Chapter 9 A Vow in the Mist
A VOW IN THE MIST
“Where love is torn by grief, and grief is sharpened by fear, hatred is born. And hatred, left to bloom, will always lead to war.”
—Láda Velé?a, Goddess of Leadership and War
Noel
Idart away, weaving between the trees as branches claw at my face and arms, drawing thin lines of pain across my skin. It’s like the forest is resisting me.
The cold bites at my cheeks, my limbs burn, but none of it matters. I can’t stop. I have to keep moving. If I stop, I’ll fall apart, completely and utterly shatter into pieces that no one will ever bother to pick up.
The mist clings to the forest, smothering everything in its path.
Damp leaves brush against my arms and droplets collect on my skin, but I hardly notice them.
My thoughts are too tangled, my mind too heavy with everything that’s happened, everything I’ve lost, and now this—this vólkin, this creature claiming me as his mate like I’m some object the goddesses handed over to him.
Anger roars through my veins, but it’s not enough to overcome the fear curling inside me.
How dare he? How dare he look into my soul without permission, dredging up the deepest wound left by Mother’s death?
The sight of those blue roses, her favorite flowers, was like a slap in the face. They were hers!
Mother . . . Why aren’t you here? Why did you leave me to face this by myself?
I stumble over a root and barely catch myself as I run. My head is still spinning from the smack Arnold’s friend gave me, and my vision swims for a second. I push it back, focusing on the pain in my legs, the stinging cuts on my arms, anything to keep myself grounded.
My lungs burn. My heart pounds so hard it drowns out the sound of my footsteps. But it doesn’t drown out his. The snap of branches behind me grows louder. Closer. I know it’s him. It has to be the vólkin.
A shiver crawls up my neck as I glance over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of dark movement through the fog. He’s there, somewhere. There’s no way I can outrun him. Look at him! He’s huge!
He could break me in half if he wanted to.
I search the area, desperate for somewhere to hide, but there’s nothing.
No shelter, no crevice, no hollow tree. How foolish am I?
How did I think I could outrun a vólkin?
They’ve surely trained their entire lives for the hunt, and here I am, tripping over roots like a scared animal.
He’s been gentle so far, but that could change.
His thighs quivered when he was pretending to be calm.
I stop beside an ancient tree. My chest heaves as I lean against it, but the bark digging into my back grounds me.
Still, my breath comes in short, shallow bursts, and my body trembles from exhaustion and fear.
The mist curls around me, choking in its embrace, and when I try to draw in air, every breath feels like pulling water into my lungs.
I can’t run anymore. There’s no point. He’ll catch me. He’ll always catch me.
My knees buckle, and I slide down the tree, resting against its trunk as the damp earth soaks my gown.
Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
Not now. Not in front of him. I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms as my anger simmers.
I don’t want to be this weak. I don’t want to feel this helpless. How did it all go so wrong?
Enough.
Something inside me snaps. The fear, the confusion, the overwhelming grief, I push it all aside, letting the anger flood through me. Yes. Anger is good.
How dare he call me his mate, acting as if he has any claim over me? I’ve been tossed around like a pawn in everyone else’s game—my mother’s death, Arnold’s kidnapping, and now this vólkin, this beast who thinks he can dictate my fate. No more.
My entire body shakes with fury. If this monster thinks I’m going to cower and run, he’s wrong. Dead wrong.
I hear him before I see him. His growls echoing through the mist, the heavy pounding of his paws against the earth like the drums of war.
My heart still races, but it’s no longer from fear.
It’s from the heat that pulses through my veins.
The sound of snapping branches and the thunder of his approach send a surge of vigor through me.
Bracing myself, I plant my feet firmly on the ground.
Come here, wolf.
I whirl around, jaw clenched, just in time to see him burst through the trees. His massive body crashes through the underbrush, but I don’t flinch. I stand my ground, glaring at him with all the strength I have left.
As he rears onto his hind paws, rising to his full height, I meet his gaze. “BACK. OFF!”
Theron’s hazel eyes lock onto mine.
The ground beneath my feet vibrates as he comes closer, closing the distance between us.
I take a step toward him, my right hand holding the spear tighter. “What do you want from me? You think you can just . . . take me? Is it that simple for you?” My voice cracks, but I press on. “You think you have a right to decide my future? To say I’m your mate? Who do you think you are?”
He needs to understand that I’m not some weak, fragile creature he can do whatever he wants with.
Without wasting time, I step forward again, and so does he, the ground shaking beneath his enormous paws.
The heat of his body draws me to him. I feel my right leg aching to move closer still.
It’s like he stares into my soul, calling me, forcing me to listen.
I’m angry, it pisses me off. Why, why can’t I control myself?
Stupid, foolish, delusional vólkin!
With my left hand, I grab a fistful of his fur and pull, making him lower himself toward me. His massive body bends easily to my demand.
I shove the sharpened tip of the spear into his chest, press it into the thick fur over his pounding heart.
“I’ve lost everything!” I shout. “Everything! And now you . . . you dare stand in front of me and act like this is what the goddesses want?” I can barely breathe.
“I don’t care about your bond, or your destiny, or whatever it is you’re talking about. I won’t be claimed by anyone!”
My hands shake, my grip tight on both the spear and his fur, but Theron doesn’t move. He doesn’t flinch. The spear digs into his chest, but it’s as if he doesn’t even notice it.
Gritting my teeth, I push the spear harder against him, desperate for some reaction, some proof that I can still do something, that I have some power in this situation.
But still, nothing. His body doesn’t even tense.
He just watches me. My anger burns hotter, frustration swelling inside me like a dam about to burst. I want him to hurt like I hurt.
I want him to be afraid of me like I’m afraid of the whole world.
My hands might shake, but I don’t let go of the fire burning inside me. I won’t let him take that from me too.
“We both carry burdens that the world will never understand,” he says, the rumble of his voice soothing me. I hate it.
What does he mean? He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know what I’ve been through, how much I’ve lost. He can’t.
“Do what you need to,” he continues. “But I will never harm you. And I will not leave you to carry your pain alone.”
With eyes wide open, I feel the fire in my chest flicker, then die. He doesn’t care about the spear drawing blood from his flesh. He doesn’t care that I’m shaking with rage. And worst of all, he’s not afraid of me.
The spear slips from my fingers and falls uselessly to the ground between us. The anger I’ve held on to, the fury that’s been burning inside me since my mother’s death, since Arnold’s attack, since this entire nightmare began—it crumbles. All of it crumbles.
Tears blur my vision. I try to hold them back, but it’s too much. I can’t keep it together anymore. A sob tears itself from my throat, and I collapse against him, tears falling down my face as my heart bursts open.
Theron doesn’t move. He stays perfectly still, letting me cling to him and bury my face in his chest. With my fingers still twisted in his fur, I sob—loud, ugly, broken sobs that I can’t control.
I don’t know how long I’ve been crying. Time feels meaningless in this moment, swallowed by the grief, the anger, the exhaustion that weighs down every part of me.
He still doesn’t move.
The warmth of his body seeps into mine, so unlike the cold dampness of the forest, and somehow, that makes me cry harder.
It’s too much, everything is too much. I’ve lost everything, and now I’m here, clinging to a beast I injured, soaking his fur with my tears as if that’s somehow going to make any of this better.
I hate this. I hate how weak I feel. I hate how broken I am right now, standing here, vulnerable in front of him. I should be able to handle this, but I can’t. I can’t!
I’m so sorry, Mother. I’m not strong. I’m sorry I’m not the daughter you wanted me to be.
I push my face deeper into his chest, trying to hide the ugly sound of my sobs, trying to muffle the humiliating way I’m breaking apart. Only Mother ever saw my tears. It’s not fair.
I feel so small next to him. His body towers over mine, his presence so . . . overwhelming.
It’s infuriating. It’s confusing. And it makes me want to scream.
“Why?” The word rips from my throat, barely audible through my sobs. “Why are you just standing there?” My voice cracks, and I hate it. I hate how desperate I sound.
My legs threaten to give out beneath me, but before I can collapse, I feel him move. His massive, clawed hands sliding beneath me as if I weigh nothing.
And then, before I can protest, he lifts me.
I freeze, my breath catching in my throat as he cradles me against his broad chest. My feet dangle above the ground, and suddenly, I’m staring directly into his glowing hazel eyes, close enough to make my heart race in ways that have nothing to do with fear.
I blink. Up close, he looks even more inhuman, and yet . . . not monstrous. The blue crystals on his forehead shine, casting reflections that dance across his fur. It’s mesmerizing, and my mind can’t make sense of any of it. Why did he pick me up?
All I can manage is to stare back at him, completely baffled.
“Put me down,” I whisper, though the words lack conviction. My voice sounds pathetic even to my own ears.
He doesn’t. He just holds me. His heart beats as fast as mine, but he stands still. Gaze calm. How can he be so composed while I’m falling apart in his arms?
“It’s so hard not to chase when the sweetest thing runs,” Theron whispers, his deep voice vibrating through his chest, so close to me now that I can feel every breath he takes.
I don’t know him. I can’t trust him.
“We are creatures of the chase, but it’s not fear I want you to run from. It’s the bond that pulls me to you, a force I’ve never felt in my life.”
I swallow hard, narrowing my eyes. “What are you talking about?” My voice trembles, but I force the words out. “You don’t know me.”
Theron’s eyes seem . . . sad.
Why does that sadden me? This is foolish.
“You’re right,” he says. “I don’t know you, but I want to. I want to understand everything about you.”
My hand tightens in his fur. “How can you talk about bonds and connections when I’ve lost everything? My mother is dead.”
I know he had nothing to do with it. I know he couldn’t know, but still.
Theron flinches at my words, his ears pulling back, but doesn’t let go.
His grip is firm but not painful. He holds me as if afraid I’ll shatter in his arms. “I cannot take away your pain,” he says, and the tenderness in his voice makes my heart ache, “but I can offer you a future where you are cherished and respected. I want to protect you, not because I think you need it, but because I want to.”
I shake my head, biting back the sob that rises in my throat. “I don’t need anyone. I don’t need you.”
The tears come despite my effort to stop them, and my chest feels like it’s about to cave in under it all. How much more can I take? How much more until I shatter?
Why am I fighting so much?
“We both carry burdens”—he says those painful words again—“burdens that the world will never understand. But I’m not asking you to trust me right now. Let me prove myself, one step at a time. Let me show you that I am a worthy male, worthy of being by your side.”
Why does he smell of blue roses?