Chapter 15
Iknew I should have slept on the damn ground.
On the first morning since arriving at camp, I wake to find my arm wrapped around Aurelia’s waist and her little body pressed firmly against my painfully hard cock.
These beds are only made for one person, and if Aurelia weren’t so tiny, we never would have fit.
Since most couples are placed on separate patrols, it’s not as if they’re often in the tent at the same time, and if they are, the bed probably wouldn’t be used for sleeping.
Still, I don’t remember ending up in this position. I must have rolled over in my sleep.
Horrified, I try to disentangle myself from Aurelia without waking her. She shifts and hums a sleepy sound.
Please don’t wake up. For the love of the fucking gods, please don’t wake up.
I ease away from her and stand up, striding quickly out of the tent. The sun has just barely risen, and I glance around the quiet camp, a frustrated sound rumbling through my chest.
My cock throbs and my breathing comes out ragged. I need to take care of this, but with my luck, someone will hear me. That would be fucking embarrassing, but more importantly, it would also raise a lot of questions.
There have already been a lot of damn questions, as it is.
Kai was true to his word, and it seems like Viktor and the others who saw Aurelia use her magic haven’t said anything, but of course everyone is still wondering. They’re still anxious around her.
We’ve only been here a day. I wouldn’t be worried about it, except that Aurelia isn’t acting like she’s mated—which pisses me off for reasons I’m afraid have nothing to do with giving our lie away.
She hardly looked at me at all last night.
She nearly took food from Kai’s son, which wouldn’t have been that big of a deal since he’s a kid, but at least shows she doesn’t understand the rules.
She wasn’t possessive around Runa, and worst of all, Aurelia doesn’t understand what it’s like to talk telepathically so she’s not doing a good job of pretending to—if she’s even bothering at all.
No one asked me directly about it at dinner, but I heard people wondering out loud. Most of them seem to think that the issue is that she’s Fae, which inevitably leads to gossip about my Fae mother. I’ve never been so glad to hear people talking about it.
I wish I had never pretended Aurelia was my mate—that I had never followed her into the woods, that we had never slept together.
If I had never met this crazy woman I wouldn’t be in this insane position now, trying to keep her alive while waking up hard next to her and going to sleep fighting the desire to touch her.
Angrily, I shift into a wolf and go for a run.
Most shifters spend the majority of our time in our other forms. We aren’t born as wolves; we’re born as people, so we view the wolf as the secondary form.
Lately, I’m starting to feel like the wolf is a completely separate entity.
The wolf wants Aurelia. He—it—wants me to claim her, and I feel like I’m fighting on all sides to avoid it.
I run long enough that my head clears and I’m able to focus again. Still, I don’t return to the tent. Pulling on my trousers and shoes, I stomp into the center of camp without a shirt. I’m not the only one; many of the men are in some state of undress.
I walk over to the fire where someone is making an enormous pot of porridge. A few people nod to me as I pass, and I hear a chorus of greetings in my head.
It’s strange. The last time I was in a camp like this, no one was even half as friendly.
I was a small kid, and when I was young, no one made a secret of the fact that I was expected to die the morning of my twelfth birthday.
All children train from the time they can walk, but if possible, we don’t send them out on hunts until they’re twelve. I know many would like to keep the children out of harm’s way longer, but it’s usually not possible.
I knew I was fucked the very first time I ever set foot on a training field.
Perhaps not in so many words, but I was aware that I was smaller than everyone else and behind in training.
I was six, which in these camps is practically geriatric, and I’d missed out on years of training that the others had already mastered.
I also had a Fae mother, which most wolves viewed as a weakness.
It turned out that not wanting to die was a powerful motivator, and I spent the next six years training harder than anyone else.
I was still small when I reached my twelfth birthday, but I didn’t die on my first hunt like everyone expected.
I didn’t die on the next one either, or the hundred after that.
Then, when I was fifteen, I suddenly grew over a foot and gained a hundred pounds of muscle in a matter of months.
After that, most wolves kept their opinions to themselves and stopped talking about my Fae mother or trying to piss me off enough to force my wings to come out.
They never treated me this well, though.
I’ve never seen wolves smile, or otherwise get out of the way when I walk past like they are this morning. Perhaps it’s like I told Aurelia last night, and they’re simply impressed that I survived Dyaspora.
Maybe it’s that, as far as they know, I’m the only wolf to have formed a mate bond in decades.
Maybe they’re just scared of me, I don’t fucking know.
I collect a bowl of porridge and fruit, and go to sit by myself on a log beside the enormous bonfire. I’ve barely raised my spoon to take a bite when a soft voice sounds in my head. “Morning.”
I turn slowly, already knowing that Runa is right behind me.
She’s clearly about to leave on a hunt as she’s dressed in armor with her long blonde hair tied back in two braids and has a broadsword strapped to her back.
I nod at her in vague acknowledgement—to do anything else would be wildly inappropriate, and she’s well aware of it.
I’m startled when she walks around and sits down next to me. I abruptly shift over a foot, giving her a wide berth.
She rolls her eyes. “Stop! I want to talk to you.”
“You’re the one who needs to stop.”
“It’s not like that.”
“It’s exactly like that.”
The social rules for wolves are complicated and involve a lot of ceremonial displays of respect.
Most of it is bullshit, and I normally wouldn’t care about any of it, but since Aurelia and I are already in a dangerous position and lying about our mating, I can’t ignore the rules, especially not out in the open like this.
Just like I needed to introduce Kai to “my mate,” Runa really shouldn’t have spoken to me before acknowledging Aurelia. That’s why I couldn’t let Aurelia shake Runa’s hand—it would have made the wolves think she could be disrespected and I wouldn’t care.
Runa blows out a frustrated breath. “I just wanted to…I don’t know. Talk? I thought you were dead.”
“I’m not.” My tone sounds short even in my head.
“I hoped you were,” she says boldly.
I raise my eyebrows. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“That came out wrong. I mean, I know Dyaspora is worse than death. I hoped you died.”
I close my eyes. “We can’t have this conversation.”
“You got full of yourself over the last few decades. You’re mated to the witch, I get that, I don’t understand why that means we can’t talk.”
I growl. “Don’t call her that.”
Runa tilts her head, flashing her neck for a fraction of a second, as if to say: “sorry.”
I furrow my eyebrows and turn away. The irony isn’t lost on me that I call Aurelia “witch” all the time, but I don’t mean it the way Runa did.
At least, I don’t mean it that way anymore.
What worries me is Kai said Runa is sharing a tent with Viktor now.
Did he tell her about Aurelia using magic against the wyvern, or is it a coincidence?
“How long have you been out of Dyaspora?” Runa asks in a softer tone.
“Two years,” I answer automatically. My mind is still racing, wondering if Viktor hasn’t been as quiet as Kai seems to think. I should go back to the tent, just in case Aurelia isn’t safe there alone.
“And you’ve been mated that whole time?” Runa prods.
“No.”
Hmm, that’s a fair question. Aurelia and I should probably agree on exactly what our story is in case anyone else asks how long we’ve been mated. I wonder if she’s still asleep. Maybe I should bring her something to eat?
“Are you listening to me?”
I startle and glance back at Runa. “No.”
She makes a frustrated sound and speaks out loud for the first time. “Are you angry with me?”
I stiffen when a few people glance our way, and what little chatter was going on in the nearly empty camp all seems too quiet.
“No,” I growl. It’s half true. I’m not angry about anything that happened years ago, but I am getting pretty pissed off that she won’t drop this subject and walk away.
Runa glances around and switches back to speaking mind-to-mind. “Is it her, then? She’s angry with me.”
“Aurelia has no idea who you are and wouldn’t care if she did.”
“Then I don’t understand the problem. Surely we can still be…friends?”
“We were never friends.”
Runa winces, but she doesn’t try to argue; She’s well aware that we were absolutely not friends.
I shared a tent with Runa for years, from the time I was twenty-one until I was sent to Dyaspora at twenty-five. In all that time, we never talked much outside of basic communication.
We were both away on hunts, and usually weren’t in the same hunting party.
On the rare occasion that we were at camp at the same time, we fucked and not much else.
We never had conversations in bed; I never felt all that possessive of her.
I don’t even remember being all that worried about her going out on hunts all the time.
I think we talked about children once, but only because all wolves have lots of pups. I vividly remember being relieved that she didn’t want any yet. I didn’t either, not when I’d have to send them out on hunts the moment they turned twelve.