Chapter 12
“Iam fine. Please just leave me the fuck alone. I want to see her.” Kaldrek’s voice cut through the quiet from a nearby lodge.
Evelyne flinched. She had not answered him through the bond since the moment she had nearly ended Alaric’s life.
After the chaos, after the screams and blood and cold, she had gone silent, and she had stayed that way through the long hours until morning, curled on the floor in a tight knot, rocking in the dark as though she might somehow piece the night back together if she relived it enough times.
Lorena had remained awake the entire night, moving from one body to the next, tending wounds. Cillian. Heidara. Kaldrek. But most of all, Alaric. She truly was the finest healer in the pack.
At least Heidara had not been badly hurt.
Cillian would bear bruises around his throat for some time, and his voice would remain raw for days, but the healer had brewed a bitter medicinal tea that eased the pain enough to let him sleep.
Evelyne had sat with her brother only briefly, just long enough to watch his chest rise and fall and hear steadiness return to his voice.
Then she slipped away before the sobs broke free in front of him.
And she had sobbed. She screamed too, into her hands, into a blanket, into the thin walls of the lodge.
Most of all after Cillian admitted he had been on his way to warn her about Alaric.
Because of course he had seen it first. Of course her brother had noticed what she had not, while she stood beside one of her closest friends and called it nothing.
The anger inside her was molten. Not at Cillian. Not even at Alaric. But at herself for missing it. For not seeing how far Alaric was slipping until it was too late.
He is not lost, she told herself fiercely, as if force alone might make it true. Not yet. They would find a way. Now that the pack understood what had happened to him, he would be watched, guarded, protected… even from himself.
According to Lorena, Alaric had been kept under heavy tonics for hours after showing signs of losing control again.
Yet all Evelyne could think of was the single moment when he had broken free, and how the memory of his panic-stricken face would haunt her for the rest of her life.
He had been afraid. Of her. His closest friend, poised to tear him apart.
It had happened with terrifying ease. One threat to Kaldrek, and something feral inside her had chosen for her before she ever could.
The truth of it turned her stomach: how swiftly she could become monstrous, how natural violence had felt when her mate’s life hung in the balance.
And Kaldrek… Kaldrek had almost died.
She had felt it. Seen it in his stunned eyes as Alaric’s fingers sank into his throat.
The slow withdrawal of that hand was burned into her now.
She could not bear to look at him yet, could not bear the sight of his pain and the knowledge that she had been too late by only a few heartbeats.
So she hid. Like a coward. Alone in her tiny lodge, barely more than a room, barely shelter at all, yet the best Wrenford had to offer.
It was not until pale daylight seeped through the cracks in the wood that she finally forced herself to stand and go to him. Still, she remained trembling outside the door, listening to her mate’s irritation rise under the prodding of his second.
“Holden, if you adjust the bandage on my throat one more time, I’m going to shove my boot so far up your—”
Kaldrek cut himself off mid-threat and sat up as fast as his injuries allowed the moment he spotted Evelyne in the doorway. His dark eyes swept over her thoroughly, like he was counting bones and searching for blood. Then his gaze warmed, and the smallest curve pulled at the side of his mouth.
Evelyne’s heart turned over in her chest. Bruised, stitched, exhausted, he was still devastating.
The most beautiful male she had ever seen, and he was hers.
Her gaze dropped to the place where his neck met his shoulder, to the mark there.
Her mark. His heartbeat slowed, just slightly, as though her presence eased something tight inside him, and the thought steadied her own breathing at last.
Kaldrek cast Holden a look heavy with silent impatience, the unmistakable command of an alpha wanting privacy.
Holden did not move. And Evelyne loved him for it. His duty was to protect his alpha, and any male willing to do that could stay exactly where he was.
“This one’s been a complete crank since his tonic wore off,” Holden said, smirking at Evelyne.
“I’m amazed Lorena didn’t prescribe a muzzle.”
Kaldrek lifted a brow and brushed a hand over the rough scruff along his jaw. Evelyne did not mind it. If anything, the longer beard made him look even less like the polished, clean-shaven lords back home, and far more like the sort of danger a lady ought to avoid at all costs.
Which only made her want him more, and the thought sent heat rushing into her cheeks.
His pupils flared as though he had felt the spark of it through the bond. Whatever you’re thinking, save it until this pest leaves… or I’ll drag him out by the collar, throw you onto this bed, and take my time reacquainting myself with every inch of you.
Evelyne swallowed hard. Holy hell.
“He’s quite stubborn, isn’t he?” she said, eyes flicking to Holden. “It’s a shame Lorena didn’t have a reason to stitch his mouth shut. Though I suppose I should be grateful there’s no scar to ruin that pretty face.”
Kaldrek’s eyes slid back to her. “You do seem rather fond of my mouth.” He winked.
Holden snorted. “Please. Get a room.”
“I have one,” Kaldrek said flatly. “Now leave.”
“Fine,” Holden grumbled. “But I’m going to be right outside this door.”
Evelyne gave him a soft, grateful smile as he did exactly that. It wasn’t privacy, not truly, but it was something.
“Get over here,” Kaldrek said smoothly.
Evelyne stopped at the edge of the bed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Kaldrek laughed. Not a gentle sound, but a short, rough bark of amusement. Then he sat up, caught her by the waist, and drew her into the bed with enough ease to startle a squeak from her.
He pressed his nose to her throat and inhaled like he needed the scent of her to steady himself. “You,” he murmured, “are a brutal little fighter. But you’re far too small to ever hurt me.”
Evelyne pulled back just enough to give him an unimpressed look. “Small?” she repeated. “Careful, Alpha. I’ve already proven I can bite.”
His mouth curved. “I’m counting on it.”
He kissed the mark at her neck, then nipped it. A soft sound slipped from her before she could stop it. But the warmth lasted only a heartbeat before the memory surged back in and the fear of losing her mate almost sent her off the rails.
“Kaldrek,” she whispered.
He stilled at her tone.
“I thought he was going to kill you,” she said, her voice breaking. “And I…” She swallowed hard as his arms tightened around her. “I couldn’t stop myself. I—”
“I know,” he said.
Tears spilled down her face as the last of the shock broke through her—the fear, the horror of how close she had come to taking Alaric’s life, and beneath it all, the overwhelming relief that Kaldrek was still here.
“Hey.” Kaldrek shifted, gentle but firm. “Hey. Look at me.” He caught her chin and turned her face to his. His eyes were steady, anchoring. “Listen to me, love.”
Evelyne nodded, lashes fluttering shut.
“You’re new to all of it. The instincts.
The senses. The way everything hits harder.
” His thumb brushed her cheek. “And that’s before we even count the bond.
Or what you’ve been forced to survive these past months.
” His voice dropped. “You acted like a wolf. You acted like my mate. You protected me.”
She shook her head, tears falling harder. “He looked so afraid.”
Kaldrek’s expression gentled. “Yes,” he said quietly. “He was afraid. He likely still is. He is fighting something too.”
He was right. Alaric was not only grappling with unfamiliar instincts. He was fighting for his mind. For his soul. Beside that, Evelyne’s shame suddenly seemed smaller.
Kaldrek kissed her cheek. “You are good, Evelyne,” he murmured. “Always. So good I still don’t understand how you ended up with me.”
Despite everything, a small smile tugged at her mouth. She leaned into him.
“And you’re well?” she asked, because she needed to hear it aloud.
“Yes, love,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”
Her body loosened, just a little. Then the question that had been clawing at her finally escaped. “What do we do when Alaric wakes?”
“Don’t you worry about it, little viper,” Holden called from the other side of the door. “Nathan and Obren are already on patrol duty.”
Evelyne’s eyes widened. “We really have no privacy.”
“Holden,” Kaldrek said flatly, warning threaded through his tone.
Holden went quiet. Wisely.
Kaldrek exhaled and returned his attention to her. “Lorena’s been gathering the strongest tonics she can to keep him under as long as possible,” he said. “But the truth is… we don’t know what happens next.”
Evelyne’s throat tightened. “Then what do we do?”
“I do have one idea,” Kaldrek said carefully, watching her face. “I wanted to run it by you.”
“Yes.” Her voice didn’t shake this time. “Anything to help him.”
Kaldrek hesitated just long enough that her stomach sank. “We know someone who has brought another back from the darkness.”
The room seemed to tilt beneath her.
Cold tore through Evelyne so fast it hollowed her out.
In an instant, her mind filled with the image of Cillian, burning with light as he forced the magic from Vaelora’s body.
She saw him crumple to the throne room floor, heard the ragged pull of his breath, remembered the fear that he had burned himself out. That it had nearly killed him.
Not him.
Not her brother. Not again.
“No,” she said, and the word came out as a vow rather than a plea. “Cillian has spent enough of himself being the answer to everyone else’s desperation.”
“We do not have to ask him,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Not unless you want to.”
Evelyne swallowed, her pulse pounding.
Because that was the cruelest part of it. Wanting had nothing to do with it.