Chapter 25
Firelight painted dancing shadows across the stone walls of Tarek’s den, and the space that had once felt so empty now seemed almost too small to contain everyone gathered within it.
He leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen alcove, watching the scene in front of him with a warmth in his chest that he still wasn’t entirely sure how to process.
Seren occupied the large chair by the hearth while Korrin sprawled across several cushions on the floor, his human mate Tessa tucked against his side with the easy comfort of long familiarity.
Jessa was perched on the kitchen table next to him, close enough that he could have reached out and touched her if he’d wanted to.
Which he did. Constantly. Even now, his beast purred with satisfaction at her nearness, at the way her scent had woven itself so thoroughly into the fabric of his home that he couldn’t imagine the den without it.
Dani had fallen asleep a short while ago, worn out by the excitement of the day and the novelty of so many guests.
Seren’s mate Elli—a gentle human woman with kind eyes and a quick laugh—had volunteered to sit with her, and he had been surprised to find that he trusted her immediately.
Pack instinct, perhaps. Or maybe just recognition of a kindred spirit.
“The council was… receptive,” Seren was saying, his deep voice carrying easily through the room. “More than I’d expected, truth be told. Your uncle’s grip on them was weaker than he believed.”
“Fear has a way of looking like loyalty,” Jessa said quietly. “Until something stronger comes along.”
Korrin snorted. “The fear’s still there. I could smell it on half of them. But they’re more afraid of missing out on profits than they are of us now.” His amber eyes gleamed with dark amusement. “Humans. Always so predictable.”
“Korrin.” Tessa elbowed him in the ribs, her tone fond but exasperated. “Not all of us are motivated purely by profit.”
“No?” He caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles with exaggerated gallantry. “Then why did you agree to come back to the pack with me? My charming personality?”
“Your modesty, clearly.”
He felt his mouth quirk despite himself.
He’d been wary of Korrin at first—the male’s cocky arrogance had grated against his solitary nature—but watching him with Tessa had softened that wariness into something closer to respect.
Beneath the swagger and the sharp tongue, Korrin was fiercely devoted to his mate.
He understood that devotion now in a way he never could have before.
“This is a beginning,” Seren said, drawing the conversation back to more serious matters. “Nothing more. Trust will need to be earned on both sides. But the foundation has been laid.”
He pushed away from the doorframe, moving to stand behind Jessa. His hand found her shoulder almost without conscious thought, his thumb tracing slow circles against the curve of her neck.
“We’ve been discussing our own plans,” he said. “Jessa and I.”
Seren focused on him, his gaze carrying the weight of his alpha power. “Oh?”
“We want to spend time in the village as well as here.” The decision had come easier than he’d expected.
He’d spent so long avoiding any connections.
But that was before. Before Jessa. Before Dani.
“Jessa needs access to her loom, and there are things I can offer the village. If they are willing to accept them.”
“His healing skills,” she added, tilting her head back to look up at him. Pride shone in her eyes, warm and bright. “He was a healer before. A brilliant one.”
“I was many things before.” His voice roughened despite his best efforts. “Not all of them good.”
“The past is the past,” Seren said calmly. “What matters is what you choose to do now. If you wish to heal again, it is a gift worth sharing.”
He inclined his head, accepting the words even as they settled uncomfortably in his chest. He wasn’t sure he deserved to call his abilities a gift—not after the ways they’d been twisted and misused. But Jessa believed in him, and perhaps, in time, he could learn to believe in himself again.
“There’s also Dani to consider,” Jessa added. “She’s been isolated for so long, first because of her illness and then because of…” She trailed off, but they all knew that she meant their flight into Vultor territory. “She needs to be around other children. Other humans.”
“Agreed.” Seren nodded slowly. “Balance is important, especially for the young. She should know both worlds—the human and the Vultor.” A hint of warmth softened his stern features.
“You’re welcome to visit the pack as well, when you’re ready.
In fact…” He paused, something flickering in his amber gaze.
“One of my males has recently taken a human mate. A weaver, like yourself. I think you would find much in common.”
Jessa’s eyes were bright with excitement. “Another weaver?”
“Her name is Scarlett. She’s been experimenting with blending human and Vultor textile techniques.” Seren’s mouth curved in what might have been a smile. “I’m told the results are quite impressive.”
“I’d like that,” Jessa said happily. “I’d like that very much.”
The fire crackled and popped, filling the comfortable silence that followed. He found his gaze drifting back to Korrin, who had gone quiet—unusual for him—with a thoughtful furrow between his brows.
“You mentioned something when we first met,” he said. “About seeking out other exiles.”
Korrin’s eyes sharpened. “I did.”
“There was another male.” The words came slowly, dragged up from memories Tarek had tried to bury. “When I first arrived on Cresca, five years ago. I caught his scent in the northern mountains, maybe a day’s journey from here. I never approached him, but I knew he was there.”
Seren gave him a thoughtful look. “Do you know his name? His circumstances?”
“No. Only that he was Vultor, and that he was alone.” Tarek shook his head.
“From what I understand he went north, but I don’t know if he simply moved on or…
” He didn’t finish the thought. They all knew the alternatives.
Death. Or worse—the slow slide into feral madness that claimed Vultor who spent too long without pack, without connection.
“How far north?” Korrin asked.
“A week’s travel, perhaps. Through the high passes.” He met the younger male’s gaze. “The terrain is treacherous. I wouldn’t recommend going alone.”
Korrin groaned, dropping his head back against the cushions with theatrical despair.
“Of course it’s a week’s travel. Of course it’s treacherous terrain.
” He slanted a look at Tessa, who was watching him with barely concealed amusement.
“Why is it never ‘just over that hill’ or ‘a pleasant afternoon’s stroll’? ”
“Because you’d get bored,” Tessa said sweetly. “And a bored Korrin is a dangerous Korrin.”
“I’m dangerous all the time.”
“You’re a menace. There’s a difference.”
Seren’s rumbling laugh cut through their teasing. “If anyone can track this exile, it’s you, Korrin. But Tarek is right—the high passes are no place for a solo journey.”
“I know, I know.” Korrin waved a dismissive hand. “Take backup. Don’t die. Standard procedure.” But his expression had sobered, the playfulness fading into something more serious. “If there’s a male out there, especially another one who’s been alone for five years…”
“He needs to be found,” Seren finished. “Before it’s too late.”
Tessa shifted, turning to face her mate with an expression Tarek couldn’t quite read. “How long would you be gone?”
“A week there, a week back. Maybe longer, depending on what I find.” Korrin’s jaw tightened. “Too long.”
“Then I’ll come with you.”
The words hung in the air, simple and certain. Korrin’s head snapped towards her, his eyes narrowing.
“Like hell you will. The high passes with winter coming? With feral Vultor potentially lurking about? Absolutely not.”
“Do you want to be parted for that long?
“Of course not, but—” He cut himself off, visibly struggling.
Tessa reached up, cupping his jaw with a tenderness that made Tarek look away, feeling like an intruder in a private moment.
“We’re partners, Korrin. And that means you don’t get to wrap me in wool and keep me safe on a shelf.”
Korrin’s throat worked. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, with a sigh that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest: “Fine. But if we encounter anything more dangerous than a bad-tempered goat, you stay behind me.”
“I’ll consider it.”
“Tessa—”
“I said I’ll consider it.” She kissed him, quick and fierce, effectively ending the argument.
Jessa’s soft laugh drew his attention back to her. She was watching the exchange with a smile on her face, and he realized with a start that she was seeing echoes of their own relationship—the push and pull of two strong wills learning to bend without breaking.
He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. “Something amuses you?”
“I was just thinking.” She tilted her head to meet his gaze. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Having people who argue with you because they care, not because they want to control you.”
The observation hit closer to home than she probably intended. He thought of his former life—the prince he’d served, the orders he’d followed without question, the way obedience had slowly twisted into complicity until he couldn’t tell the difference anymore.
“Yes,” he said softly. “It is.”
The conversation drifted after that, flowing into easier waters.
Seren spoke of pack matters—a hunting territory dispute, a pregnant female who was due any day, the ongoing negotiations with human settlements to the south.
Korrin complained loudly about his last supply run while Tessa interjected with increasingly outrageous embellishments that had everyone laughing.
Elli emerged from Dani’s room at some point, reporting that the girl was sleeping peacefully, and quietly accepted a cup of tea.
She was smaller than Seren by more than a foot, small and soft-spoken, but Tarek noticed the way Seren’s stern features gentled whenever she spoke.
Another mated pair, another bond that defied the barriers between their species.
This is what pack looks like, he realized.
Not just blood and territory, but chosen family.
Bonds forged through trust and tested through hardship.
He’d thought he understood pack once, back on the home world, but he’d been wrong.
What he’d known then was hierarchy and obligation.
This warmth, this easy affection and sense of belonging, was something else entirely.
Jessa must have felt the shift in his mood, because she reached back and found his hand, lacing her fingers through his without breaking from the conversation she was having with Elli about the best plants to use for dye.
The simple gesture grounded him, pulled him back from the edge of too-deep thoughts.
You’re not alone anymore, her touch seemed to say. You don’t have to carry it all yourself.
The fire had burned low by the time the others began making noises about leaving. They had made camp a short distance away with the other warriors who had accompanied them. Seren rose first, his massive frame unfolding from the chair with casual grace.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” he said formally “You’ve built something good here, Tarek. Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t. And thank you. For…” He paused, unsure how to articulate everything he wanted to say. For offering him a place when he’d convinced himself he didn’t deserve one. For showing him that exile didn’t have to be a death sentence.
Seren seemed to understand anyway. He clasped Tarek’s forearm in the traditional Vultor salute, his grip firm and warm.
“Welcome to the pack,” he said simply. “Brother.”
The word stole his breath. Brother. Not outcast. Not exile. Brother.
He couldn’t speak, could barely nod.
Jessa’s hand found his again as the others filed out, her touch a lifeline in the sudden surge of emotion. She didn’t say anything, just held on.
Korrin paused at the entrance, Tessa already outside.
“We’ll head north in a few days,” he said, his usual arrogance softened into something almost gentle.
“Once I’ve had time to plan the route. If you think of anything else about this exile—where he might have gone, what he was running from—send word. ”
“I will.”
A flash of sharp teeth. “Try not to miss me too much while I’m gone.”
“I’ll manage somehow.”
Korrin’s laugh echoed off the stone walls as he ducked outside, leaving Tarek and Jessa alone in the suddenly quiet den. But the silence wasn’t empty. It was full of warmth and possibility.
Jessa turned to face him, her eyes bright in the dying firelight. “That was…”
“A lot,” he finished.
“Good, though.” She stepped closer, her hands coming up to rest against his chest. His heartbeat accelerated beneath her palms, her smile widening as she noticed it too. “Very good.”
“Yes.” He covered her hands with his own, holding them against him. “It was.”
They stood like that for a long moment, neither moving, neither speaking. Outside, the night was dark and cold, but here in their home there was only warmth.
His days as an exile were truly over. For five years, he had defined himself by what he’d lost. He’d worn his isolation like armor, convinced that he deserved nothing more, that his solitude was both his punishment and his protection.
But armor could become a prison if you let it.
Jessa and Dani had shown him that. Jessa, with her fierce determination and her gentle heart, and Dani, with her bright curiosity and her quiet courage. And now Seren and Korrin and the others had offered him pack.
He wasn’t alone anymore.
He would never be alone again.
“Come to bed,” she murmured, rising on her toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It’s been a long day.”
He let her lead him towards their bedroom, her hand warm in his.
Behind them, the fire crackled and settled, casting soft shadows across the den that had once been a place of solitary exile and had become a home.