Chapter 8 Sable #2
The word cracked through my mind like a whip, and horror followed immediately after.
I wanted him. Not just the bond. Not just magic pulling strings.
I wanted to touch him, taste him, let him fuck me until I screamed for him.
I wanted it so badly my whole body ached with it.
My nipples tightened as my sex flooded with arousal.
I was on the precipice of doing something monumentally stupid.
Something I couldn’t take back.
Again.
And that terrified me more than anything Varro had ever done.
Rafe's face flashed behind my eyes. Rafe, who'd held me like this. Who'd made me feel safe and wanted and special. Who'd smiled at me like I was the only person in the world while he led me straight into Varro's trap.
You're so fucking stupid, I thought viciously. You learned nothing. You're doing it again. Falling for someone, anyone, just because they give you a little attention.
I untangled myself as carefully as I could, sliding out from under Harkan's arm, pulling away from the warmth of his body. The bond protested—a sharp tug in my chest, like a rope pulled taut—but I ignored it, swallowing down the pain.
I was good at ignoring things that wanted to control me.
Harkan stirred as I moved to the edge of the bed, his hand reaching for the space I'd occupied.
"Sable?" His voice was rough with sleep, confused, and something in my chest cracked at the sound of it.
"I need air," I croaked, already standing, already moving toward the door. "I'll be back."
"Wait—"
But I was already gone, slipping into the corridor before he could stop me, before the concern in his voice could make me do something stupid, like crawl back into bed and let him have every part of me.
The stone was cold under my bare feet. I welcomed it. Welcomed the shock of it, the way it grounded me in my body and pulled me out of the lusty haze I'd woken in.
You're a fucking idiot, I told myself, pressing my back against the wall and forcing myself to breathe. He's not Rafe. He's not Varro. He's—
What? Different? How many times had I told myself that about Rafe?
The memories came whether I wanted them or not.
Rafe's arms around me in the early morning light. The way he'd pulled me close in his sleep, like I was something precious. How I'd lain there, heart full to bursting, thinking, This is what love feels like.
"I'll always protect you," he'd said once, pressing a kiss to my hair. "Always love you."
And I'd believed him. Gods help me, I'd believed every word—ate it up like a starving girl begging for scraps.
My mother's face flashed behind my eyes—worried, pleading, afraid. "Don't trust that man, Sable. I've seen what he is."
I hadn't listened. Had told myself she was paranoid, overprotective, that she didn't understand. Had chosen Rafe's pretty lies over my mother's desperate truth.
And then he'd handed me to Varro like I was nothing. Had stood there smiling while they burned the mark into my wrist. Had watched me scream and not flinched. The same man, hours earlier, had told me I was his heaven, his peace, his everything.
That's what trust gets you, the voice in my head hissed. That's what happens when you let someone in.
My hands were shaking. I pressed them flat against the cold stone and tried to separate past from present, tried to remember that Harkan wasn't Rafe, that the bond was magic and not manipulation, that—
But the bond was a kind of manipulation, wasn't it? It made me feel things. Want things. Trust things I had no business trusting.
How was I supposed to know which feelings were real and which were just the magic pulling my strings?
You can't, the voice whispered. You'll never know. And one day, when you've let your guard down, when you've started to believe you're safe—
He'll destroy you. Just like Rafe did.
A sob caught in my throat. I swallowed it down, refusing to cry in a hallway where anyone might find me.
A soft chittering sound made me look down. Trouble had followed me, his amber eyes bright with concern in the dim light. He butted his head against my ankle, a wordless question.
Are you okay?
"No," I whispered, sliding down the wall until I was sitting on the cold floor. "I don't think I am."
He climbed into my lap and pressed his warm body against my stomach. Through our bond, his worry crashed into me, his confusion, his fierce protectiveness. But beneath that, something else—a certainty that felt almost like faith.
He's not like the other one, Trouble seemed to say. I would know. I would smell the rot in him.
"And what about me?" My voice cracked. "I'm supposed to taste lies for a living, and I didn't taste a single one on Rafe. Six months of smiles and sweet words and I never once caught the poison underneath."
Trouble pressed closer, his warmth seeping through my thin shirt.
You were young. Untrained. In love. A pause, and then, softer: You are none of those things now. And I am here. I would not let you walk into another trap.
I wanted to believe him. Gods, I wanted to.
He'd found me at my lowest—on the bridge, barely six months into my enslavement, when my mother was freshly in the ground and I was ready to let the water take me.
Had bitten my ankle hard enough to draw blood, then sat there yipping at me like I was the stupidest creature he'd ever encountered.
And something about his fury—his tiny, foxfire-bright fury—had cut through the numbness when nothing else could.
He'd saved me. He wouldn't lead me wrong now.
Would he?
I buried my fingers in his fur and let myself breathe. In and out. In and out. Until the panic receded into something more manageable—not gone, just... contained.
"I don't know how to do this," I admitted to the empty hallway. "I don't know how to trust anyone again."
Trouble pressed his nose against my chin.
Then don't trust, he seemed to say. Watch. Wait. Let him prove what he is.
It wasn't comfort, exactly. But it was something I could hold onto.
When I finally went back inside, Harkan was sitting up in bed, waiting.
He didn't ask if I was okay. Didn't push for an explanation. Just watched me with those steady amber eyes, patient as stone.
"I'm not..." I started, then stopped. Tried again. "This is hard for me."
"I know."
"I don't trust easily. And when I do, it—" My voice cracked. "It doesn't end well."
"I know that, too."
I stood there, frozen in the doorway, and hated how much I wanted to go back to him. Hated how good it had felt to wake up in his arms. Hated that the bond made it impossible to tell which feelings were mine and which were just... magic.
"I need to go to my mother's shop," I said abruptly. "There might be supplies there. Things I can use to help with the wards, or—or to figure out how to fight the Devourer."
It was an excuse. We both knew it.
But Harkan just nodded. "I'll take you."
"You don't have to—"
"I'm not letting you go alone. Not with that thing still out there." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and I tried not to notice how the morning light caught the muscles in his back. "Give me ten minutes."
I should have argued. Should have insisted I could handle myself.
Instead, I just nodded.
By the time we made it to the main hall, word had already spread that we were leaving.
Cara intercepted us at the bottom of the stairs, her winter-gray eyes sharp as she took in the sight of us together. Something flickered across her face—not quite surprise, but close to it—before her expression smoothed back into professional neutrality.
"The eastern patrol reported no further incidents overnight," she said, falling into step beside Harkan. "The Devourer seems to have withdrawn. For now."
"For now," Harkan agreed grimly. "We won't have long before it strikes again."
"Which is why you're taking her to—" Cara's gaze cut to me. "Where, exactly?"
"My mother's shop," I said. "There might be supplies there. Books. Things that could help us understand what we're dealing with."
"Your shop in the Divide? The one you fled from? The one Varro's men are almost certainly watching?"
"That's the one."
Cara's expression said exactly what she thought of that plan, but she didn't argue. "I'll send Riven and Kael with you. Extra eyes."
"Not necessary," Harkan said.
"I wasn’t asking." Cara's tone left no room for discussion. "You're walking into enemy territory with half the world looking for her. You'll take backup or you won't go at all."
For a moment, the Alpha and second stared at each other in silent battle. Then Harkan's jaw tightened, and he gave a curt nod.
"Fine. But they stay outside. The shop is... personal."
Cara's expression softened by a fraction. "Understood."
We made our way through the stronghold toward the main entrance, and I tried not to notice the way pack members watched us as we passed. Their gazes were different now—less hostile, more curious. A few even nodded in my direction, brief acknowledgments that felt foreign after days of suspicion.
Bess appeared from a doorway, shoving a wrapped bundle into my hands before I could protest.
"Breakfast," she said gruffly. "You'll eat it on the way. And don't argue—I can hear your stomach from here."
She was gone before I could thank her.
"You're making friends," Harkan observed.
"I saved one of theirs. That's not friendship, that's debt."
"In a pack, it's often the same thing."
Before I could respond, a small body slammed into my legs.
"You're leaving?" Elodie's face was turned up toward mine, her dark curls wild and her expression stricken. "But you just got here! And Mr. Trouble promised to play with me again!"
Trouble chittered from my shoulder, and I felt his guilt through our bond. Apparently, he had made promises.
"I'll be back," I said, surprising myself with how much I meant it. "And when I am, Trouble will play with you as long as you want."
"Promise?"
The word caught in my throat. I didn't make promises. Promises were weapons that could be turned against you.
But she was looking at me with such hope, such trust, and—
"Promise," I said.
Trouble chittered from my shoulder, then—to my surprise—leapt down and wound himself around Elodie's ankles.
"Mr. Trouble?" She crouched down, her eyes wide. "You're staying?"
She needs me more right now, he seemed to say through our bond. You have the wolf. She has no one.
My throat tightened. "Take care of her," I murmured. "I'll be back soon."
He yipped once—a promise—and let Elodie scoop him into her arms before her mother appeared to shepherd her away, mouthing "Thank you" over her daughter's head.
"You're definitely making friends," Harkan said quietly.
I didn't have an answer for that.
Thea was waiting by the main gate, her arms crossed and her expression deeply unimpressed.
"Let me guess," she drawled. "Dangerous mission into hostile territory. Mysterious magical threats. And you're going anyway, because you're both idiots with death wishes."
"Something like that," Harkan said.
"Wonderful." She pushed off the wall and pressed a small pouch into my hands. "Healing salve. For when you inevitably get yourselves torn open. Try not to bleed out before you use it."
"Your bedside manner is truly inspiring."
"I'm a healer, not a cheerleader." But her golden eyes held something warmer as she looked at me. "You did good work last night. Declan's awake. He wants to thank you when you get back."
Something complicated twisted in my chest. "I just... I couldn't let him die."
"No," Thea agreed. "You couldn't. That's what makes you one of us, whether you like it or not."
She turned and walked away before I could respond, leaving me standing there with Harkan's warmth at my back and the weight of belonging settling over my shoulders like a cloak I hadn't asked for.
"Ready?" Harkan asked.
I looked back at the stronghold—at the pack members watching from windows and doorways, at Elodie waving frantically from her mother's arms, at the place that was starting to feel less like a prison and more like something else entirely.
"No," I said honestly. "But let's go, anyway."
This is not running, I told myself. This is surviving.
Maybe I was right.
Or maybe I was just getting better at lying to myself.