Chapter Thirty-Three
Shaw Black
Gods above, today felt like it would never end.
I stepped into my bathing chamber and turned the handle until the water was steaming from the faucet.
Stripping off my sweat-soaked clothes, I lazily threw them in a pile on the floor.
Turning, I gazed into the floor-length mirror placed next to the oversized clawfoot tub, staring at the reflection as the water slowly filled.
The male in the mirror stared back like a stranger.
The scars along my arms were old. Some were nearly faded, while others were angry and raised, but each one was a tally mark of survival—a map of every mistake, every lesson carved into my skin.
The humans had started the first lines when I’d been too young to understand cruelty; the rest I’d gathered on my own path through war and wilderness.
The panther that lived beneath my skin stirred, pacing under the surface like it always did when I was bone-tired and wound tight.
We had two nights until we returned to Solace. Two nights until we walked into the fight that would decide the fate of everyone I cared about.
You’d think the weight of that would shatter my sanity… It should. But I’d been through worse and survived. I would survive this, too.
I rolled my shoulders, watching as my muscles bunched and flexed along my scars.
I needed to be calm, controlled, calculated. That was what everyone saw when they looked at me. I was the beta who never faltered, the one who made plans while others burned hot with fury or fear. They never saw the storm underneath my calm.
Steam curled around me, warm and thick, coaxing out tension I hadn’t realized I’d locked into my spine.
I dragged a hand through my hair. “You’ve looked better,” I muttered to the reflection.
The half-smirk tugging at my mouth lacked any real humor.
The truth was, beneath the exhaustion, beneath the scars and the quiet calculation, something else flickered.
A strange, restless anticipation curled around my ribs, making it difficult to breathe.
I hadn’t felt something like this since I’d survived torture as a youngling.
Before the cages, the cold floors, and the sound of boots approaching with steel meant for slicing my flesh.
Before I learned that survival meant staying one step ahead at all times.
But now? Standing here on the edge of the last moments of quiet before the final battle, something inside me felt awake.
I exhaled slowly as I stepped into the tub, letting the heat swallow me whole. Lowering into the steaming water, my muscles relaxed, the tension seeping from my body. But doing absolutely nothing to quiet my mind.
Because the moment I stopped moving, stopped calculating attack formations or battle strategies… Zola filled every second of my spare thoughts.
Our unsealed bond caused a maddening itch under my skin. My panther clawed at me from inside, making me restless. Zola was deadly, mysterious, fierce in a way that made my blood heat, and my thoughts sharpen. The most captivating creature I’d ever laid eyes on in this cursed world.
I’d fought against hunters, monsters, and mages.
But Zola?
Zola was something worth fighting for.
Tonight. I’ll find you tonight, she’d told me after our training, giving me nothing else to hold on to.
No time. No place. Just a promise.
I exhaled a rough breath, dropping my head back against the tub’s rim. “What does she want?” I muttered. “What did she mean? Where—”
I stopped myself with a groan, scrubbing both hands over my face.
“Great. Now I’m spiraling and asking countless questions like Skylar.”
Silence settled heavy around me, broken only by the slosh of water as I shifted under the surface. I’d never questioned if I was worthy of Zola. What mattered to me was earning her trust.
I would fight for her. Stand beside her. Gods above, I would become anything she needed.
Whatever it took to earn her trust, her certainty… her choice to seal the bond. Then, once she was mine, once we belonged to each other, there wouldn’t be a force in this world capable of stopping us.
Steam curled around me as I released a caged breath. “Tonight,” I whispered, anticipation swirling like the shifting tide.
The water had gone from soothing to suffocating, the restlessness threading too tight beneath my skin.
I rose from the tub, water cascading down my chest, and grabbed a towel.
I wrapped it around my waist, finding another to finish drying my soaked hair when a slow, lazy knock echoed through the chamber.
I froze.
“Gods,” I muttered under my breath, “that better not be Castor.”
If the male had another last-minute strategy or some insane theory about shifter mating rituals, there would likely be a Castor-sized hole in the nearest wall.
I grumbled on my way to the door, tugging the towel securely around my hips, and yanked it open with a scowl already forming.
Open air from the walkway swirled as the door opened, and my frown died instantly.
Zola stood in the doorway.
I swallowed heavily, taking in the sight of her.
“Zola,” I breathed.
She blinked up at me, leaning against the frame with arms crossed at her chest. “Shaw.”
Her cheeks were faintly flushed under her tawny skin. Her normally biting gaze was a little too soft, a little too unfocused.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in, shifter?”
“You don’t need an invitation,” I said, stepping aside.
She raised her brow, pushing off the frame, and entered. It was endearing how she was trying very, very hard to hide it. The slight sway of her stance and the way her fingers curled against the doorframe for balance would have gone unnoticed by anyone—aside from me.
I’d spent enough time studying her to catch even the smallest crack in her armor.
The toe of her boot caught on the edge of the rug, and I moved without thinking.
I caught her around the waist and turned her toward me, her body crashing against mine.
Heat shot through me so fast it stole my breath.
Her hands gripped my shoulders, fingers digging into bare skin.
And her eyes? Her eyes swept boldly, hungrily, over every exposed inch of me.
The world narrowed to a single heartbeat. And every stupid question once swirling in my head vanished. I could sense my female’s emotions rising, threatening to break through the walls that kept everyone in her life at bay.
Then, the bond flared in a violent pulse of heat, swirling with desire and longing. The need for a connection.
My panther slammed against me with a snarl, claws scraping, fangs bared. The instinct to seal our bond gnawed at the final threads of my self-control.
My mate.
Claim her. Bite her. Consume her. Take her.
The instinct was so sharp, so primal, it punched the air from my lungs. I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself as her body pressed into mine. Her scent of rain and steel wrapped around me like the shadows at her command.
“Shaw,” she whispered, her voice soft and breathy.
My grip tightened involuntarily on her waist, keeping her upright, keeping her close. Gods, she felt like fire in my arms, and I was willing to burn alongside her if she’d let me.
Every breath in my body… every piece of the caged, tortured, hardened male I’d been forged into roared with a single truth: Zola is mine.
I forced a breath past the pounding heat, voice low. “Zola,” I said, trying to remain in control, “what are you doing here?”
Zola’s fingers curled into my shoulders, her breathing brushing warmth across my chest.
“I was coming to find you,” she murmured, before swallowing heavily.
This was unlike her. My head was spinning trying to figure her out.
“I came here to tell you that I-I wanted…” Her words tangled, drifting off.
A pulse of desire roared through me, threatening to swallow reason whole. But I forced myself to settle and hold on to the thin thread of control I had left.
My female wasn’t herself. There was a hesitation in her voice that I couldn’t bear to hear. No matter how much the bond burned, I would not claim her tonight.
I pulled back enough to look into her eyes. “No.”
The word came out low, strained, and her face snapped up at me, offense slicing through her haze. She jerked back, stumbling, brows narrowing into a scowl.
But my arms tightened, steadying her before she could leave. I couldn’t let her go.
“Shaw?” she asked, hurt and anger flickering across her features. “Don’t you want to—”
“You’re not going anywhere tonight.” My voice was firmer than I intended, strained with everything I was fighting back. “I won’t allow it.”
Her lips parted as her look of shock softened. She gazed up at me, eyes glassy and searching. “If we’re not going to sleep together,” she said slowly, each word dipped in confusion, “then what are we going to do?”
I couldn’t help it as a laugh slipped out of me. “We’re going to sleep together,” I said, leaning in, brushing a strand of her hair behind her pointed ear. My voice dropped to a deep rumble. “Just… not like that.”
Her breath caught.
“I mean,” I clarified, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth, “you’re going to sleep next to me in my bed, where I can keep you safe.”
Her eyes widened with surprise, and I couldn’t help the pride swelling in my chest at the sight of it.
“And you’ll stay here,” I added, softer, but no less certain, “for the whole damn night.”
“I don’t do sleepovers.”
“You do now,” I said with a deep growl in my chest. “With me.”
Because no force in all of Valdor, not war, not fear, not fate itself, was going to drag her out of my arms tonight.