Chapter 6
Ravik
I began assessing our safety from the moment we stepped into the guest suite.
The Nightstar Flight were allies in the most traditional sense, but being under their roof came with risks.
I tracked Gracie as she moved about, her attention drifting over a space that was entirely too polished.
The room was a mix of dark stone and glass stretching across the far wall of the living area.
One entrance. One exit. No balconies.
I didn’t like that.
I might not have officially taken on the role of Alpha for the Ironsun Pack yet, but I didn’t do well in territory that wasn’t mine. And I liked relying on other Alphas even less.
We just didn’t have a choice.
“Well, this is nice,” Elowen said as she walked down a narrow hallway. “Looks like the bedrooms are split. Three this way and—”
“Three over here!” Thornar called back.
Gracie was still studying the carefully arranged furniture in the common area. Low seating at the center, open space on all sides.
Comfortable enough for most. Not for her. And not for me.
“You doing alright?” Banthor asked, approaching from my right. Despite his usual easy disposition, he was on edge—especially with his mate here.
“Not entirely,” I said. “I’m surprised you came.”
“Are you actually, though?” he mused, his gaze tracking Elowen, who’d joined Gracie in the sitting room.
“No,” I admitted. “I suppose not.” I glanced at him. “Are you two finally going to figure your shit out?”
My brother went still. I felt his wolf shift just beneath the surface, bristling at the comment—at anything that touched on him and his mate. When he finally looked away and shrugged, I had my answer.
The delay wasn’t on his side.
“I could ask why you haven’t marked Gracie yet,” he said, his voice edged with irritation. “But I won’t.”
I didn’t respond. I had no interest in killing my brother today, and the idea of anyone speaking about Gracie like that, about her being claimed, was enough to push me.
“Our bond isn’t typical,” I said instead. “It was sudden. Unexpected. I’m not rushing her.” And I wasn’t letting her go.
In the short time we’d spent together, something in me had locked into place—protective and possessive in a way that left no room for doubt. Lux mea. Everything about her was mine to guard.
Thornfell would change for her after the war. I would make sure of it.
“Fair,” Banthor muttered, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Elowen and I are heading to the archives during dinner. We’re not needed at the dinner, so we’ll get a lay of the land. Start pulling information.”
Elowen stepped up beside him. “He’ll take ritual history and political context. I’ll focus on magic. The gods. Anything tied to Nyxarra.”
“I feel bad you’re working already,” Gracie said as she approached, slipping her hand into mine. “You just got here. You should rest.”
Elowen smiled. “This is rest.”
As the two of them left, I looked down at Gracie and tipped her chin up. Her cheeks flushed, soft pink spreading across her skin.
“You should rest before dinner. I’ll talk to the others about security.”
“We do have time before dinner,” she agreed, her gaze dropping briefly to my mouth.
A low rumble built in my chest.
I nodded toward the bedrooms. “Go. Before I get distracted, lux mea.”
Her flush deepened as she slipped from my grasp with a small smile. I held my position, forcing myself to stay put.
“Do we think Alpha Haiden is actually going to make a decision over dinner?” Thornar asked.
I considered that.
During our conversation as Alpha Haiden led us to the guest suite, she kept her cards close to the vest. She acknowledged why we were here—the situation, the rumors—but didn’t commit beyond that.
So would she decide over dinner? Or would we need to push, even disclosing our issues with The Eight? Possibly. Or she’d drag it out.
More politics. More delay.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “She may want more time.”
“Could be a power play,” Basir agreed.
“Either way,” Thornar drawled, “I want to sweep the area near the dining room. Outside the property too.” He shrugged. “I trust them as much as I trust any of our allies.”
Which wasn’t much.
“I’ll come with,” Basir said. “I want to see the kitchen.”
Even if we found nothing, the message mattered: we were watching. It was usually enough to make people think twice before doing something stupid.
“Don’t take long,” I said. “Gracie will worry.”
They left a moment later, silence settling over the suite as the door shut behind them. I moved before I thought about it. Gracie shouldn’t be alone.
Following the pull of our bond, I stepped inside one of the bedrooms down the hall. The door had been left cracked and I found my mate immediately, afternoon light catching in her bright red hair.
Gracie sat on the edge of the bed with her back to me, her posture curved as if she carried something too heavy to set down. Her head was bowed, her earlier curiosity gone.
Through our bond, I felt confusion.
Given what she’d been through, I couldn’t blame her. The image of her seizing on the jet surfaced without warning: her body locking, her breath uneven, something tearing through her that I couldn’t stop.
I could control almost everything…except for the god trying to reach her in her own damn head.
Taking another step inside, I let the door close softly behind me. Gracie turned and looked up at me, warmth filling her gaze in a way I had come to recognize.
Slowly crossing the room, I knelt on the floor in front of her, bringing my face nearly level with hers.
“Ravik,” she whispered, her cheeks turning a soft pink.
My hand lifted, slow and deliberate, as I closed the distance between us. Cupping her cheek, my thumb brushed along the high arch of her cheekbone. She didn’t flinch from my touch, or any of our touches anymore. She leaned into it instead, her eyes slipping closed.
Mine.
The thought was unavoidable. Primal yet…certain. Gracie was mine.
Her breath hitched as I lifted my other hand to mirror the first, framing her face.
I held her there, steady between my palms, and let my gaze move over her.
At some point since coming in here, she’d changed to accommodate for the warmer weather.
The heavier fabric she’d worn earlier was gone, replaced with lounge shorts and a thin tank that left her shoulders bare, the line of her collarbone exposed.
A beam of sunlight lit her skin, catching along the left side of her neck, sliding over her collarbone and down the slope of her shoulder. There the light revealed something I hadn’t seen before.
Scars.
They weren’t clean. The skin along the left side of her body was uneven, warped where it had healed from an obvious burn. Some areas pulled tight, others rough and ridged, the faint sheen catching the light differently than the rest of her skin.
This hadn’t been a surface injury.
My jaw tightened as the realization settled. Someone had done this to her on purpose. It hadn’t been an accident—not a fucking chance. My fingers pressed slightly firmer against her cheeks before I forced the tension back, keeping my touch consistent. The anger didn’t fade, though.
I would find out who did it.
Lux mea felt the emotion through our bond. Her eyes opened, searching my face. “What?” she murmured, suddenly nervous.
“Your scars,” I said, my voice low and controlled. “Who did this?”
Her expression shifted, something haunted appearing. “The soldier who pulled me from the house the night of our capture. They’re just…what’s left. Much better than before.”
My gaze dropped, following the marks to where they disappeared beneath the thin fabric of her tank.
The material offered little cover, and I could see that the damage continued underneath.
My hands slid from her face, down her neck, until my fingers brushed the hem at her hips. I paused, watching her.
“Let me see.”
Gracie hesitated, glancing down at herself. At the simple bra beneath the fabric, at how exposed she already was. Then she nodded, those pink cheeks deepening in color.
“Okay.”
I moved slowly, lifting the fabric just enough to reveal more of the damage along her left side.
The scars stretched further than I could have imagined, pulling across her ribs and covering half of her back.
My fingers hovered, then settled lightly against her skin, careful of the raised edges, the places where it had healed unevenly. Her breath hitched.
“They’re beautiful,” I said. The rage they inspired was less beautiful, but something in my voice pulled a soft, wounded sound from her.
Her voice shook as she replied, “I don’t feel that way.”
I wanted to show her she was wrong.
I leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull back. She didn’t. Her breath caught instead, her fingers tightening on my shirt.
My mouth pressed to the scars beneath her shoulder, slow and deliberate. Not claiming. Just there. My hand shifted at her side, easing the fabric of her tank higher.
I could mark her here.
The thought came sharp and immediate as I traced the scarred flesh. It pulled from something deeper than instinct, something possessive and unrelenting. My teeth ached with it, my jaw tightening as I forced it back down.
No. That wasn’t mine to take. She wasn’t territory. She was Gracie, and she was letting me close. That mattered more. When I marked her, it would be in a moment of absolute trust. I buried the impulse beneath the slow, deliberate worship of my mouth on her scars.
I traced lower, toward the curve of her breast. The soft bra she wore did nothing to hide the way her body reacted to my touch, the way her skin pebbled and her nipples hardened.
I didn’t push further though. I stayed with the scar, my lips following its path, my breath cool against her warming skin.
Her fingers slipped into my hair hesitantly at first, then tightened. “Ravik…” she breathed, the word sounding like a plea.
I lifted my head, our eyes meeting. The heat between us was undeniable, tension building to the point that the control I’d been holding onto began to slip.
I kissed her before I could stop myself.
It wasn’t gentle or careful. My mouth took hers, and she answered just as intensely. Her breath caught as she leaned into me, closing the last distance between us. My hand stayed at her jaw while the other slid along her back, pulling her fully against me.
Her hands moved from my chest to my shoulders, gripping, pulling at my shirt as the kiss deepened. We broke apart, breath unsteady, only to come back together again, harder.
My hand slid lower over the curve of her hip as I guided her onto her back, bracing myself above her.
My mouth left hers, trailing along her jaw to her throat.
I pressed a kiss to the pulse there, feeling her heartbeat hammer beneath my lips.
My teeth grazed the skin, the urge to bite rising again, primal and instinctive.
I forced it back, swallowing it down with a low sound against her neck.
Gracie arched into me, a soft moan slipping free.
“More, Ravik. Touch me, more,” she said, the words muffled against my shoulder.
I knew what she needed. And I knew exactly what I wanted to give her.
My hand slid down her stomach and lower, over the front of her shorts, settling at the apex of her thighs. I could feel the heat of her through the fabric, the soft curve of her body beneath my hand. My own need pressed insistent, but I ignored it.
This was for her.
My hand moved in slow circles over her fabric-covered core.
She gasped, her body tensing before melting into it, her head falling back as I found a rhythm.
My finger pressed and circled over her sensitive clit.
Gracie moved with it, rocking subtly against my hand as her legs opened on either side of me.
“Ravik…” she breathed again, a broken chant.
I followed it, kissing my way back to her mouth, taking her lips as my hand kept moving. The fabric between us was a barrier I was starting to hate.
When I broke the kiss, my gaze dropped to my hand before lifting back to her face. Her eyes were half-lidded, dark with need.
“I need more,” I said, my voice rough. “Can I?”
She nodded, fast and urgent. “Yes. Please.”
I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her shorts, dragging them down with a shift of her hips until they were gone, joining the camisole she’d already shed.
Yet lux mea didn’t shy away. She stayed where she was, exposed, her gaze locked on mine with a trust that had my heart beating rapidly in my chest.
I didn’t rush. I leaned in, kissing her again before moving lower, my mouth finding the cotton of her bra, drawing the peak of her nipple into my mouth.
My hand followed, sliding down her stomach and lower, until my middle finger slid through her slick heat, finding her entrance before gliding higher to the sensitive peak above.
I circled there, slow at first, then faster as her breathing broke into ragged pants.
Her fingers gripped my arms, nails pressing into my sleeves.
I pulled back far enough to watch every expression that crossed her face. Every flicker of pleasure. Every clench of her jaw. Every soft sound she made.
Mine. Absolutely mine.
I added a second finger, not entering. Just pressing, increasing the pressure.
My thumb moved lower, finding a rhythm that completed the motion.
Gracie arched into it, her back tightening, her head tipping back.
I kept teasing her breasts, drawing small gasps from her as I watched, unable to look away.
“Ravik!”
“I want you to come, lux mea,” I growled as I kept my fingers moving in a relentless rhythm. My focus was completely on her reactions—the shifts that made her jerk and the ones that made her tremble.
The urge to bite surged back. As she tightened under my hand, I moved to her shoulder, to where her scar met clear skin. My lips parted. My teeth pressed against her flesh—not biting, just holding.
A promise.
Gracie cried out, her hips bucking against my hand. I pulled back, releasing the pressure, replacing it with a kiss. Not now.
She was close, trembling, her words breaking apart. “Don’t…stop…please…”
Lux mea’s climax hit.
Her body seized beneath my hand and she clenched around my fingers, a cry breaking from her throat.
Fuck.
Gracie collapsed back against the bed, her body shuddering through the aftershocks. I pulled her into me, my fingers stilling as I withdrew them, denying myself the urge to taste her, to lick her wet heat off my fingers.
Gracie was breathing hard, her entire body flushed pink.
She spoke first after a long, comfortable silence, her voice muffled against my shirt. “You didn’t… don’t you need to…” Her words trailed, uncertain, like she wasn’t sure how to ask.
My own need was an untouched knot, but it didn’t matter.
“This was for you,” I said, my voice rough.
Everything was.