Chapter 18
The cabin had never felt smaller. Ember stood by the table, watching the two strangers settle onto the rough-hewn bench by the fire.
The woman looked around curiously, a warm smile on her pretty face.
The two adyani had curled up near the door like oversized hounds, their yellow eyes half-lidded but watchful.
Korrin sat beside his mate with the coiled readiness of a predator who’d learned to rest without ever truly relaxing. His amber gaze kept drifting to Rykan, who stood by the window with his arms crossed, radiating tension like heat from a forge.
The silence stretched uncomfortably.
“Would you like some tea?” she asked suddenly, because someone had to say something, and she’d spent enough years watching her father navigate tense business negotiations to recognize a standoff when she saw one.
Neither male responded but the woman nodded, and she set the kettle on to boil, grateful for something to do with her hands. Behind her, she heard the woman murmur something to Korrin, too low to catch, and his answering grunt.
“We should introduce ourselves properly.” The woman’s voice was warm and gentle. “I’m Tessa. This is Korrin, my mate. And you are…?”
She glanced over her shoulder, meeting the other woman’s eyes. There was genuine curiosity there, not judgment, and she relaxed just a little.
“Ember.” She hesitated, then added, “Duvain.”
Korrin’s eyebrow rose. “Duvain. As in Duvain Enterprises?”
“My father’s company.” My company now, she didn’t say, because speaking those words aloud would make everything too real. “Yes.”
“Interesting.” Korrin’s gaze sharpened, but he didn’t press. Instead, he looked at Rykan. “And you? I didn’t catch a name before you tried to take my head off.”
“Rykan.” The word was clipped, reluctant. “Just Rykan.”
“No pack name?”
“No.”
Another weighted silence. She busied herself with the kettle, measuring dried herbs into the battered tea pot she’d learned to use over the past weeks. Her fingers moved automatically now, a far cry from the fumbling disasters of her first attempts.
“We’re not here to cause trouble.” Tessa shifted on the bench, her posture open and unthreatening. “Korrin’s been traveling the mountains searching for exiles. Vultor who’ve left their packs or been cast out. We’re offering them a place with Soren’s pack.”
She turned at that, curious despite herself. “Soren?”
“Our Alpha.” Korrin’s voice carried a note of respect. “He’s trying to build something different. A pack that doesn’t follow the old ways. One where strength isn’t the only measure of worth.”
“Sounds idealistic.” Rykan hadn’t moved from the window, his arms crossed defensively across his chest.
“Maybe.” Korrin shrugged. “But it’s working. We’ve taken in a dozen exiles over the past year. Vultor who would have died alone in the mountains, or worse. Soren gives them protection, and a place to belong.”
“And what does Soren get in return?”
“Loyalty. Numbers.” Korrin’s lips curved, showing a hint of fang. “The old packs are dying, Rykan. They’re too rigid, too bound by tradition. Soren understands that the world is changing. The Vultor have to change with it or fade into nothing.”
She brought the tea to the table, setting out four mismatched cups. She noticed how Rykan’s jaw tightened at Korrin’s words, his shoulders drawing up like a male bracing for a blow.
“I left my pack voluntarily,” he said. “I’m not looking for a new one.”
Korrin studied him for a long moment, something knowing in his amber eyes. “You have alpha blood, don’t you?”
Rykan flinched, and she saw the brief flash of raw pain before his expression shuttered into blankness.
“How did you—”
“You carry yourself like an alpha. The way you moved when you thought your female was threatened—that wasn’t just protective instinct. That was territorial dominance.” Korrin leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You were meant to lead, weren’t you? Before something went wrong.”
“Korrin.” Tessa’s voice carried a gentle warning. “That’s personal.”
“It’s relevant.” But Korrin eased back, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “I’m not trying to dig into your past, Rykan. I’m just saying that Soren could use someone like you. An alpha without a pack is a waste of potential.”
“I’m not interested.”
“Fair enough.” Korrin accepted his tea from Ember with a nod of thanks. “The offer stands if you change your mind.”
She sat at the table, wrapping her hands around her own cup for warmth as the herbs released their soothing fragrance.
“You mentioned Soren is trying to change the old ways,” she said carefully. “What does that mean, exactly?”
Korrin’s attention shifted to her. “It means he’s not content to let the Vultor remain isolated in the mountains, snarling at every human who wanders too close. He wants to build relationships. Trade partnerships. Mutual benefit instead of mutual suspicion.”
Her eyes lit up—the familiar quickening of her mind when it encountered an interesting problem.
Trade partnerships. Economic cooperation.
The potential for cross-species commerce on Cresca was enormous, but the barriers had always seemed insurmountable because of the cultural differences and the weight of old grievances and older fears.
“What kind of trade?” she asked, leaning forward.
“I know the Vultor have access to resources that are difficult for human settlements to obtain—rare minerals from the deep caves, certain medicinal plants that only grow at high altitudes. And humans have technology, manufacturing capabilities, and medical advances that could benefit Vultor communities. If someone could establish a framework for equitable exchange—”
She stopped abruptly.
Rykan had gone still by the window. Not tense, exactly, but withdrawn in a way she recognized. The same withdrawal she’d seen last night when she’d mentioned returning to Port Cantor. The same careful blankness that meant he was protecting himself from something he didn’t want to feel.
“But that’s probably not relevant to your immediate goals,” she finished, the words awkward in her mouth. “You’re looking for exiles, not business partners.”
Tessa was watching her intently, but she didn’t comment on the abrupt subject change. Instead, she glanced at Korrin, some silent communication passing between them.
“It’s nearly dark,” Korrin said, rising from the bench and looking at Rykan. “That kill you dropped—it’ll attract scavengers if you leave it much longer.”
Rykan stirred at last, turning from the window. “I can retrieve it myself.”
“Two pairs of hands work faster than one.” Korrin’s tone brooked no argument. “Besides, I’d like to see more of this territory. You’ve done well here, for a lone wolf.”
The phrase hung in the air—not quite an insult, not quite a compliment. Rykan’s eyes narrowed, but after a moment he nodded curtly.
“Fine.”
He moved towards the door, pausing beside her chair for a moment. His hand brushed her shoulder—barely a touch, there and gone—but the warmth of it lingered on her skin.
“I won’t be long.”
Then he was gone, Korrin following, and the cabin fell quiet except for the crackle of the fire and the soft breathing of the two adyani by the door.
Tessa stayed where she was, watching her with an expression that was difficult to read. Not hostile, or even particularly curious anymore. More like… recognition.
“They’ll be a while,” Tessa said. “Korrin will want to assess him. It’s what he does.”
“Assess him for what?”
“Strength. Stability. Whether he’s a threat or an asset.” Tessa smiled slightly. “Korrin pretends he’s just following Soren’s orders, but the truth is he cares. He knows what it’s like to be alone, to feel like you don’t belong anywhere. He can’t pass an exile without at least making the offer.”
She looked down at her tea, the liquid gone lukewarm in her hands. “Rykan won’t accept. He’s…” She searched for the right word. “He’s been hurt. By his pack, by someone he trusted. He doesn’t believe in belonging anymore.”
“But you’re here.”
“I’m temporary,” she said defensively, pain washing over her at the thought. “The pass will clear eventually. I have responsibilities waiting for me. A company that needs me, a situation that requires my attention.”
“And Rykan?”
Her chest tightened. “He wouldn’t be happy in the city. He belongs here, in the mountains. The freedom, the solitude—it’s what he needs. I couldn’t ask him to give that up.”
Tessa was quiet for a long moment. Then she rose, moving to sit in the chair across from her.
“Can I tell you something?” she asked softly.
She nodded.
“When I met Korrin, I was a baker and he was a bounty hunter. The bounty was on my head, and our relationship started when he kidnapped me.” Ember knew her eyes had gone wide, and Tessa laughed. “It turned out to be the best thing that ever happened, to both of us.”
Tessa reached out, putting a gentle hand over hers. “Loving a Vultor is challenging. They’re proud and stubborn and absolutely infuriating sometimes. And they have this habit of deciding they know what’s best for you without ever asking what you actually want.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“I imagine it does.” Tessa’s smile turned wry. “But here’s the thing, Ember. I could have assumed he’d never want to settle down. He could have assumed I’d never want to be with him. But if we’d walked away, chosen safety over uncertainty—that would have been the real tragedy.”
Her throat felt tight. “It’s not that simple. I have to return to Port Cantor, and Rykan wouldn’t be happy there. I wish I didn’t have to leave but I have a legacy that—”
“And have you asked Rykan if he would go with you?”
The question landed like a stone in still water, sending ripples through everything she thought she knew.
“What?”
“You said he wouldn’t be happy in the city.” Tessa’s eyes were gentle but relentless. “But have you actually asked him? Have you told him what you want and given him the choice?”
She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. Because the answer was obvious, and it wasn’t the one she wanted to give.
“No. He told me that after he left his pack he hated being around people,” she said finally. “He’s been through so much. His pack, his birthright, the female who betrayed him. He came to the mountains to heal. How could I ask him to leave all that behind for me?”
“How could you not?” Tessa squeezed her hand.
“Ember, I’ve spent less than an hour in this cabin, and even I can see how that male looks at you.
And how you look at him. When he thought you were in danger, he nearly killed Korrin—and Korrin is not an easy man to threaten.
Whatever you think Rykan wants, whatever you’ve decided he needs, I promise you it’s not as simple as solitude and freedom. ”
The fire popped and crackled, sending sparks spiraling up the chimney. Outside, the wind had picked up, rattling the shutters with irregular gusts.
“What if I ask and he says no?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “What if I offer him everything and he still chooses to stay?”
“Then at least you’ll know.” Tessa released her hand, sitting back in her chair. “And at least you’ll have given him the chance to choose for himself. Isn’t that what you would want? The freedom to make your own decisions, rather than having someone else decide what’s best for you?”
She thought about her father. About the sheltered life he’d built for her, the walls of protection that had become walls of limitation. She thought about Marina, making decisions about Ember’s future without ever asking what Ember wanted.
She thought about Rykan, standing by the window with that careful blankness in his eyes, already withdrawing because he assumed she would leave him behind.
Have you told him what you want?
The truth was, she hadn’t. She’d been so busy preparing herself for inevitable loss that she’d never stopped to question whether it actually had to be inevitable.
She’d decided that Rykan would be unhappy in Port Cantor, that he would resent her for pulling him away from his mountains, and that whatever they had couldn’t survive the pressures of her real life.
But she’d never asked. She’d never given him the choice.
Just like he’d never asked her what she wanted when he’d pulled away last night. When he’d decided that claiming her would be a mistake, that she deserved better, that he knew what was best.
We’ve both been doing the same thing, she realized. Protecting each other from decisions neither of us has the right to make alone.
“You’re right,” she said quietly. “I need to talk to him.”
“Good.” Tessa’s smile warmed. “Though maybe wait until after dinner. Difficult conversations are easier on a full stomach.”
A startled laugh escaped her throat—the first genuine laugh she’d had in days. “Is that the secret to a successful relationship with a Vultor? Strategic meal timing?”
“That and learning when to stand your ground.” Tessa’s eyes sparkled with humor. “They respect strength. Even when—especially when—that strength is being used to tell them they’re being idiots.”
The door opened, letting in a gust of cold air and the scent of blood and evergreens. Rykan ducked through first, a massive haunch over one shoulder, with Korrin following carrying the rest of the kill wrapped in a hide. Both men were speckled with snow.
“The weather is clearing,” Korrin announced, setting his burden down near the cold storage alcove. “Looks like we’re in for a warmer spell.”
She met Rykan’s eyes across the cabin. He looked uncertain, wary, like a male expecting rejection and bracing himself against the blow.
We need to talk, she thought. Really talk. About what we want, what we’re afraid of, what we’re willing to risk.
But Tessa was right. That conversation could wait for later, when they weren’t exhausted and surrounded by strangers.
For now, she rose from her chair and moved to help him with the meat, her shoulder brushing his as she reached for the cutting tools.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked quietly, and watched the surprise bloom in his eyes.
It wasn’t much. Just a small thing—a willingness to be present, to not run away from the complicated tangle of feelings between them. But it was a start.