Chapter 12 The Soul’s First Law
THE SOUL’S FIRST LAW
“A vólkin without his mate is strong. But a vólkin who chooses his mate above all else is unstoppable. The mate is the soul’s first law.”
—Elder A?na, Lesson of the Sacred Bond
Theron
While my mate bathes, I stand guard, every muscle in my body tense.
The forest is alive with its usual sounds—the rustling of leaves, the whisper of wind—but my attention is tuned to the splashes of water behind me.
Each one sharpens my awareness of her. I listen to every movement she makes, how the water slips over her skin, the way her fingers caress her body as she washes.
My cock leaks. Just at the thought of her behind me, so close and yet entirely out of reach. Calm yourself, Theron.
She deserves this moment of peace after the chaos she’s endured. I want to offer her a life where she’s never forced to suffer again. My every instinct demands I provide for her, care for her in ways she doesn’t yet understand, but I know I must give her time.
Clenching my fists, I try to focus on the task at paw. Stay alert.
I scan the forest for any threat, but the only sound I hear is my mate’s soft murmur to the leaf spirits near her, guarding her as I am. There’s something about hearing her speak to them. She’s interacting with my world. It’s finally become hers too.
Human females, according to what we’ve learned from Elder A?na, require frequent nourishment compared to vólkins.
That knowledge was once nothing but a piece of information, something to remember from lessons.
Now, it feels vital. She’ll need food soon.
She’s my responsibility, and I must feed her.
But I can’t leave her to go hunting. Not when she might bolt at any moment.
Even though she’s starting to let her guard down, I know fear and distrust are present in her heart. I must ensure she stays by my side long enough to realize she’s already home.
In human-lore lessons, Elder A?na taught us everything she knew about them, about their bodies, their needs, their way of life.
I was always fascinated by how much she knew.
She spoke of humans with deep respect, as if they were vulnerable yet strong at the same time.
I’d never seen a human before, but her descriptions painted vivid pictures in my mind.
Their bodies, so different from ours, require care in ways I hadn’t imagined before.
How will my mate adapt to our ways? Will she accept the life I can offer her, or will she always long for the world she left behind? She had a life before she met me, in a place I know nothing about, and I wonder if she’ll ever truly feel at home here.
What foods does she prefer? What does she enjoy in her quiet moments? Does she like mornings, or is she more content in the embrace of night? What simple joys bring her happiness? And what does she look like beneath her—
My ears twitch, catching a distant noise. A voice. A human voice. Two of them.
Humans. Here, in the forest. It shouldn’t be possible, wasn’t before the barrier fell. I strain my hearing, tracking the direction of the voices. They’re distant but still too close. Who would dare wander this far into the woods?
A threat. It has to be. This part of the forest, the lands surrounding ávera, was untouched by humans until last night, when everything changed. It can’t be a coincidence.
A low growl rumbles in my throat. Her safety is my priority. No one can touch her. No one can disrupt this fragile peace we’re beginning to build.
I inhale deeply. If they are here searching for Noel, they will not find her.
Not unless I allow it. My paw tightens into a fist, claws flexing against my palm as I prepare myself for whatever may come.
But I can’t leave her alone. I can’t abandon her, not even to investigate the source of the sound.
“Is something the matter?” Noel’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and when I turn to face her, she’s standing with her hands resting on her hips. Dampness makes the fabric of her dress cling to her curves, outlining her body in a way that tests every drop of my self-control.
Goddesses help me. She’s torturing me without even realizing it.
“Nothing to worry about,” I manage, keeping my voice steady. I force my gaze to stay on hers, even though my instincts are screaming at me to do anything but. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.
She tilts her head, her dark eyes searching mine, but she doesn’t seem satisfied with my response.
“You must be hungry,” I say. “Let’s find some food.”
As we walk through the forest, the underbrush parts for her.
The trees are watching my mate. Branches sway above us, leaves rustling in response to our passage.
Every now and then a twig snaps, and I find myself tensing, hyperaware of everything around us—both the unseen humans I can still hear and the rhythm of her steps beside me.
She moves with intention and focus, her eyes scanning the environment.
Her movements are graceful, her steps almost soundless, and I can tell that even though she’s new to these woods, she knows how to survive.
She might be small—so small that the brush barely touches the hem of her gown—but she’s not weak.
“Noel,” I say, unable to curb my curiosity any longer, “do you know how to identify which plants are safe to eat?”
“Actually, yes.” She stops and turns toward me, a spark of excitement lighting her eyes.
“My military training covered basic survival skills, including foraging.” She points toward a bush nearby, its branches heavy with bright berries.
“See those? They’re safe to eat. The uniform color, bright sheen, and how plump they are are good indicators.
Also, I recognize them from our training simulations. ”
I nod, my chest swelling with pride. My mate is smart. “You continue to surprise me,”
She turns away and keeps walking.
“What’s a military?” I ask, the word foreign on my tongue.
Noel blinks, clearly not expecting the question. She turns to face me fully. “It’s . . . an organized group of people trained to defend their land, their people. We follow orders from commanders, go on missions, and protect our villages from threats.”
A part of me relates to the structure she describes. It sounds so similar to the way vólkins train and protect our own. “So humans have their own warriors,” I muse aloud. “Like us.”
“Yes, I suppose so. We train to fight and survive, to protect what matters. It’s probably not so different from your kind.”
Interesting. The concept of a human defense system fascinates me. I’ve always known humans have their own methods of survival, since they don’t have sharp claws or thick pelts, but hearing it firstpaw from my mate makes it feel more real.
“So, you were a warrior,” I say. Both of us, then. A deadly pair.
“I had to be,” she answers, crouching beside the berry bush. “It was expected of me. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t questioned or doubted at every step. Especially since I’m a woman.”
“What does that mean?” Was her life more difficult because she’s a female? In ávera, females are precious.
“In my world,” my mate begins as she picks a berry, “women—females—are looked down on. We can’t even leave our villages . . . A woman born in Tárnov, dies in Tárnov. We all know that.”
Her words make me realize how different human societies must be. The more I learn about her, the more I want to understand the world she comes from.
But when a world forgets the worth of its females, it writes its own end. And I won’t let that happen.
As Noel munches on the berries we’ve gathered, we approach an apple tree, its branches laden with ripe fruit.
I’ve always preferred the taste of meat, but Elder A?na said humans love sweet tastes and that fruits are healthy for them.
I wonder if Noel enjoys all fruits or if some aren’t to her liking.
Leaf spirits move around us, their tiny lights dancing playfully in the leaves.
Noel’s gaze locks onto an apple hanging just out of her reach. How did she choose that exact one? They all look the same, but she’s been looking at them as if they’re not.
Her eyes shine with want as she prepares to jump for it, her body tensing. But before she can make the leap, she pauses, noticing the leaf spirits fluttering toward the branch. A few grip the stem, while others gather around the fruit, trying to pluck it free for her.
I lower the branch so my mate can have the apple she wants. There’s a snake wrapped around that branch, so I snap it away. My mate wanted that specific apple. The spirits pluck it for her, and she takes her first bite.
A low growl escapes my throat before I can stop myself.
Noel’s body stiffens in response, her head snapping up to look at me, concern lacing her expression.
The voices are near.
“What is it?” she asks. “You were tense by the stream too.”
I step back, my ears straining to catch more of the conversation. “There are two men not far from here,” I murmur. “They’ve been moving in our direction for some time now.”
Noel’s eyes widen. But fear isn’t what flashes across her face—it’s anger. She knows something I don’t.
“Two men?” she echoes through gritted teeth. “It’s Arnold . . . it has to be him, and his friend.”
At the mention of this male—Arnold—something cold and dark unfurls inside me. “Who is Arnold?” I ask, my voice low.
“Arnold is the man who kidnapped me,” she spits out, her free hand curling into a fist. “He tied me up, gagged me, and threw me into a carriage, planning to take me far away from Tárnov, my village. He wanted to . . . to take me to my death.”
She pauses, cracking her knuckles. “He’s always been like this. Always trying to break me. But this . . . This time he went too far. He knocked me unconscious, and I woke up bound, completely powerless. I had to escape before he could finish what he started.”
My claws dig deep into my palms as I try to keep control of the boiling rage inside me. The idea that someone, some male, dared to harm her—my mate—sends red-hot fury through me.
“He did what?” I growl, the words barely escaping through clenched teeth.
I will personally erase them from existence.
Noel nods, her expression hardened by the anger she clearly still holds. “He’s a coward. Always was. But this time, I swear . . .”
“He is dead,” I roar.