Chapter 6
* * *
The black SUV rolled to a slow, deliberate stop along the dirt road, its headlights slicing through the predawn mist like twin blades. The forest loomed around them—silent, ancient, and watchful.
A place where predators were born and only the strongest ruled.
The moment the engine cut, Atlas and Ares stepped out, boots crunching against gravel, their senses sharpening with each breath of damp, pine-laced air. They didn’t speak. They didn’t have to. The storm they felt ahead of them was enough.
Because Adonis was close.
And he was not calm.
The clearing opened before them like a wound carved out of the earth, and in the center of it—glowing beneath the wash of moonlight—stood a figure made of fury and fire.
Adonis Stavros.
He wasn’t alone.
Betsy was locked against his chest, cradled there like something irreplaceable. His arms were wrapped around her like iron bars, his head bowed, face buried in her hair, inhaling her like she was oxygen—and the only thing keeping his beast from snapping its chains.
The possessiveness rolling off him was palpable, thickening the air with every breath. His golden eyes flashed beneath the shadows, tracking Atlas and Ares like prey.
He wasn’t blinking.
He wasn’t breathing steady.
And when they took a single step forward?
Adonis growled.
Not a warning.
A declaration.
It was primal, guttural, the kind of sound that stripped skin from bone and made grown alphas freeze mid-step. Ares immediately squared his shoulders, tension vibrating down his spine. Atlas halted, his hand flexing at his side.
They exchanged a look.
This wasn’t the Adonis they knew.
This wasn’t the composed, untouchable Alpha of North America. This was something older. Wilder. A predator who’d found his mate and was seconds from losing his godsdamned mind.
The raw, territorial energy bleeding from his body was lethal.
Ares, always the first to walk into fire, took the lead. He moved slowly, measured, arms loose, voice low. “Adonis.”
No response.
Just a shift in Adonis’s stance—shoulders tensing, arms tightening, his hold on Betsy going from possessive to absolute.
Atlas exhaled slowly, reading the signs.
Adonis wasn’t protecting her.
He was claiming her.
And that bond? That mate bond?
It had a grip on him like a vice.
One wrong word, one misstep, and the brother they’d trusted to lead entire regions would treat them like threats—and rip out their throats without blinking.
Atlas raised his hands, voice steady but firm. “We’re not here to challenge you, Adonis. We’re not here to take her.”
Still nothing.
Adonis’s body was shaking now—not from weakness, but from the pressure of keeping his beast leashed. His chest rose and fell in deep, controlled breaths, every inhale dragging in the scent of his mate like he was drowning without it.
And still… he didn’t speak.
Betsy stirred.
She blinked at the sound of the growl, her brow furrowing slightly as her head tilted toward Atlas and Ares.
Then—cool as hell, utterly unbothered—she murmured, “Hey. Pretty sure those are your brothers. You know, the ones not trying to drag me off into the woods?”
Nothing.
Just another growl.
Lower. Darker.
More possessive.
Betsy sighed like a woman who had been through enough nonsense for one night. She shifted in Adonis’s arms, her hand bracing against his chest—solid muscle, hot through his shirt—and she patted him.
Yes. Patted.
Like a misbehaving Rottweiler.
“Alright, big guy,” she muttered. “You’re doing a great job with the whole alpha-protector-growl-and-glare thing. But maybe dial it down from eleven before I start wondering if you need to be sedated.”
Still no smile from Adonis.
His gaze didn’t move from his brothers.
But he hadn’t lunged.
Yet.
Then—cool as a damn blade—Betsy twisted in his hold and reached up to pinch his chin between her fingers.
“You really gonna keep growling at your family like a damn rabid wolf?” she asked, voice dipped in unimpressed amusement. “Because I swear to God, if you break out the claws, I will muzzle you.”
The clearing fell silent.
Atlas blinked.
Ares choked.
And Adonis?
Adonis finally blinked.
The tension shifted. Subtle, but real. His arms loosened—just a hair—but enough that Atlas felt his shoulders drop an inch.
The wolf inside Adonis was still coiled, still hungry. But it had stopped pacing.
He exhaled, rough and uneven, and finally—finally—lifted his head.
His golden eyes stayed locked on Atlas as he spoke.
“She’s my mate.”
Three words. Nothing more.
But gods, they rattled the earth.
Atlas and Ares already knew. They’d seen the signs, felt the bond humming in the air like a war drum.
But hearing Adonis—Adonis, who never lost control, never gave in to instinct, never let anyone close—say it out loud?
That changed everything.
Because now it was real.
And if anyone came for her?
The world would burn.
* * *
Candy woke up sore in places she didn’t even know could be sore.
She blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the trees, her body tangled in the thick camping blanket, the cool forest air brushing over her bare arms. For a moment, she just lay there, letting reality sink in.
They had spent the night in the wilderness.
They had spent the night together.
And judging by the dull, aching throb between her thighs, Aeolus had made damn sure she wouldn’t forget it anytime soon.
A low, gravelly chuckle rumbled from nearby.
Candy cracked one eye open and turned her head, only to find Aeolus standing by the fire, shirtless, making coffee like he wasn’t the reason she felt like she’d been tackled by a linebacker.
Correction—a six-foot-four beast of a man with way too much stamina.
He smirked, the steam from the coffee pot curling around his golden hair as he poured two cups. “You’re staring.”
Candy grunted, rolling onto her side with a wince. “I’m deciding if I should kill you.”
Aeolus let out a full laugh, his obnoxiously perfect muscles flexing as he lifted the coffee to his lips. “Why? Because I made you scream my name all night?”
Candy grabbed the nearest object—a sock—and chucked it at his head.
It hit his bare chest and dropped to the ground harmlessly.
Aeolus just grinned. “Weak throw. Must be the exhaustion.”
Candy groaned, rolling onto her stomach and stuffing her face into the pillow. “You owe me for this.”
His voice dropped, husky, teasing. “Oh? And what exactly do I owe you, baby?”
Candy lifted her head just enough to glare at him. “Food. A bath. Maybe a damn ice pack.”
Aeolus smirked and held up the coffee mug instead. “How about caffeine first?”
She muttered something about smug werewolves and overconfident alpha males but forced herself to sit up, taking the coffee he offered.
The second she took a sip, she moaned.
Aeolus froze.
His grip on his mug tightened like he was about to shatter it.
Candy barely noticed, stretching out her legs with a satisfied sigh. “Damn, that’s good. I could marry this coffee.”
Aeolus exhaled slowly through his nose. “Don’t do that.”
Candy blinked at him, feigning innocence. “Do what?”
His blue eyes darkened, flicking over her with clear hunger.
“You know exactly what.” His voice was low, gritted, like he was holding himself together with pure willpower.
Candy bit her lip, trying not to smirk.
She stretched her arms above her head, arching her back just enough to make his eyes flicker downward. “Oh, you mean this?”
Aeolus growled.
Candy grinned.
Yeah, she was sore. But if teasing him got this reaction?
Totally worth it.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart,” he murmured, setting his mug down with deliberate slowness.
Candy arched a brow. “Am I?”
He took a step closer, his body radiating heat, his scent all-consuming. “Mm-hmm.”
Candy held her ground, sipping her coffee, deliberately unfazed. “Well, considering the fact that I’m still recovering from last night, I think I win by default.”
Aeolus groaned, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re killing me.”
“Good,” she said sweetly.
He exhaled sharply, then grabbed her hand, tugging her up to her feet. “Come on. We’re cleaning up.”
Candy pouted. “So bossy.”
“You love it.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong.
* * *
The stream was a short walk from their campsite, the water clear and cool, the kind of beauty that belonged on a postcard. Candy knelt beside it, cupping her hands and splashing her face while Aeolus rinsed off some of their camping gear.
The sun was just peeking over the horizon, casting golden light over his bare shoulders, making him look obnoxiously perfect.
Candy sat back, watching him with a slow smile. “You ever think about being in one of those outdoor survival shows?”
Aeolus lifted a brow. “You mean the ones where they throw some idiot in the woods and see how long he lasts?”
Candy snickered. “Yeah, but you’d probably ruin the whole thing by making it look too easy.”
He smirked. “I’d rather be naked with you in the woods than on some reality show.”
Candy choked on her own spit.
Aeolus grinned like the devil himself. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”
She glared at him between coughs. “You can’t just—say things like that while I’m drinking water!”
He shrugged, his voice low and teasing. “It’s the truth.”
Candy was about to fire back with a smartass remark when Aeolus suddenly stilled, his blue eyes locking onto her like a predator.
For a moment, she didn’t know why.
Then she realized—his gaze wasn’t on her face.
It was lower.
Her thin tank top was wet, the water from her hands having soaked the fabric.
And since she wasn’t wearing a bra…
Candy sucked in a breath. “Aeolus.”
His jaw ticked, his muscles coiling with restraint.
She could see it—the battle happening inside him.
The part of him that wanted to throw her against the nearest tree and remind her exactly what he did to her last night.
And the part that knew she was still sore.
Candy swallowed, suddenly very warm despite the cool morning air.
Then, because she was a menace, she tilted her head and said, “You okay there, big guy?”