Chapter 17 #2
I shove him. “Your father hates me!” When he doesn’t deny it, I laugh, the sound lost to a sudden gust of harsh winter wind. “You’re crazy if you think I’ll ever mate with you.” To emphasize my point, I push him again, grateful when he takes two steps back. “I’d rather die!”
Ignoring my outburst, Alistair crosses his arms and has the audacity to look annoyed. “Why did you kiss me?”
I don’t have an answer other than the truth, and I refuse to tell the man that his lips are holy relics I could worship until the end of time. Gods, how pathetic is that? “Why does it matter? It won’t happen again.”
“It matters,” he growls, “because your life isn’t the only one at stake.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Anger pulses through my veins.
“Every day in the wilds is a gamble with death, and guess what? It’s winning.
” I throw my arm out and gesture to the snowy mountains and beyond, where the wilds and its rot lies.
“All our lives are at stake, Alistair, every single day we exist. Don’t preach to me about risk when you’ve never spent a day outside your precious pack territory. ”
He smoothes his expression, effectively cutting me off from understanding any shred of his turbulent emotions.
“This was a mistake, then. You don’t want .
. .” He swallows the rest of his thoughts, jaw clenching as he turns away.
“Of course you don’t. I shouldn’t have assumed.
” Backing up, he jumps onto the railing and swings one leg over to straddle the icy stone.
Then he glances down like he’s going to jump.
A sudden sense of peace washes over him, and my heart leaps to my throat.
He’s beautiful when the world around him disappears.
Gripping the railing, Alistair leans back and tilts his head up toward the moon, bathing himself in its soft light. Fiery tendrils of hair caress his ears, blown back from his forehead by the wind. His eyes continue to glow that same summer gold, so close to mine that it’s like we’re—
A gentle smile curves on his lips, so hauntingly beautiful that my heart cracks.
“I’m going for a run,” he says softly, “before I make any other mistakes tonight.” The autumn freckles on his cheeks dust his shoulders and trail down his arms, reminding me of a riverbank at sunrise.
As I drink in his appearance, he does the same to me, igniting a fire in his eyes that suggests more than either of us should entertain.
But I guess we’re both gluttons for punishment, because I can’t keep my mouth shut. “Like what?” I ask.
His smile falters. “Like kiss my mate.” Then he sighs and subtly shakes his head. “Or invite her to run with me.” When he looks up, the invitation lingers in his gaze, an unspoken desire for company from the last woman he should ever crave.
And yet, here we are, stealing precious time from each other.
“I’m not your mate, Alistair,” I whisper, unwilling to unravel why that admission feels as heavy as a rainstorm.
He shrugs a shoulder like we’re having a casual conversation. “Would that stop you from saying yes?”
My heartbeat kicks like a drum. The desire to let my wolf out and run thrums beneath my skin.
But it’s not only the influence of the oncoming full moon or the thrill of the run itself that entices me—it’s Alistair himself.
Some bone-deep part of me resonates with something inside of him .
. . and that makes everything involving him ten times more dangerous.
Because if he remembers what he saw that first night on the mountain, he knows my secret.
And he just asked me to reveal it.
“You’re a bastard.” Shaking my head, I blow out a breath and try not to laugh. This is just a trick to get my guard down and set me up for the kill. I’m so fucking stupid. “I’ll admit, you had me going there for a minute.”
Confusion ripples across Alistair’s face. “What are you talking about?”
I gesture between us. “This. I don’t care what kind of magic you laced that smoke with; it doesn’t change the facts. You’re the upcoming Alpha of the Dire pack, and I’m—” My voice cracks. Wild. Broken. Dangerous. Selfish. Hybrid. Take your pick. They all fit.
There’s no way that Alistair would ever want me. The minute I give in is the moment he’ll wrap a noose around my neck.
Alistair exhales, the weight of it dragging him down. He nearly slides off the railing but catches himself before he falls. “I’ve kept your secret.” Shaking his head, he laughs, a soft, fragile sound. “So maybe I’m not as much of a bastard as you think I am.”
Or maybe he’s worse.
“I’m not running anywhere with you, Alistair.
” I cross my arms and hug them to my chest to soothe my disappointment.
I’d love to run for miles on end without a care in the world about who sees.
In some places of the wilds, I could. Revyn would take me to these pockets of abandoned territory, places where the rot hadn’t reached yet, and let me run for hours.
At the time, I thought he was being strategic to avoid dangerous areas, but in reality, he was hiding me from pack patrols or passerby who might realize that I’m different. . . that I’m not a full-blooded wolf.
I don’t know what compelled my father to bond with my non-shifter mother, but I find myself angry with my parents for having me in the first place. Then I wonder if they were in love or if they merely bonded out of necessity. Either option feels like a punch to the gut.
Closing my eyes, I hold back tears of frustration. None of this is fair.
Just like being indebted to Alistair isn’t fucking fair.
“What do you want?” I ask him, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “Another kiss? A blow job? I’m fresh out of coin, so I can’t help you there.” My skin crawls at the thought of Alistair blackmailing me. “Just tell me what you want in exchange for your silence, and we can both move on.”
He recoils like I’ve slapped him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I hiss, suddenly standing scant inches away and shoving him. He grabs the railing to keep from tumbling over the edge. “I can’t go running with you! I shouldn’t be anywhere near you!”
His eyes glow bright gold as his anger flares.
“Like I want to be this close to you?” A bitter laugh catches in his throat.
“Gods, I’d do anything to get you out of my fucking head, Wildfire.
” He winds his fist in my hair and holds me at arm’s length, the arch of my neck painful as he pulls my head back.
“You are a constant storm clouding my thoughts. An inferno inside my goddamn soul. And yet—” He laughs again, louder this time. “It’s like you don’t even care!”
“Care about what? You?”
“Yes!” Alistair’s anger burns like a brand, his touch searing my skin as he grabs my neck and hauls me closer.
Squeezing my throat, he bares his teeth.
“Are you so blinded by your affection for Revyn that you can’t fathom being bound to anyone else?
Is that it?” The fist in my hair unfurls as he threads his fingers through the strands.
“Or are you truly so out of touch with your wolf that you can’t recognize a bond when it manifests? ”
I stare at him and fight the panic threatening to rise. That feeling of knowing—the warmth overflowing inside my heart—makes it impossible to breathe. “No, that’s—that’s not possible.”
I can’t be bonded with Alistair.
That would mean that we’re more than adversaries. More than unlikely friends or catastrophic neighbors. We’d be doomed.
“It’s not possible,” I repeat, desperately prying his fingers from my throat. “Let go of me!”
“It is possible, Sienna. Can’t you feel it?” The soft, silver glow of moonlight accentuates his features: the sharp cheekbones, the flush of his skin, the frightening resemblance of his golden irises to mine. “This invisible thread tying us together—”
“All you do is tie me in knots!”
“That’s exactly my point!”
We growl in sync, our voices harmonizing, and I finally tear away from his grip.
Stumbling back, I snarl at him. “No fucking way. I refuse.” Alistair fucking Dire is the last shifter on earth I could ever be bonded with.
The future I’ve planned for myself would instantly go up in flames.
I wouldn’t gain a pack with Alistair—I’d gain a lifelong prison sentence.
“You can’t refuse fate,” Alistair replies somberly, his eyes returning to their normal hue as he calms down. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“Then try harder.” I resist the urge to pace and tear open my balcony door.
I need space. Somewhere to think without Alistair’s scent invading the very air I fucking breathe.
Slamming the door in his face, I swallow a scream as the cracked glass splinters.
When I look back through the broken window, Alistair has disappeared.
A wolf howls at the base of the castle, joining a chorus of others as they tear across frozen earth and run from their problems .
. . or in Alistair’s case, from his fate.
If what he’s suggesting is true, we’re royally fucked.
I’ve been operating under the assumption that true mates are so rare they’re practically myth.
If they happen to be real—and if I actually have one—then it’s only a matter of time before fate stops stringing us along and actually ties us together.
Permanently.