Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
Iwake to unfamiliar softness, my body cradled in furs that smell of earth and stone and him.
Ryker. My mate. The claiming mark on my throat pulses with his power, a constant reminder of our bond.
Sunlight filters through crystal formations in the ceiling, casting rainbow patterns across the stone walls of our den.
Our den. The thought still feels foreign—like a secret I’ve stolen and will eventually be punished for keeping.
I reach for Ryker but find cooling furs beside me. The events of last night rush back, and I remember his amused rumble as I’d struggled to keep my eyes open, his lips brushing my forehead as he’d tucked me against his chest.
“Rest,” he’d murmured. “You are safe here, little wolf.”
Now I stretch, taking inventory of my body. The aches from the claiming have faded, leaving only a pleasant soreness in muscles unused to such exertion.
I roll and close my eyes, sinking back into the furs only to feel a tickle in the back of my mind. A whisper-light touch that stirs my she-wolf.
What is it? I ask her, unsure.
Our mate. Feel him.
I keep my eyes closed, following the whisper. We walk together, my wolf and I, along pathways where Ryker’s voice grows stronger, his presence more clear.
Is this normal? I ask my wolf.
This is the way of all wolves.
But it wasn’t in our old pack.
She shakes her head, letting out a whining growl that articulates clearly what she thinks of our previous pack.
We move along and suddenly all the whispers and white noise snap into focus.
I startle, sitting up as a hundred voices dance in my head.
….need to order more apples for pie…
…have you seen my red socks?
…homework is late again, you’ll…
Kitara.
I stiffen, hearing Ryker as loudly as if he were beside me. The other voices abruptly disappear, until it’s just me and him.
You’re oversharing. I’m closing you off from the pack to protect your secrets from them. He sounds amused. Eat and dress. I’ll meet you once my morning brief is complete.
Yes, Alpha.
His displeasure rolls toward me with the swiftness of a wave, crashing into me.
Ryker, he corrects. I am never Alpha to you.
Our connection weakens, leaving me alone in our bed. I slip from under the covers to find a soft robe laid out. The material feels rich against my skin, nothing like the threadbare hand-me-downs I’d been provided in the Silvercrest Pack.
The main chamber beyond the bedroom is empty, but evidence of Ryker’s morning remains—a cup on the stone table, maps spread across its surface, markers showing territories and borders.
Looking closer, I see they’re planning documents, defensive positions marked in what looks like dried blood rather than ink.
War preparations.
I’m studying them when the door scrapes open. I turn, expecting Ryker, but instead find a tall female with copper-auburn hair and striking amber eyes. She carries a tray of food, steam rising from a bowl that fills the air with savory aromas that make my stomach growl embarrassingly loud.
“Oh!” She startles slightly upon seeing me, then recovers with a formal nod. “Alpha Female. I didn’t realize you were awake.”
The title makes me tense. “Please, call me Kitara.”
She hesitates, clearly torn between protocol and my request. “I’m Nora.
The Alpha asked me to bring you breakfast and show you around.
” She sets the tray down, keeping a respectful distance.
Unlike Lithia’s open hostility, Nora’s manner is carefully neutral—professional courtesy rather than personal welcome.
“Thank you.” I approach the table as she arranges the meal. “Where is Ry—the Alpha?”
“Patrolling the borders with the enforcers.” She doesn’t look up as she works. “After last night’s attack, he’s strengthening our defenses.”
My fingers find the claiming mark automatically. Through our bond, I can sense Ryker’s presence—distant but focused, alert, his attention focused on pack business and constant awareness of me.
“How many died in the attack?” I ask quietly.
Nora’s hands pause. “None of ours. Many of theirs.” Her amber eyes finally meet mine. “Thanks to your warning.”
The memory of the tunnel vision returns—blood and silver. “It wasn’t—”
“It was exactly what we needed,” she interrupts, her tone firm. “The Alpha explained what happened.”
I duck my head, uncomfortable with the implication that I had somehow saved them. My visions have always been treated as a tool at best, a burden at worst. Never as something worthy of gratitude.
Nora gestures to the food. “You should eat. The Alpha was clear about keeping up your strength.” Her eyes flick to the claiming mark, then away. “He said your gift drains you.”
I sit, aware of the hollow feeling in my stomach. The meal is simple but hearty, some kind of sweet oat mix with chunks of fruit and berries. I take a tentative bite and have to stifle a moan at the explosion of flavor.
“This is delicious,” I manage between bites.
Nora’s expression softens fractionally. “Marta is our cook. She insists on only the best produce.” She watches me eat with a thoughtful expression. “The Alpha said you’re to have your own quarters prepared, if you wish.”
I nearly choke on my mouthful. “My own quarters?”
“Adjacent to his, of course.” She tilts her head. “Is that not customary in your old pack? For the female to have her personal space?”
I set down my spoon, gathering my thoughts. In the Silvercrest Pack, females—especially claimed ones—had no such luxury. They were expected to be available to their mates at all times, their personal space limited to whatever corner they could carve out in their mate’s den.
As for me, I was offered a small room in the rear of Varick’s house. It had been big enough for a small pallet on the floor, and one bedside table filled with my clothes. I’d owned three books, none of which I could read, and nothing else.
“No,” I admit. “It isn’t customary.”
A look of pity passes across Nora’s face before it’s quickly masked. “Shadowmist ways are different. The Alpha Female has her own territory, just as the Alpha has his.” She moves toward a doorway I hadn’t noticed before. “Would you like to see the space?”
I finish eating then follow her through a short corridor at the rear of our den, emerging into a chamber that takes my breath away. Like Ryker’s rooms, it’s built into the natural rock formation, but where his quarters are masculine, this space is infinitely feminine.
A bed smaller than Ryker’s but still luxurious rests against one wall.
Shelves have been carved directly into the stone, holding books, crystals, and what look like scrying tools.
A natural skylight brings in streams of sunlight, while a small waterfall trickles down one wall into a basin, the sound soothing and peaceful.
“This is…” I start, then stop, overwhelmed.
“It hasn’t been used in some time,” Nora explains, running a hand along one of the shelves. “Not since the Alpha’s mother.”
“His mother lived here?” I ask, surprised.
Nora nods. “The Alpha will tell you about her in time, I’m sure.”
I step farther into the room, drawn to a small alcove where a silver bowl rests on a raised stone platform. The bowl’s interior is polished to a mirror finish, its rim etched with symbols I don’t recognize.
“A scrying basin,” Nora explains, keeping her distance. “For focused visions.”
I barely resist the urge to touch it, feeling the latent power humming from its surface. “Ryker’s mother used this?”
“No, our previous seer, Cheyenne, did.”
“Is she alive?”
Nora chuckles. “No. She was old before I was born. She passed when I was but a few summers old.” She touches the bowl.
“But I remember her. She had a kind spirit, and when she wanted to see specific things rather than wait for visions to come naturally she used these tools.” Nora gestures to the books.
“Her journals are there as well. I’m sure the Alpha would want you to have them. ”
My heart stutters at the thought, the pleasure of this room quickly shadowed by shame.
I’d never been taught to read. Knowledge had always been kept just out of reach, a tool wielded against me rather than gifted freely.
And my visions weren’t seen as a trainable skill, they’d simply been ripped from me when needed, leaving me to deal with the aftermath alone.
The idea that there might be guidance, methods, even a community of knowledge around seers leaves me dizzy with possibility, and wretched with shame at yet another of my failings.
“All these are mine?” I ask, running my fingers along the spines of the ancient books.
“This is your space,” Nora confirms. “But you’ll continue to share the Alpha’s chambers. He was quite clear about that.” There’s something in her tone, not quite judgment, not quite amusement. “The library is yours to use as you wish. A place for study and reflection.”
I nod, overwhelmed by this bounty.
“Thank you for showing me,” I say, my voice thick with emotion.
Nora inclines her head. “The Alpha said you’ll begin training today to strengthen your control.”
“Training?”
“He believes your gift can be honed, like any other weapon.” She reaches down to fluff a pillow on the bed. “We’ve never had a seer who couldn’t shift. It will be interesting to see what you’re capable of.”
The words aren’t unkind, merely factual. But in them, I hear what she doesn’t say.
Prove your worth. Show us why our Alpha chose you.
I lift my chin. “When do we start?”
“As soon as you’re ready.” Ryker’s voice fills the chamber, and I turn to find him leaning against the doorway, watching us with those mismatched eyes. His body still carries the wild energy of the forest, like he’s brought part of the hunt back with him.
Nora lowers her gaze, tilting her head to expose her neck in deference. “Alpha.”
“Thank you, Nora, you may leave us.”