Chapter 29
“We’re leaving.”
Rykan looked up from the security reports scattered across his desk—a desk he still found uncomfortably luxurious—to find Ember standing in the doorway.
She wore something soft and simple, a far cry from her usual elaborate gowns.
Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and there was a spark of mischief in her grey eyes that he hadn’t seen since the mountain.
“Leaving.” He set down the datapad he’d been reviewing. “The Thanor meeting isn’t until—”
“Not a meeting.” She crossed the room and plucked the datapad from his fingers before he could retrieve it. “This is a kidnapping.”
Behind her, Baylin appeared in the doorway, looking thoroughly amused. The former enforcer had settled into his role at Duvain with surprising ease, though he suspected his old friend was still restless, still searching for something he hadn’t yet found.
“She’s not joking,” Baylin said. “Shuttle’s waiting on the roof.”
His eyes narrowed. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.” Ember’s smile widened. “Don’t you trust me?”
With my life, he thought. With everything I am.
But he only growled and rose from his chair, letting her take his hand and lead him from the office.
The shuttle was small and sleek, designed for short-range transport rather than interstellar travel. Tomas was already aboard when they arrived, seated near the front with a cup of tea and a satisfied expression that suggested he knew exactly what was happening.
He settled into the seat beside Ember as the craft lifted smoothly from Duvain Tower’s private landing pad. Through the viewports, Port Cantor spread out beneath them—a maze of gleaming towers and crowded streets, of commerce and chaos and humanity pressed together in suffocating density.
He’d grown used to it. Mostly. But some part of him still flinched at the constant noise, the endless crush of bodies, the complete absence of clean air and open sky. His beast often paced restlessly, appeased only by Ember’s presence and the physical demands of his security work.
She knew. Of course she knew. She saw everything.
The shuttle banked west, leaving the city’s central district behind. The towers gave way to residential areas, then to industrial zones, and then, unexpectedly, to a vast expanse of green.
He straightened in his seat, watching as the landscape transformed below them.
Rolling hills emerged from the urban sprawl, covered in vegetation so dense and wild that it seemed almost impossible this close to Port Cantor.
Trees stretched towards the sky—real trees, not the engineered specimens that decorated the city’s parks—and between them, he caught glimpses of running water and open meadows.
“What is this place?”
“The Duvain Estate,” she said softly, her voice hesitant. “My father built it decades ago. For my mother. He said every person needed somewhere to breathe.”
The shuttle began its descent towards a sprawling mansion that sat at the center of the grounds like a jewel in a verdant crown.
The building was old-fashioned by Port Cantor standards—stone and wood and wide windows that opened onto wraparound terraces.
Carefully cultivated gardens surrounded it, gradually transforming into wilderness.
His breath caught as the full scope of the property revealed itself.
The manicured grounds gave way to forest—dense, ancient forest, stretching towards distant hills that were barely visible on the horizon.
Open meadows broke up the tree line, and a river wound through the landscape like a silver ribbon.
Room to run. Room to breathe. Room for his beast to stretch and hunt and simply be.
He turned to look at Ember, something fierce and tender expanding in his chest. She was watching him, her grey eyes luminous with hope and uncertainty and love.
“You came here for me.”
It wasn’t a question.
“I came here for us.” Her hand found his. “The city is necessary. The work is important. But I don’t want you to forget…” She hesitated, searching for words. “I don’t want you to lose the part of yourself that found me in the snow. The part that runs and hunts and lives in the wild places.”
The shuttle touched down on a broad landing pad near the mansion’s rear entrance. Through the viewports, he could see a path leading from the gardens into the forest beyond—a path that called to something deep and primal in his blood.
“You want to remind me of the mountains.”
“Yes.” Her smile returned, edged with something playful. “Is it working?”
He leaned close, letting his breath warm her ear. “Ask me again in an hour.”
The mansion’s interior felt warm and welcoming rather than the elaborate grandeur of Duvain Tower.
The furniture was comfortable rather than impressive, the artwork personal rather than valuable.
Photographs lined the walls—a younger Ember with an elderly man whose kind eyes matched hers, landscapes from a dozen different worlds, moments captured and preserved like pressed flowers.
Tomas issued quiet instructions about meals and arrangements to the small group of staff. Baylin prowled the perimeter, assessing sight lines and entry points with professional attention, though Rykan caught him glancing towards the forest with the same hungry longing that burned in his own chest.
“Go,” he told him. “Secure the tree line. Take your time.”
Baylin’s grin was sharp and grateful. “You’re sure?”
“I’ll manage the indoor security.” He jerked his chin towards the windows. “Go run.”
His friend didn’t need to be told twice. Within moments, Baylin had disappeared into the gardens, his form already beginning to shift as he crossed into the trees.
“That was kind.” Ember appeared at his elbow, following him out on the terrace as Baylin vanished into the green shadows. “He’s been restless.”
“He’s been caged.” He turned to face her. “We all have.”
“I know.” Her hand came up to rest against his chest, palm flat over his heart. “That’s why I brought you here.”
She was so close. Close enough that he could smell the sweet floral scent of her skin and feel the warmth radiating from her body. His beast stirred, stretching lazily, suddenly very interested in where this conversation might lead.
Her finger traced a line down his sternum, following the ridge of muscle beneath his shirt.
“Tell me, Rykan.” Her voice dropped to something low and teasing. “Have you missed the hunt?”
His hand closed around her wrist, stilling the wandering finger before it could travel lower. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”
Her eyes met his, bright with challenge. “Who says I can’t finish it?”
She pulled free of his grip with a twist he’d taught her himself—one of many skills she’d developed since the mountain—and before he could react, she was moving. Running. Laughing as she darted down the terrace and into the gardens beyond.
He stood frozen for half a heartbeat, watching her go. Her pale hair streamed behind her like a banner, her body moving with a grace and speed that would have been impossible three months ago. She’d grown strong in their time together. Strong and fast and utterly magnificent.
Five seconds, he decided. I’ll give her five seconds.
He counted them slowly, savoring the anticipation building in his blood. Then he gave chase.
The shift came easily, flowing through him like water finding its natural course.
His bones reshaped themselves into something larger and more powerful.
Muscles rippled beneath skin that thickened and darkened with emerging fur.
His senses sharpened until every scent and sound in the forest blazed with crystalline clarity.
He didn’t complete the transformation. The full beast form was too large for the pursuit he had in mind—too powerful, too likely to end the chase before it properly began.
Instead, he held himself in the space between, elongated claws digging into the earth, fangs extending past his lips, golden eyes blazing with predatory light.
Her trail was easy to find. Crushed grass and displaced leaves marked her passage through the garden, and beneath them, the intoxicating sweetness of her scent. He followed it past flowering hedges and ornamental trees, through a gate left deliberately ajar, into the wild forest beyond.
Clever female, he thought with fierce approval.
She hadn’t run in a straight line. The trail twisted and doubled back, using the terrain to her advantage.
She’d remembered his lessons about evading pursuit, about using water to mask her scent and choosing paths that made speed impossible for larger predators.
She made it harder than he expected.
But not hard enough.
He found where she’d crossed the stream, the water still disturbed by her passing. He found where she’d climbed a rocky outcropping, her handprints visible in the moss. He tracked her through a dense thicket, ducking under branches that still swayed from her passage.
And then he heard her—the rapid beat of her heart, the quick rhythm of her breath, the soft sound of her footsteps on fallen leaves.
She was close.
He moved faster, silent despite his size, closing the distance between them with predatory intent. Through the trees, he caught a flash of pale hair, a glimpse of her lithe form weaving between the trunks.
She glanced back. Their eyes met.
And she smiled.
Something snapped in his control. He lunged.
She tried to dodge—a quick spin that would have evaded a human pursuer—but he was faster.
His arms closed around her, momentum carrying them forward until her back met the solid trunk of an ancient tree.
He pinned her there with his body, claws digging into bark on either side of her head, breathing hard, eyes blazing with golden fire.
“Caught you.”
The words came out rough, barely human, shaped by a mouth that was no longer entirely his own.