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, undeniably mine.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 had woven 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 still mine.
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.
"Nothing," he reported. "No sign of Broken Ridge pack within two valleys. If they're following, they're being cautious about it."
Some of the tension in my shoulders eased. "Good. We'll keep watch tonight anyway. They were aggressive enough to attack unprovoked and they definitely didn’t like us interfering. I won't assume they've given up."
Fen nodded and glanced toward where the strangers sat by their fire. "Those humans are strange, Rivik. Have you noticed their clothes?"
"I've noticed." I'd been trying not to notice, actually, because noticing meant looking at her.
But he was right, their garments were bizarre.
Colours too bright and even, like flower petals or river stones, and they were too smooth, too thin, with a texture unlike any hide I'd ever worked.
"I think they might be from the far south.
I've heard of clans down there who use beaten plant fibers to make clothing. "
"Maybe." Fen didn't sound convinced. "But their language is wrong too. I know some words in six different tongues from the gatherings, and I've never heard anything like what they speak."
“Two of them are definitely wolf shifters,” said Jarak. “I saw them shift when we showed up, but their wolf spirits are strangely small.”
“Are the other two human then? In a wolf pack?” Torin frowned. “I know we’ve got Daska, but at least he’s a shifter. Having even one human in a pack is just wrong…”I shot Torin a look that carried more warning than I intended. "Careful."
He had the grace to look uncomfortable. "I didn't mean... Daska's different, he's earned his place ten times over. But these people..."
"These people were being attacked by Broken Ridge when we found them," I said, keeping my voice level. "One male was already dead, I saw the body. Karik's wolves were trying to take their females by force. Whatever else they are, they didn't deserve that."
Silence fell around the fire. Broken Ridge pack was infamous across the territories for their treatment of females; forcing matings, ignoring the sacred right of choice the Great Mother had granted all female wolves.
It was an abomination. Our pack, like most others, honoured the old ways.
Females chose their mates freely, and no male had the right to force a bond.
The idea of her in their hands, subject to their brutality...
My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached.
"We'd never have left them," Jarak said quietly. "No one's saying that."
"Good." I turned the spit again, watching fat sizzle and pop. "Because we didn't, and now we need to figure out what to do with them."
"The alpha makes me nervous," Miska said, settling cross-legged near the fire and warming his hands. "He's jumpy. Keeps watching us like he expects us to turn on them at any moment. And he holds that branch like he's going to beat someone to death with it."
"Can you blame him?" I turned the meat again, checking the colour. "His pack lost their camp, they've had no sleep, they lost one of their own and now they're injured and surrounded by strangers who speak a different language. He's doing what any good alpha should do. Protecting his people."
"That's fair. The other female is very quiet.
I'm not certain what to make of her yet.
But the injured male seems amenable enough.
And the injured female..." He paused, a small smile crossing his face.
"She's strong. Jarak was watching her during the march.
Said she never complained once, even though her leg was clearly paining her.
And she kept checking on the others, making sure they were managing. "
Something warm settled in my chest at that. Of course she did. She cares for her pack.
I let my gaze drift back to the smaller fire.
Daska had finished tending her wound. She was wrapped in his furs now, her lower half hidden beneath the thick pelts, and something hot and irrational surged through me at the sight.
His furs. His scent on her skin. The rational part of my mind knew it was practical.
Her strange clothing had been soaked through with blood and river water, and Daska would have needed access to the wound.
But my wolf spirit didn't care about logic.
It scented another male's scent on my mate, another male's furs against her skin, and it wanted to tear those furs away and replace them with my own, wanted my scent on her instead, wanted…
My wolf spirit snarled, low and possessive, and I had to physically clench my jaw to keep the sound from escaping my throat.
I closed my eyes and breathed through it.
It faded slightly, into something that wasn’t quite anger, but something quieter and more painful.
A sharp ache in my chest that came from watching my oldest friend care for my mate while I stood by the fire and pretended not to feel anything at all.
He's helping her. He's doing exactly what you asked him to do.
That didn't make it hurt less.
I cut several thick slices from the haunch and laid them on a flat stone, letting the juices pool and steam. I'd bring food to the strangers, all of them, not just her. That was the duty of a host, nothing more. An alpha providing for those under his temporary protection.
I picked up the stone and walked toward the smaller fire, keeping my stride even, my expression neutral. Just an alpha checking on his charges.