Chapter 10
STELLAN
War is coming. I have fought wars before and I know the price in blood and grief. But this war is different. Korren has made her his excuse, twisted my claim on her into justification for his ambition. He would have come for my territory regardless. She simply gave him a story to tell his wolves.
The war council gathers in the great hall as the sun sets behind the mountains.
Torben stands at my right hand, his expression grim.
Around the table are my most trusted wolves: Sven, who has led our eastern patrols for a decade.
Gunnar, whose knowledge of the mountain passes is unmatched.
Erik, whose scouts brought us the intelligence about Korren's movements.
Representatives from our allied packs have answered the call as well—Holger from Ashwood, a grizzled veteran with more battle scars than teeth, and Vidar from Greymoor, whose cold eyes miss nothing and whose wolves are legendary for their discipline.
And Iris, standing at the edge of the group with her arms crossed, watching everything with those sharp eyes that miss nothing.
The wolves do not know what to make of her presence. I can smell their uncertainty, their skepticism. A human omega at a war council is unprecedented. Some of them still think of her as nothing more than a distraction, an obsession that has weakened their alpha.
They are about to learn otherwise.
"Korren's forces are gathering here." I tap the map spread across the table, indicating the valley that marks our northern border.
"He has amassed enough wolves to pose a serious threat, and if the Northern Pack falls, the balance of power alters across every territory.
Ashwood and Greymoor would be next. His supply lines are stretched thin, which means he's counting on a quick victory. "
"Then we don't give him one," Torben says. "We fortify the keep and wait him out. Let winter do our work for us."
"That plays into his hands." The voice is Iris's, quiet but clear.
Every head turns toward her. "A siege is exactly what he wants.
He doesn't need to breach your walls. He just needs to keep you pinned here while he takes the outlying territories.
By spring, he'll control the mountain passes, the hunting grounds, and the trade routes. The keep will be worthless."
Sven's lip curls. "And what would a human know about wolf warfare?"
"I know that warfare is warfare, regardless of species.
" Iris steps forward, her chin lifted, refusing to be intimidated.
"I also know that Korren chose this timing deliberately.
Winter means your pack can't scatter into the wilderness.
You're concentrated, vulnerable. He's not attacking the keep because it's strong. He's attacking because it's a trap."
The silence that follows is heavy with reassessment. I watch my wolves recalculate their assumptions about the omega in their midst.
"She's right." Gunnar's voice is grudging but honest. "Korren isn't stupid. He wouldn't mass his forces for a siege he can't win. He has another angle."
"So we don't let him set the terms." Iris moves to the table and studies the map, her finger tracing the terrain.
"Here. This canyon narrows to a chokepoint before it opens into your territory.
If Korren's forces have to pass through single-file, their numbers mean nothing.
You could hold them there with a fraction of your pack while the rest flanks from the high ground. "
Erik leans in, frowning. "That's a day's march from the keep. We'd be leaving our home undefended."
"Your home is already undefended if you let Korren dictate the battlefield.
" Iris looks up at me, and I see the woman Helena trained, the warrior she never got to become.
"You can't win a defensive war against a larger force.
You have to take the fight to him. Make him react to you instead of the other way around. "
"And if it's a trap?" Sven demands. "If Korren expects exactly this and has wolves waiting in the canyon?"
"Then you spring the trap on purpose and turn it back on him." Iris's voice is steady. "Send scouts ahead. Know the ground before you commit. But sitting here waiting to be surrounded is not strategy. It's surrender with extra steps."
I let the debate continue for another hour, watching Iris hold her own against wolves twice her age and three times her experience.
She does not back down. She does not defer.
She argues her points with the cold logic of someone who has studied war as an academic exercise and the passion of someone who has something personal at stake.
By the time the council adjourns, the plan is set.
We march at dawn to meet Korren's forces at the canyon.
I will lead the assault personally while Torben holds the high ground with our archers.
It is a risk, putting myself at the front of the battle, but my wolves need to see their alpha fighting beside them.
Anything less would confirm Korren's propaganda about my weakness.
The wolves file out, but I catch Torben's arm before he can leave.
"If I fall tomorrow, the pack is yours."
Torben's jaw tightens. "You won't fall."
"If I do. Protect her. Whatever it takes. Whatever it costs."
He meets my eyes, and I see the understanding there. He knows what she means to me. He knows what losing her would do to whatever remains of the pack.
"I will," he says. "But you're not going to fall. You have too much to live for now."
He leaves, and I am alone with the maps and the firelight and the weight of what tomorrow will bring.
Iris comes to my chambers after midnight.
I hear her footsteps in the corridor, hear the hesitation before she knocks. I open the door before her hand connects with the wood, just as I did the last time she came to me. She stands in the dim light wearing nothing but a thin robe, her hair loose around her shoulders, her eyes dark with need.
"If you die tomorrow—" She stops, swallows. "I need—"
"What do you need?"
She steps past me into the room, and I close the door behind her. The fire has burned low, casting long shadows across the stone walls. She turns to face me, and I see the conflict in her face. Fear and want and fierce determination underneath.
"You," she says. "Tonight. All of you."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I cross the distance between us in two strides and take her face in my hands, tilting it up so she has to meet my eyes.
"You understand what you're asking."
"I understand that you might not come back. I understand that I might spend the rest of my life wondering what it would have been like." Her hands come up to grip my wrists, not pulling away, just holding on. "I don't want to wonder, Stellan. I want to know."
I kiss her. Not gently. There is nothing gentle left in me tonight, not with war on the horizon and her body pressed against mine and the desperate need to claim what is mine before the world tries to take it away.
She opens for me immediately, her tongue meeting mine, her fingers clawing at my shirt.
I strip her with sure hands, pulling the robe from her shoulders and letting it pool at her feet.
She is naked underneath, her skin pale gold in the firelight, her nipples already hard, her breath coming fast and shallow.
I run my hands down her sides, over the curve of her hips, between her thighs where she is already wet for me.
"You've been thinking about this," I murmur against her mouth. "Lying in your bed, imagining what it would feel like to have me inside you."
"Yes." The admission comes out broken, shameless. "Since you put your mouth on me. I can't stop thinking about it."
I lift her and carry her to the bed, laying her down on the furs and covering her body with mine. She arches up against me, seeking friction, seeking relief, but I pin her hips to the mattress with one hand.
"Not yet. I've waited too long for this to rush."
I take my time with her. I learn the taste of her throat, the way her pulse jumps beneath my tongue when I drag my teeth across the tender skin.
The hollow behind her ear draws a shiver from her when I breathe against it, and I file that knowledge away for later use.
The sensitive spot at the base of her spine makes her arch into me, a low moan spilling from her lips before she can catch it.
I drag my mouth down her body, tracing the valley between her breasts with my tongue before turning my attention to each one in turn.
I take her nipple into my mouth and suck until she gasps, then scrape my teeth across the hardened peak just to feel her jolt beneath me.
Her fingers twist in my hair, pulling me closer, and I give her other breast the same treatment until she is writhing and cursing, her hips rolling against nothing, desperate for friction I refuse to give.
Lower still. I press open-mouthed kisses down her stomach, feeling her muscles clench and flutter beneath my lips.
When I reach the juncture of her thighs, I spread them wider with my palms and settle between them, breathing in the rich scent of her arousal.
She is glistening, swollen, her body weeping for me.
I let my breath ghost across her heated flesh, watching her hips lift in silent plea, letting her feel how close I am to where she needs me most.
"Please." The word is torn from her. "Stellan, please."
"Please what?"
"Please fuck me. I need you inside me. I can't—I can't wait anymore."
I rise over her and position myself at her entrance.
She is slick and swollen and desperate, her hips lifting to meet me before I have even begun to push inside.
I hold her gaze as I press forward, forcing myself to suppress the knot already threatening to swell at my base.
Not yet. Not tonight. I watch her face as she takes the first inch of me.
Her eyes go wide. Her breath catches.