27. Thalric
TWENTY-SEVEN
THALRIC
Thalric paced the dining room, his gaze fixed on the dark expanse of ocean visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The twin moons cast silver pathways across the pink water, a scene that should have been peaceful but now felt like a prelude to violence.
Kaelen stood silently by the hearth, a glass of deep red Sidaii wine untouched in his hand. His Beta knew better than to interrupt Thalric’s brooding.
Sylar should be here.
The thought scraped against Thalric’s mind like barnacles on a hull.
The border patrol excuse had been professionally delivered, perfectly logical.
Yet something about the interaction at the training facility had left a bitter aftertaste.
Sylar had been more than a head enforcer for thirty years; he’d been a constant presence since Thalric was a scared, orphaned five-year-old brought into Roman’s home.
The man had taught Thalric how to hold a practice blade, how to track scents along the shoreline, and how to mask his emotions when the pack demanded authority and control.
He’s like family. He should understand why these changes are necessary.
Adaptation wasn’t a weakness; it was survival. Navira’s techniques were proving transformative, and Sylar, of all people, should recognize superior strategy when he saw it. His wounded pride was a luxury they couldn’t afford with Graven’s shadow darkening their waters.
“He’ll come around,” Kaelen said quietly, as if reading the tension in Thalric’s shoulders. “Sylar’s loyal. He just doesn’t like change.”
“Change is what keeps us alive,” Thalric countered, his voice tight. He didn’t have time to coddle bruised egos.
The door to the dining room whispered open.
Every thought of Sylar, of strategy, of the war evaporated.
Navira stood in the doorway, and the incomplete mate bond surged in Thalric’s chest like a second heartbeat coming to life. She wore a coral sundress that clung to the curves he’d memorized just last night, the color setting her sun-kissed skin aglow. She looked radiant—alive and powerful and his.
His wolf rose immediately, a possessive growl vibrating low in his throat.
The primal urge to cross the room, throw her over his shoulder, and carry her back to his chambers was so visceral his muscles coiled with the effort of staying still.
He wanted to strip that dress away with his teeth, taste her skin, and lose himself in her until the only war that mattered was the one they waged between the sheets.
“Shall we?” Kaelen’s diplomatic voice cut through the thick haze of desire.
Reality crashed back with the force of a tidal wave.
Thalric gave a sharp nod, mastering himself with the control that had defined his leadership for five years.
He moved to Navira, his hand finding the small of her back.
He guided her to the chair beside his at the head of the long, polished table.
“You look…” He struggled for a word that wasn’t perfect or mine. “Ready.”
She offered him a small, knowing smile that said she felt the bond’s pull just as fiercely as they took their seats.
The chef appeared with three steaming plates of seared whitefish garnished with luminescent seaweed and roasted root vegetables. The aromas were rich, but Thalric’s stomach was a knot of tension. He pushed the food around his plate as Kaelen outlined the threat and their defensive positioning.
“Graven’s inner circle,” Kaelen began. “You’ve met Luthira.
The octopus. Illusionist, psychological warfare.
Then there’s Draxen—eel shifter. Infiltration, sabotage.
Slips through cracks. Barnacle is a crab.
Pure brute force, nearly impenetrable armor.
Sareth, the swordfish. Arrogant duelist, fast and precise.
And Veyra. Shark shifter. Cold, tactical, and relentless. ”
Thalric watched her absorb the information.
Her eyebrows lifted, not with fear, but with the sharp, assessing focus of a coach reviewing an opponent’s roster.
Through the bond, which had deepened since he’d claimed her, he felt her spike of alertness and a prickle of unease, quickly mastered by simmering determination.
“Your fifty wolves,” Navira said, her voice confident. “They can handle that. The precision drills, the burst-speed techniques, the underwater combat rolls—they’re catching on faster than I expected. If we keep perfecting it, they can face them as soon as you need.”
Her certainty was a balm to the constant pressure behind his sternum. “Good. Because we don’t know when Graven will move. So, you’ll continue your training whenever we’re not actively engaged.”
“What’s the endgame?” she asked, setting her fork down. “We can’t stay on defense forever.”
Kaelen leaned forward. “Alpha’s plan is to hold defensive positions for now, let your training take full effect. We only engage if they strike first. But if they escalate…”
“We hunt them down,” Thalric finished, his voice dropping to a low, predatory register. “We find their nest, and we end this. Permanently.”
“And our chances?” Navira’s blue eyes held his, seeking the truth, not reassurance.
“With our strength,” Thalric said, leaning toward her, his gaze intense, “and with your skill shaping that strength into a weapon? We will tear them apart.”
A slow, fierce smile touched her lips. It was the look of an athlete accepting a challenge. “Then I’ll keep pushing. I’ll turn every one of your warriors into a blade.”
“I trust you,” he said, the words meaning more than just her coaching. He trusted her with his pack, with his strategy, with the fragile, unguarded parts of himself he was still learning to show.
The dining room doors burst open before he could say more.
Alira stood there, her usual calm shattered. “Alpha—movement in the cove due east. Multiple signatures. Not ours.”
Thalric was on his feet before she finished, Kaelen mirroring him.
“Contact Sylar,” Thalric commanded, his Alpha voice filling the room. “Tell him we need back-up there immediately. Kaelen and I will engage.”
Navira stood, the chair scraping behind her. Her chin lifted in that defiant, irresistible way that made his blood heat even in crisis. “I’m coming.”
“Absolutely not. You stay inside where it’s secure.” The order tore from him, born of pure, instinctive terror at the thought of her in the water with those creatures.
“If I’m to stand beside you—if I’m to be your Luna and earn your pack’s respect—I won’t be sidelined as a liability.” Her words were steady, but they struck with the precision of a blade. “I can help until back-up arrives.”
He hated the flawless logic of it. Hated the fear that clawed at his throat. But he also heard Roman’s voice in his memory.
‘You can’t protect someone by caging them. You protect them by making them strong enough to survive.’