Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
“Ithink we should have a feast,” Kitara announces, her hand resting on her growing belly as she studies the scattered maps and reports covering the council table.
I look up from the reconnaissance photos, confused by the non sequitur. “A feast? Now? We’re planning a rescue mission, not a celebration.”
Ryker’s mate smiles, that serene expression that always makes me wonder what future she’s glimpsed with her seer abilities.
“Precisely why we need one. The pack has been on edge since your return, everyone preparing for battle, worrying about what comes next. A night of good food and music will do wonders for morale.”
“Plus,” she adds with a knowing look, “it would give everyone a chance to properly welcome Kier to Shadowmist.”
I suppress a wince but my wolf huffs in amusement, clearly more appreciative of the Alpha Female’s matchmaking than I am.
“Kitara’s right,” Ryker says, setting down the facility blueprints he’s been studying. “The pack needs this.”
I want to argue that we don’t have time for distractions, but I can see the wisdom in their suggestion. Wolves are pack animals—we draw strength from community and moments of connection that remind us of why we face danger together.
“Fine,” I concede. “When?”
“Tonight,” Kitara says decisively. “No point in waiting. We have enough food stored, and everyone could use the break from planning.”
“That’s… soon.”
“It’s exactly what’s needed.” She rises from her chair, her pregnancy making the movement slightly awkward. “I’ll handle the arrangements. You just make sure you’re there—and bring your nomad.”
“He’s not my nomad,” I protest automatically.
Kitara’s knowing smile makes me flush. “Of course not. My mistake.”
After she leaves, Ryker turns to me with a more serious expression. “She worries about you, you know. We both do.”
I straighten the stack of photos in front of me, avoiding his mismatched gaze. “I’m fine.”
“Are you?” He leans forward. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’ve been running yourself ragged since you got back, barely taking time to heal, and doing everything possible to avoid being alone with Kier.”
The direct hit makes me flinch. “I’ve been busy. There’s a lot to organize.”
“True. But that’s not why you’re avoiding him.”
I look up then, meeting his gaze squarely. “With all due respect, Alpha, my personal life is my own business.”
“Normally, I’d agree,” he says calmly. “But when it affects pack dynamics, it becomes my concern.”
“How is this affecting pack dynamics?”
“You’re distracted. Off-balance. And the pack notices, whether you realize it or not.” He pauses, his expression softening slightly. “Plus, I like him. He’s good for you.”
The simple assessment catches me off guard. “You barely know him.”
“I know enough. I know he came back for you when he could have escaped alone. I know he looks at you like you’re the moon itself.” Ryker leans back in his chair. “And I know what it’s like to find your mate when you least expect it.”
“How many times do I have to tell you people that he’s not—” I start, then stop, unwilling to voice the lie. My wolf stirs restlessly, aware of the truth I’m trying to deny. “It’s complicated.”
“Life usually is,” Ryker agrees. “Question is, do you think he’s worth the complication?”
I gather my papers, needing to escape this conversation before I say something I’ll regret. “I should check on the reconnaissance preparations.”
Ryker lets me go, but his parting words follow me out of the council chamber. “Tonight, at the feast. Give yourself permission to be happy, even if it’s just for one night.”
Give myself permission to be happy. As if it’s that simple. As if happiness is something I could simply decide to allow myself, like an extra helping of dessert or a day off from training.
But as I make my way through the den’s corridors, I can’t shake his words. What would it be like to stop fighting this pull toward Kier? To simply let myself have what I want, consequences be damned?
Dangerous, my rational mind warns. Giving your heart to someone means giving them the power to destroy you when they leave.
If they leave, my wolf counters. Kier is different.
Just for tonight, I think, turning the idea over in my mind. Maybe I can have this, just for tonight.
The decision sends a thrill of anticipation through me, mixed with an edge of fear that I refuse to acknowledge. One night. What harm could there be in that?
The main hall has been transformed by late afternoon.
Tables have been arranged in a great circle, with space in the center for dancing.
Garlands of pine and wildflowers hang from the rafters, their scent mingling with the mouth-watering aromas coming from the kitchen.
Candles and lanterns cast a warm, golden glow over everything, creating an atmosphere of celebration and comfort.
I linger in the entrance, momentarily overwhelmed by the sight. Kitara has outdone herself in the few hours since she proposed this gathering. The pack moves around the space with easy familiarity, setting out plates and goblets, arranging seating, laughing and talking as they work.
This is what we’re fighting for. Not just survival, but this—community, belonging, and joy that’s shared among people who care for each other.
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
I turn to find Kier standing behind me, and my breath catches in my throat.
He’s cleaned up for the occasion, his copper hair damp from a recent shower, curling slightly at the ends where it brushes his shoulders.
He’s wearing clothes borrowed from one of the larger pack members—dark pants and a forest-green shirt that brings out the gold in his eyes.
“You look…” I search for a word that won’t reveal too much. “Different.”
A smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “Different good or different bad?”
“Just different,” I hedge, though we both know it’s good. Very good.
He steps closer, his scent wrapping around me—pine and leather and something uniquely him that makes my wolf stir with interest. “You look beautiful,” he says simply.
I glance down at my own attire—a deep blue dress that Kitara insisted I wear. “Thanks.”
An awkward silence falls between us, and I scramble for something to say that doesn’t involve how much I want to drag him out of this hall and back to my quarters.
“I saw you training with Elias this morning,” I offer. “He was impressed.”
“He said that?”
“Not in so many words. But he doesn’t offer to spar with just anyone.”
Kier’s expression warms. “Your pack has been… welcoming. More than I expected.”
“They’re good people,” I say, feeling an absurd surge of pride. “The best.”
“I can see that.” His gaze travels around the hall, taking in the preparations and the wolves working together. “This is something special you have here, Lithia. I haven’t seen anything like it in a long time.”
The wistfulness in his voice tugs at something in my chest. “You could be part of it, you know. If you wanted.”
His eyes snap back to mine, suddenly intense. “Could I?”
The question carries more weight than the simple words suggest. He’s asking about more than just acceptance into the pack, and we both know it.
Before I can answer, Kitara appears, looking radiant in a flowing dress that accommodates her pregnancy. “There you two are! Come in, come in. The feast is about to begin.”
She takes both our hands, drawing us into the hall with a strength that belies her small stature. “I’ve saved seats for you at the head table.”
Kier looks surprised by the honor but allows himself to be led to the table where Ryker and other senior pack members are already seated. As we settle into our places, I notice the speculative glances from the pack, the knowing smiles exchanged between some of the older wolves.
Great. Even more gossip fodder.
But as the food is served and wine begins to flow, I find myself relaxing despite the attention.
The meal is a celebration of Shadowmist’s bounty—venison and wild boar, fresh fish from the mountain streams, vegetables and fruits harvested from the pack’s gardens, bread still warm from the ovens.
It’s a feast fit for a homecoming, which I suppose this is in many ways.
Conversation flows easily around the table, with Kier fielding questions about his travels as a nomad with good humor and interesting stories. He has a way of speaking that draws people in, making them laugh with his dry wit or lean forward to catch every word of a particularly harrowing adventure.
I watch him from the corner of my eye, fascinated by this side of him I’ve barely glimpsed before.
He fits here, among my people, in a way I hadn’t expected.
There’s none of the awkwardness or forced politeness that usually marks outsiders’ interactions with the pack.
He’s just… himself. And they respond to that authenticity, including him in their jokes, their stories, their community.
“So, Kier,” Felix asks from across the table, “is it true you once tracked a rogue alpha through three territories using nothing but a week-old scent marker?”
Kier chuckles, taking a sip of his wine. “It was ten days old, actually. And I had help—a particularly stubborn thunderstorm that refused to stop raining the entire time.”
“How does rain help tracking?” one of the younger wolves asks, clearly fascinated.
“It doesn’t, usually,” Kier explains. “But this particular alpha had a habit of seeking shelter in abandoned human structures when it rained. All I had to do was check every dilapidated barn and shed along his likely path. Found him curled up in an old schoolhouse basement, still damp from the last downpour.”
The story earns appreciative laughter, and I find myself smiling despite my attempt to maintain some emotional distance.
“What about you, Beta?” someone calls from farther down the table. “Any good stories from your time on the run?”