Chapter 9 #2
Daska looked up as I approached, and something shifted in his posture.
A low growl met me before I'd closed half the distance.
I stopped, stunned. Daska was looking up at me from his crouch beside her, and there was something in his eyes I'd never seen directed at me before.
Warning. His bear spirit flickered behind his gaze, close to the surface, protective in a way that went beyond healer's instinct.
Irritation flared hot beneath my ribs. He'd noticed my interest. Of course he had. Daska missed nothing.
The female looked up too, and her eyes met mine.
I nearly stumbled. She was beautiful. I'd known that in an abstract way, but seeing her in the firelight, she was mesmerising.
Her dark hair caught the flames' glow, and her dark eyes held a depth of exhaustion and pain and stubborn strength that made something in my chest ache.
She'd been through so much, was still going through it, and she hadn't broken.
Probably wouldn't break, ever.
The furs had slipped slightly, revealing the curve of her thigh. I imagined running my hand along that skin, feeling her warmth, pulling her close...
Stop. Don't think about that.
I ignored him, crouching down and offering her the food, keeping my movements slow and unthreatening.
"The male will recover?"
"Yes. The break was clean. I set it properly. Just needs time and care." Daska paused, and when he spoke again his tone was pointed. "She's stubborn. Should have asked for help hours ago."
"She's strong," I corrected quietly.
"That too." Daska's expression softened slightly.
"How is her leg?" I asked, not taking my eyes off her.
"Worse than I thought." His voice was tight. "Infection's setting in, but I caught it early. I've used most of my traveling supplies on her and the male. I'll need to get into my full stores at home if she needs more treatment."
Concern washed through me.
The female was watching our exchange with obvious frustration, unable to understand. I could see her trying to read our body language, our tones, piecing together what she could from context.
Intelligent. Observant.
I reached out before I could stop myself and gently tilted her face up to meet my eyes. Her skin was soft under my fingers, warm despite the cold, and the bond flared at the contact like someone had stoked a fire in my chest.
"You need to take better care of yourself," I said, knowing she couldn't understand the words but hoping my tone conveyed concern. "Let us help you."
Her lips parted slightly, her eyes widening. For a moment we just stared at each other, and I could have sworn I saw something like recognition flash across her face. Like she felt it too, this impossible pull between us.
I wanted to kiss her. Wanted it with a desperation that bordered on pain. Wanted to lean down and claim her mouth and taste her and show her without words that she was safe now, that I would protect her, that she was...
Unsuitable. Impossible. Wrong for the pack.
I forced myself to pull back, breaking the contact. My hand felt cold without her skin under it.
My mother had told me once that physical touch reinforced and strengthened the mate bond.
That's why newly mated pairs were encouraged to take several days away from the pack after bonding, to indulge in as much physical contact as possible, to cement the connection that would sustain them through a lifetime.
She'd smiled when she said it, remembering her own mating to my father.
Most females returned from those bonding days pregnant, she'd added.
Though that was becoming less common now, with so few wolves finding their mates and our numbers slowly dwindling.
The image flashed through my mind unbidden. The female soft and round with my pup growing inside her. Her hands resting on her swollen belly while I pressed close, protecting both of them from the world.
But I couldn't give in. Couldn't let myself get closer because as Torin had voiced, wolf packs didn’t take in humans, and announcing a human mate at the summer gathering would be disaster.
The thought made my stomach turn.
The gathering happened every year when the herds returned north.
One moon cycle when all the packs in the region came together to trade, share news, settle disputes, and reinforce alliances.
It was critical for survival. No pack could thrive alone.
We needed those connections, those trade relationships, those carefully maintained bonds of respect and cooperation.
They already talked about us because of Daska, gossiping about how we'd broken tradition, about how bears didn't belong in wolf packs.
It didn't matter that Daska contributed more than most full-blooded wolves.
It didn't matter that he'd earned his place ten times over as our healer.
He wasn't wolf, and that made some alphas nervous.
But Daska was a shifter still, and he maintained a low rank within our pack. A human as the mate of the alpha, that was different.
This was the kind of thing that invited challenges.
I thought of Karik. He'd been testing boundaries for years, probing for weakness, making subtle moves to expand his territory at our expense. He was ambitious and ruthless, always looking for an opening. If he thought I was distracted by an unsuitable mate, if he sensed weakness...
He'd challenge me. Formally, at the gathering where everyone could see.
And if he won, if he killed me and claimed leadership, my pack would be absorbed into his. Our territory divided. Our wolves scattered or subjugated. Everything my father had built, everything I'd spent ten years protecting, gone.
You can't risk them. Not even for her.
The thought sat like ash in my mouth.
But there were other consequences too. Alliances that depended on mutual respect and perceived strength.
Trade agreements that could dissolve if other packs decided we were too strange, too other, too willing to break with tradition.
We couldn't survive a winter without those trade networks.
Couldn't protect our territory without allied packs willing to help defend borders.
One unsuitable mate could cost them everything.
My wolf spirit snarled at the thought. She's OURS. The Great Mother chose her for us. She's perfect.
Maybe she was. Maybe the Great Mother had her reasons for binding me to a human. But that didn't change the political reality I lived in. Which meant I absolutely could not touch her again.
I stood quickly, stepping back, putting distance between us. Daska was watching me.
"We need to move at first light," I said, my voice rougher than intended. "Can they travel?"
"The female can if we keep the pace moderate. The male will need the stretcher for several more days at least." Daska hesitated. "Rivik..."
"I’ve assigned night watches, but I haven’t included you in the shift pattern. I assume you’ll be up checking on these two anyway," I interrupted, not wanting to hear whatever he was about to say. "I'll take first watch. We'll rotate every few hours. Everyone's exhausted and everyone needs sleep."
I turned and walked away before he could respond, before I could look at her again, before I could do something stupid like sit down beside her and refuse to leave.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of necessary tasks.
I consulted with Torin and Jarak about tomorrow's route, choosing a path that would take us through easier terrain.
It would be slower, but manageable for the packmates carrying the stretcher.
And for her. I assigned watch rotations, making sure my strongest wolves got the middle shifts when everyone would be deepest asleep and most vulnerable.
Checked on my pack, making sure everyone had eaten and tended their gear and knew their responsibilities.
Being alpha meant carrying the weight of every decision.
Meant always thinking three steps ahead, always preparing for threats that might never come.
It meant putting the pack first, always.
Even when every instinct was now screaming at me to put her first.
As darkness settled fully over the camp, I shifted into wolf form and padded to the edge of our perimeter. The watch position gave me a clear view of the camp while keeping me separate from it, which was exactly what I needed.
My wolf form was large even by alpha standards.
Grey and silver with darker markings along my spine and shoulders.
Built for endurance and power rather than speed, made for protecting territory and defending the pack.
In this form, my senses sharpened. I could hear every breath from the sleeping wolves, smell the smoke from the dying fires, track the movement of small creatures through the underbrush.
And I could watch her without anyone questioning it.
She lay by the smaller fire, wrapped in Daska's furs, her injured leg positioned carefully. Even in sleep, she seemed tense. Still on guard even in unconsciousness.
What happened to you? I wondered. What did you survive before we found you?
I didn't understand it, couldn't interpret what I was sensing, but it felt like loss. Like grief. She'd been hurt. Badly. And not by anything physical.
My wolf spirit wanted to go to her. Wanted to curl around her and keep her warm and safe and show her that nothing would hurt her again. The urge was so strong I actually took two steps toward her before I caught myself.
No. You can't.
I needed guidance. Needed to talk to the elders, to hear their wisdom about this impossible situation.
My mother would have known what to do—she'd been wise about matters of the heart and the bond.
But she'd passed three winters ago, and my father had followed her within the year, his heart simply giving out from the grief.
I had Elder Sira, though. She'd been alive longer than anyone could remember, had seen more matings and bonds than anyone in the pack. She might have heard of something like this before. Might know if there was precedent, or wisdom, or any path forward that didn't end in disaster.
Until then, I needed to stay away. Needed to avoid touching her, avoid being alone with her, avoid anything that might strengthen a bond that shouldn't exist.
Help her pack recover, then send them away. That was the only solution that protected everyone.
It'll hurt, I acknowledged. When she leaves, it'll hurt. But if no bond can strengthen and form completely, it won't destroy me. It'll be bearable.
I wanted to believe that.
The night deepened. The camp settled into true sleep, just the soft sounds of breathing and shifting bodies and the crack of logs in the fires. I paced the perimeter, checking scents on the wind, listening for anything out of place.
When my watch ended and Torin came to relieve me, I should have gone to my own sleeping area. Should have curled up with the rest of the pack and gotten what rest I could before dawn.
Instead I found myself padding back toward the smaller fire.
They were all asleep. The alpha and his mate on one side, the small female curled near the injured male's stretcher, Daska on the opposite side. And her, there in the middle, vulnerable in sleep.
Wrong. That was all wrong.
Before I could think better of it, I lowered myself to the ground between her and everyone else, careful not to touch her. If anything threatened during the night, it would have to go through me first.
Just for tonight, I told myself. Just to make sure she's safe. Tomorrow you'll keep your distance.
But even as I thought it, I knew I was lying.
The bond hummed between us, content now that I was close.
My wolf spirit settled, satisfied in a way it hadn't been all day.
And despite everything, despite all the reasons this was impossible, all the ways it could destroy everything I'd built, lying here beside her felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Mine, my wolf spirit whispered, and this time I didn't argue.
I would figure out the politics tomorrow. Would seek Elder Sira's guidance, would make the hard strategic decisions an alpha had to make.
But tonight, I would keep her safe.
Tonight, she was mine to protect.