EMBER
The unruly butterflies in my stomach wake me way before the sun sets. Their wings flutter like a storm beneath my ribs, refusing to be quiet. Roman’s bed is empty. Typical. He’s probably off charming the cooks, or sneaking into restricted wings of the castle. That boy has no fear.
I, on the other hand, am nothing but nerves.
After the Scent trial last night, I am raw, wired, and barely functioning on a few hours of sleep. If a simple inhale from a stranger can unravel me like that, what in gods’ name is Touch going to do to me?
I slip out through the secret stairwell and step into the valley, the air crisp and bright under the afternoon sun. I need to run. A wolf needs movement to process, run off the ache of restlessness.
As soon as I shift, the world tilts into clarity.
My paws hit earth in rapid succession, launching me into motion. My auburn fur catches glimmers of light as I race through open grasslands, the wind combing through my coat, rippling across my skin like fingers.
Last night replays behind my eyes. The mystery male’s voice still echoes in my head. “It’s you.” His breath hot against my throat, his hands anchoring me, and that scent. Pine and winterberry. Solstice and safety. He held me like he’s been searching for me. Like I was already his.
I run harder. Faster.
Trying to escape the what ifs. I should’ve lost my virginity before all this. I somehow thought I was protecting myself. Now I realize how na?ve I’ve been.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve explored my own body before. I’m not totally clueless. I’ve seen how wolves mate, how they love. The raw, unfiltered hunger of it. But I’ve never been touched like that by another.
Will my new mate care? Will he expect more than I know how to give?
A moment of doubt claws at me, and I dig my paws deeper into the dirt, tearing up the earth as I veer toward the northern woods.
Trees blur past in streaks of green and gold.
Branches whip behind me. I leap over a downed log, twist through narrow gaps, breathe in the damp musk of moss and fallen leaves.
The valley opens wider on the other side.
Finally, the soft trickle of water reaches my ears.
I slow at the edge of a stream, its surface dappled with reflected sky. The cold scent of it cools my overheated brain. I pad forward, sinking my paws into the muddy bank until the silt curls around my toes. Dropping my head, I lap at the water, cool and refreshing.
Each mouthful grounds me, slows my hammering heart.
But it’s not enough. I step deeper, wading into the stream until it reaches my chest. I dunk my head beneath the surface, and everything stills.
The cold rush quiets my thoughts in a single, shocking second.
My fur clings to my skin for a suspended breath, it’s just me and the weightless silence of water.
Then I burst through the river’s surface in a spray of droplets. I shake out my coat, scattering mist into the air. The sun warms me instantly. I stand for a moment at the river’s edge, water dripping from my muzzle, chest heaving.
I feel … better. Still unsettled, but quieter.
I lift my snout and scent the wind. Nothing but trees, soil, faint trails of pack members long gone.
But somewhere out there, he exists. A part of me aches to find him again.
As I’m taking in the afternoon sun, my eyes notice river reeds lining the bed beside me.
Strong but flexible in the breeze. It gives me an idea for that outfit I have to make for the ball.
After my run, I shift back and bolt up the stairs with a handfull of reeds in my hands. Breathless from the sprint, muscles humming from exertion and the zillion stairs. The corridor is quiet until I reach the first-floor landing.
A low growl, not a threat, but cruel amusement. It stops me cold.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the temple’s most holy blessed,” sneers a tall brunette, arms folded beneath a buxom chest.
“Look who it is, virgin,” another adds, flicking her silvery braid over her shoulder.
I slow. Too late to backtrack back down the steps. Three of them lean against the hallway walls like predators in wait. Their eyes gleam with malice and something else — jealousy?
“I wouldn’t worry, Sky,” the brunette continues. “What does a virgin know about touch and taste? You’ll probably faint the second someone grabs your tit.”
Another giggles. “You’re right, Robyn, She’s no competition. Men want fire and passion, not some toothpick who can’t fuck.”
My breath hitches, but I keep walking. Pushing past them toward the next stairs.
That’s when I spy Dove, hiding behind them, leaning against the wall.
Her eyes don’t meet mine, but she doesn’t try to stop them either.
My heart climbs into my throat, it really is over between us.
This is the line in the sand. Can she really just stand there?
Unless she believes it too. It’s no secret she and Leif were intimate, but I didn’t think she would judge me for not doing the same.
Their laughter follows me as I ascend.
“She probably doesn’t even know what to do with her own hands, let alone someone else’s,” they continue, words haunting me up the stairs.
“Maybe she should take herself out of the running. Leave the mating to the real females.”
I push forward without a word, fighting the sting behind my eyes. My bare feet pound up the stone steps. Dove had called me competition, but she’s hanging out with these bullies? Maybe she just doesn’t want to be around me.
Once I’m in my room, I lock the door before falling face first into the bed. My body is exhausted from the run, the betrayal, and all the festivities. But my chest aches as the truth wraps around me.
Because they’re right, what do I know? What if I don’t measure up?
What if that beautiful mystery wolf realizes I’m just pretending? I’m not ready for all of this. I’m not a mate. I hug myself close as I drift off.
When I wake, Roman’s bed is still empty. Panic pulses through me. How late is it? He should be back by now. But then I spot a folded note on his pillow.
A map is sketched on the side, and beneath it:
Found something wild. Come quick. –R
I don’t pause to think, I can feel the moon rising in the sky through the coolness of the stone, and if I don’t hurry, I’m going to be late for the trials.
The temple doors blur as I dash past them. Several people line the hall waiting for the doors to open. I slip past them, down the steps to the second level.
The map leads me to a hallway I’ve never explored.
The air here is heavy, the stones older than the rest. I find the narrow stairwell from the map and descend into what feels like the belly of the cliff.
The air turns cold, musty. There’s a small room, and a heavy steel door looms at the bottom.
Across from it, a desk draped in cobwebs lined with moth-eaten scrolls and forgotten books.
My fingers curl around the iron handle on the door and I pull.
It groans open, scraping dust off the stone tile as I step inside.
My skin prickles. The air is thick, like it hasn’t been disturbed in years.
A shaft of light slices down from a high window, spotlighting the altar at the center of the dark chamber.
The dust shifts around my feet. The air smells like ancient stone and … blood.
There’s a dark smudge on the altar.
“Roman?” I call. But as I glance around, I notice I’m alone. My footsteps are the only sound echoing in the empty room. The scent of old blood grows stronger. They sacrificed here and didn’t even bother to clean it up. Why would Roman want to show me this?
I glance at the map again trying to make sure I got the place right, only the handwriting asking me to meet him here is not Roman’s. It’s too… scripty. If I wasn’t in such a rush, I would have noticed. I step forward, spying the blood. There’s something written there.
I take another step closer.
‘Die Bitch’
It is written in blood, and I can smell it’s rabbit blood. Not human. The door slams shut behind me.
This was a setup. I run back, trying it. Locked.
Son of a bitch.
I slam my fists against the metal and pry at the handle. It doesn’t budge.
Then, giggles. Cruel, high-pitched, fading up the stairs. Those females from the hallway. They planned this. I dared to think finding (or avoiding finding) a mate would be my biggest issue. Now, those jealous bitches are preventing me from even trying.
I pace like a caged animal, leaving track marks in the dust. Fury bubbles hot in my veins. They want to take this from me. They want me to give up.
Maybe I should. Is this what I want? If I’m not in the temple and don’t find my mate, I can stay with Roman for one more year. Then the mysterious man who smelled delicious last night can find someone else.
He’s out there. Right now. Probably blindfolded in a room full of desperate females, and someone else could be touching him, pressing close, whispering sweet nothings. That thought elicits rage inside me. My claws clicking into place, the wolf inside me itching to break free.
Mine.
Those scents are mine. My family. My memories. A snarl rips through me. No. That mate is mine. The wolf inside me howls, breaking free in a flurry of fur.
I launch myself at the door, shoulder first. It groans. But holds.
I back up again, breath coming in hot gusts, and run harder, slamming my flank into it with every ounce of strength in me.
I pounce back farther against the far wall and run at the door.
I’m throwing all my might into it when it swings open and I tumble through the doorway and crash into the filthy shelves, bringing them down with me in a cloud of dust. My head stings from where the shelves whack me on the head.
I sneeze as surprise shifts me back to my human skin.
When the cloud of grime settles, Dove’s holding the door handle, hazel eyes wide and lips parted in horror.
“Ember?” She gasps. She has the nerve to look surprised, as if she and her pals didn’t plan this.
I rise, body shaking with rage and exertion, “Change of heart?”
“I … I didn’t know.”
“Do me a favor,” I growl, brushing dust off my arms, “choose a mate close to your new friends.”
“I didn’t…” She starts toward me, palms out, guilt flooding her face. Her lip tucked under her teeth like she’s holding back tears.
But I’m already storming past her up the steps. There’s no more time. Tonight’s trial is starting already, and no one takes what’s mine, never again.