics of supernatural bonds are outside my wheelhouse.”
“But you understand enough to know we need to work together on this.” She reaches across the desk for one of the documents I’ve been reviewing. “That whatever happens next, we’re in it together, whether we planned it or not.”
“Yes.”
Her hand brushes mine as she picks up the paper. Just a brief contact, skin on skin for maybe half a second.
And that’s all it takes for the mate bond to explode between us.
Not the gentle pull I’ve felt since rescuing her. Not the faint awareness that’s been building steadily over the past few days. This is something different. Something primal and overwhelming.
Heat rushes through my body. Every nerve ending fires at once. My wolf rushes forward with such force that I actually feel it beneath my sternum.
Sera gasps. Her pupils dilate until only a thin ring of pale blue remains. The paper in her hand falls back to the desk, forgotten.
We stare at each other across the scattered documents and intelligence reports. Neither of us moves. Neither of us speaks. Neither of us seems capable of doing anything except feeling the bond pulse between us with enough power to shake the foundation of everything we thought we understood.
My hands ache to reach for her. To pull her across this desk and finally claim what my wolf has been screaming belongs to us since the moment I saw her fighting for her life on that desert road.
But I don’t move. Can’t move. Because if I touch her right now, I won’t stop. I won’t be able to control what happens next. And she deserves better than being claimed in my study because the mate bond decided to stop being subtle and start being undeniable.
But fuck, if I don’t want to bend her over my desk and take her here and now.