Chapter 17 Guarding the Dove
GUARDING THE DOVE
“To each, a mate will be given—not to possess, but to protect. In the arms of their chosen, the earth shall begin to breathe again.”
—Elder A?na, Oath of Guardianship, spoken beneath the moonlit trees
Theron
“It’s getting cold, and you should rest,” I tell my brave Noel. “Let me prepare a nest for you.”
She furrows her brow, tilting her head. “A nest?” she asks. “Like what birds make?”
I grin. “In a way, yes. A place of comfort, safety. For us, it’s where we rest and where we find peace after a long day.”
She blinks. “You mean . . . a bed?”
“A bed?” I repeat. “Yes, I suppose that’s what you’d call it.”
She raises an eyebrow. “It’s called a bed,” she insists, though her voice is gentle, not harsh.
I smile and nod. “A bed, then. Let me prepare your bed.”
“I can make my own bed,” she says as she sits on a log, one leg crossed over the other. I have never seen such a sitting position. I don’t think I could even sit like that, not with a sac. I haven’t seen our females sit like that either. Humans are so different.
“I know you can, but let me do this thing for you.” As she opens her mouth to protest, I say, “After you stabbed me, I should get to.”
She closes her mouth and looks to the side. Pride? I hum in amusement.
I begin gathering leaves and moss and arranging them beneath a large tree. Each piece I place is meant to cushion her, to make her feel at ease. The moonlight filters through the branches, glowing over the clearing and my beautiful mate.
The plush plants beneath my paws remind me of the nights I spent alone, waking from dreams that left me with an aching emptiness. Instinctively, I would reach out beside me, searching for someone, only to grasp at nothing but the cold air.
That emptiness, it’s all I’ve known for so long. And now, with her here, I feel the pull even stronger, the need to fill that void, to have her beside me. And to make her mine.
The way her body would fit perfectly in that space, the warmth she would bring to the cold, lonely nights. I want to be the one who comforts her, who protects her, who wakes beside her.
But I understand her. I see the anger and frustration in her eyes.
I want to tell her that I feel it, too, that the weight of it all crushes me as well.
But I can’t force her to understand, to feel the bond between us like I do.
I can’t make her accept this fate because it’s what I want.
And that’s the hardest part of all—holding back when every part of me, down to each individual hair, itches to claim what is mine.
I’ve never been patient. Never been this kind.
Before her, my life was simpler. Train, lead, protect.
It was all so clear. But now, I feel like I’m walking through the fog, lost in my own wants and needs.
I don’t know how to make her see it, how to explain the depth of this bond, how much I need her.
While I make the nest—no, the bed—I steal glances at Noel. She sits quietly, lost in her thoughts, her face bathed in the glow of the moonlight. Even through the fatigue I see in her eyes, there’s still that spark of will burning in her. She’s been through so much, yet she remains strong.
“It’s ready,” I say, stepping back to admire the bed-nest. “I hope you find it comfortable.”
Noel smiles, a tired but genuine smile. “Thank you, Theron. It looks perfect.”
As she settles into the nest, I sit beside her.
“I need to go back to Tárnov,” she whispers, almost as if she’s confessing something forbidden. “I need to understand what happened to my mother.”
“You told me her death was . . . sudden,” I say as I brush a leaf from her arm, “but what makes you think going back to Tárnov will give you answers?”
Noel’s gaze hardens as she turns her head, fire flaring in her eyes. “If I go back, maybe I’ll find something she left behind. I can’t just leave all that unresolved. I didn’t even go through the whole house yet.”
Though I understand her drive to uncover the truth, my instincts scream caution. “Do you think it’s safe to return to Tárnov now? You’ve said yourself that women aren’t allowed to leave. It’s dangerous.”
Her lips press together. “I know it’s not safe,” she admits. “But I can’t ignore what happened. People saw me with Arnold. The inn was crowded, there were witnesses. By now, the whole village is probably looking for me.”
She lets out a bitter laugh. “They’ll want to drag me back, or worse. There was this woman, years ago, who tried to leave. They caught her and hanged her in the village square. That was before I was even born, and since then, no woman has dared to try again.”
My stomach tightens at the thought of anyone harming her, and I struggle to keep my voice level. “So, they’re on high alert now. And you’d be putting yourself at risk by returning.”
Her expression falters. “But what choice do I have? If I don’t go back, I’ll never know the truth.”
I lean in. “There will be a time to find the answers you need, but rushing into Tárnov right now without a plan is not worth the risk. That makes you a target.”
She falls silent again. After a long, tense moment, she sighs, her shoulders slumping. “You’re right,” she murmurs. “I can’t just walk into Tárnov like nothing happened.”
I reach out, taking her hand in my paw. “When we get to ávera, we’ll seek guidance from the goddesses. They might be able to show us the path forward, to help us find the answers we need—safely.”
Noel looks at me, her eyes softening as she takes in my words. The tension in her body eases just a little. “Alright, we’ll go to ávera.”
“We’ll find out what happened to your mother, Noel. I promise.”
Her voice is barely audible over the rustling of the woods around us when she whispers, “Thank you.”
“Of course,” I say, adding more leaves under her head for comfort.
In the sacred glade, we will be able to speak to the goddesses. One of them appeared, and I received a sign. That is good. Perhaps the world is truly opening its arms to its Lidé?en. And that Lidé?en is my mate.
“You’re not going to sleep?” my little mate asks, her eyelids fluttering as she fights to stay awake. She’s adorable.
“Vólkins don’t sleep as much as humans,” I reply. “You need it more than I do, so rest well. We have a whole day tomorrow before we get to ávera.”
“If you get tired, wake me up, alright?” She can hardly manage to finish the sentence before she yawns. “I wake up to stand watch all the time. We do it in rotations in the military, so it isn’t new to me.”
As she settles in to sleep, I pull out some of my fur and add it into the bed-nest. She should be surrounded by my fur, should smell like me. The shedding season has begun, and I already left so much of myself on the forest floor.
“The goddess said something about a bonding ritual,” my mate murmurs.
“She did.”
“What is that? Sounds like a wedding.”
“I do not know what a wedding is, but a bonding ritual is a ceremony that binds two souls together: an earthly soul and an ethereal being,” I say, brushing out more of my fur.
“I’m not marrying yo—”
And just like that, she’s asleep, faster than any cub I’ve ever seen. I shall ask Elder A?na what’s mar-ry-ing when we arrive tomorrow.
My little dove’s breaths are soft and even, her body relaxing into the nest I made for her. She looks peaceful.
The way her gown drags over her as she moves, revealing a bit of her legs, the moonlight casting a lustrous glow over her skin—I feel it again. My shaft hardening despite my attempts to push the feeling away. Fuck.
This is not the time, not when she’s finally found some peace.
But it’s as if every instinct in me is drawn to her, begging for that connection. I take a deep breath. I must focus on anything else, but the sight of her, so serene, only makes it worse. I want her in every way, more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my four hundred years of living.
The day we’re close enough to sleep together, in every sense of the word, will be the day I howl my lungs away.
I’ll be the happiest vólkin alive. But right now my cock throbs painfully even thinking about it.
It stings. The torn part of her gown reveals smooth skin beneath, and I can’t hold back anymore.
I never thought a furless creature could be so irresistible.
I grasp my shaft, and I fight to suppress the growl rising in my throat. If I make too much noise, I’ll wake her.
My grip tightens as I begin to stroke slowly, inhaling her scent.
Goddesses, forgive me. Each stroke is torturous.
I speed up, unable to tear my eyes from her.
Her cheek is smushed against her hand, her lips parted slightly.
I want those lips on me, tasting me, wrapped around my beast. I can’t control it. I . . .
My hips start moving, meeting my paw. I’ve never been this desperate. If she saw me like this, she’d run, and I wouldn’t blame her. I’d run too. Calling myself a worthy male but stroking myself like this while I watch her sleep, it’s wrong.
Precum leaks over my paw as I stroke faster, rougher, holding back the growls and grunts of pleasure that want to rip from my chest. I want her to hear what she does to me.
Then she stirs, turning over in her sleep. Her gown rides higher, exposing more of her legs. I need those legs spread for me, need them wrapped around my waist as she takes my knot. As it stretches her hole that was made for me. For my seed.
My cock burns. I squeeze it, desperate to will the need away, but her scent . . . My mate. My Noel. This isn’t right. Not yet. But goddesses, it hurts.
It has never been painful before, not like this.
My head drops back, and I bite down on my tongue to stifle the sound, holding in the roar that threatens to escape.