Chapter 10
Dane
Three hours since I left Nova in the woods. Three hours of cold showers, patrol routes, and trying to scrub her taste from my memory.
Didn’t work. I can still feel her mouth on mine, still smell her on my skin. I jerked off twice and it only made it worse.
Then there was the intruder we tracked. The one who vanished before we could corner him. Real or imagined, he’s another problem I can’t solve.
Needless to say, I haven’t slept.
Now, I force myself to straighten, scanning the treeline—acting like I’m checking for threats when I’m really looking for a glimpse of Nova. To see if what happened last night affected her as much as it did me.
Gravel crunches at the outer gate. A vehicle approaching, not pack—the rumble of a four-wheel-drive motor. The scent of aftershave and gun oil hits me before the cruiser comes into view.
Grant Callahan. Brother to Liam, Shadow Peak’s Beta.
I haven’t seen the Silverwood deputy in months. Not since we chose Ash Hollow for our pack.
Grant rolls to a stop, cuts the engine. The silence hangs heavy for three beats before his door creaks open. He steps out slow, deliberate. Liam’s brother looks tired, with dark circles under eyes that scan the compound with practiced precision.
“Vaughn.” He nods, adjusting his hat. The last name lands with deliberate distance—not hostile, but not friendly either. “Been a while.”
“Sheriff.” I keep my stance relaxed, hands loose at my sides. “What brings you out here?”
“Deputy, technically.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Jake Nelson’s still got the badge.” He still doesn’t trust me. That’s fine. I wouldn’t trust me, either.
I don’t smile back. Grant knows why I’m here, why I left Shadow Peak. Knows what it cost me to build something separate, something mine.
“Two hikers went missing three days ago—Jessica Chen and her boyfriend, Mark Sullivan.” He cuts to it, efficient.
“Trail’s cold in town, but their last ping puts them near your eastern border.
Both experienced climbers. Jessica’s a grad student at UC Boulder studying wildlife biology.
Mark teaches high school science. They know these mountains, apparently been here several times. ”
I feel Ben before I see him, a shift in the air as he materializes at my nine o’clock. Silent, watchful. His focus locks on Grant, muscles tensed like he’s ready to bolt.
Grant gives him a nod. Cautious. There’s history there—before Ben was taken, before everything went sideways.
“Ben.” Grant’s voice softens a fraction.
Ben just nods back, saying nothing. Waiting for my lead.
“Anything unusual about these hikers?” I ask because Grant isn’t here about missing tourists. Not really.
He pulls out a battered tablet, thumbs through to something. “Trail cams shorted out. All of them, in sequence, following the path those hikers took.” He holds up the screen. Black, with a white-hot flare in the center. “This one fried Lopez’s laptop when he tried to recover the data.”
The coffee in my hand has gone cold. I don’t remember picking up the mug. Don’t remember bringing it outside.
“You think it’s our problem?” I keep my tone neutral.
Grant sighs, pushing his hat back. “I think it’s not normal. And abnormal tends to be your jurisdiction these days.”
There’s no accusation in his voice. Just resignation. We’ve done this dance before, back when I ran security for Caleb. Back before I decided I couldn’t serve another Alpha, even one I respected.
“I’ll look into it.” I hand the mug to Ben, a silent signal. He takes it without question, disappears to alert the others.
“Appreciate it.” Grant doesn’t move to leave. “Heard you’ve had some trouble out here too.”
My jaw tightens. News travels fast in small pockets of the supernatural world. “Nothing we can’t handle.”
“Sure.” He studies me too long. “Just thought you should know—Lachlan’s been asking questions.”
That gets my attention. “About what?”
“Energy spikes. Portal fluctuations.” He shrugs. “Whatever you called them before.”
Before. When I was still part of Shadow Peak’s defense network. When my job was clear-cut: patrol, defend, report back.
Now I’ve got wolves looking to me for every answer. For safety I promised but can’t guarantee. For leadership I never wanted.
And I’ve got Nova—her taste still on my tongue and her scent embedded in my clothes. A distraction I can’t afford and can’t seem to shake.
“Tell Lachlan I’ll call.” The words scrape out of my throat.
Grant nods, eyes flickering to something behind me. Back to my face. Reading more than I want him to see.
“Take care, Vaughn.” He turns back to his truck, pauses with his hand on the door. “Whatever’s coming—you don’t have to face it alone.”
I clench my jaw, grinding down on words I won’t say. Grant’s offer hangs heavy between us—Shadow Peak’s reach extending like a hand I don’t want to take.
“I’ll handle it,” I say instead.
Grant reaches back into his SUV and pulls out a data stick. “Backup of the footage. In case your people can pull something we couldn’t.” He holds it out.
I take it. No games, no posturing. Just two men who’ve seen enough weird shit to know when cooperation matters more than pride.
The stick’s weight is nothing, but what it represents digs into my palm as I scan the compound.
Grant gives me a long look before climbing back into his SUV. The engine starts with a low rumble that fades as he pulls away, dust kicking up behind his tires.
Ben has vanished, probably alerting the others. Marcus stands by the east fence, watching. Judging.
My feet move before my brain decides, carrying me across the yard toward the outbuilding where Nova’s been working. Not sleeping—I’ve heard her moving at all hours, the soft tap of computer keys, the scratch of charcoal on paper.
Not that I know what she’s doing at all hours of the night. Not like I find excuses to patrol past the shack at all hours. Like a damn lovesick puppy. Fuck!
I convince myself she should check the data stick for strategic reasons. That she’s the expert on magical distortions. That I need her skills, not her proximity.
The lie tastes bitter.
I knock twice, sharp raps against the metal door. No answer. I push it open anyway.
Nova sits cross-legged on the floor, wearing—Jesus—short shorts; short enough that they ride up her smooth inner thighs to—Christ, Dane!
Stop it! But then I see her tank top hanging low as she leans over to grab a paper.
She’s not wearing a bra, and her breasts tremble as she reaches for it.
When she pulls back, I see her hard nipples pushing against the fabric confining them.
I want to free them, to find out what they taste like.
The morning light streaming through the window catches details I’ve avoided noticing until now. Her skin has that fae luminescence, pale but somehow lit from within, making her look otherworldly even in mundane morning light.
When she finally looks up from her laptop, her eyes stop my breath. Deep violet with gold flecks that seem to move on their own, like stars shifting in a night sky.
Those eyes narrow as they catch me staring, and I see the faint glow that edges them when her magic stirs.
Forcing myself to breathe and willing my cock into submission, I focus on what she’s doing instead.
She’s surrounded by paper covered in symbols I don’t recognize. Her hair falls across her face as she bends over a battered laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard.
“Ever heard of waiting?” She doesn’t look up.
“No.” I step inside and close the door. The space shrinks immediately—twelve by fifteen at most, filled with her scent, her presence. The bruise on her lip is darker today, purple-black evidence of last night’s fight. My fight.
I pull out the data stick, tossing it onto the papers beside her. “Trail cam footage. Two hikers went missing three days ago.”
Now she looks up. Her eyes narrow, taking in my stance, my expression. Whatever she sees makes her straighten, unfold her legs in one fluid motion.
“Grant Callahan dropped this off?”
“You know him?”
“I know of him.” She takes the data stick, turns it over in her hands. “County Sheriff’s deputy. Wolf family. His brother’s Beta of your old pack.”
I don’t ask how she knows. Don’t want to think about what else she might know about me, about Shadow Peak. About Lachlan, the handsome Fae prince.
“The footage is corrupted,” I say. “Something fried the deputy’s laptop when they tried to recover it.”
Nova’s eyes flash to mine. “Same signature that’s been triggering the boundary wards?”
I don’t answer. Don’t need to.
She pulls a small copper disc from her pocket—etched with symbols I don’t recognize—and sets it between the data stick and her laptop. “Grounding charm. Should absorb any residual energy before it hits my equipment.”
She connects the stick, fingers dancing across the trackpad. The copper disc glows faintly, then dims. Safe. The air hums with electronics and tension as she pulls up the footage.
“Here,” she murmurs, more to herself than me. “Three days ago, 2:17 AM.”
The screen shows a dark forest. Nothing moves except shadows cast by wind-stirred branches. Then a flicker—static that crawls across the image like insects.
“Wait.” Nova rewinds, slows the playback. She stands up, holding the laptop so I can see what she sees. “There.”
I step closer, peering over her shoulder.
Her scent hits me—pine and flowers, making my wolf strain toward her.
I lock him down, focus on the screen, trying not to focus on looking down her shirt, which is hard not to do at this angle.
Does she know what she’s doing to me? Is my presence affecting her as well?
The distortion starts at the center. Not random. A pattern, rippling outward like a stone dropped in water. The light flares white-hot for a fraction of a second.
Nova freezes the frame, zooms in on that moment before the corruption. Her finger brushes the screen, tracing the pattern.