17. Chapter 17
Nadia noticed the shift three days after Rhys’s first attempt at transformation.
She’d been in the main lodge kitchen that morning. Holding the end of a long string of dried peppers. Maren stood on a chair, winding them onto a hook between the rafters.
The beams overhead were already three-quarters lined. Red strings braided into the old hooks. Pale grey-green bundles of sage tied in pairs. The whole room smelled like winter spice baked into the wood.
Maren hadn’t said anything about why she was doing it. Or who had taught her. Or whether anyone had asked her to. She’d pulled the chair under the rafters at first light, climbed up, and started.
Elena hadn’t commented either. Just put a fresh pot of coffee at Maren’s elbow and gone back to her stove.
Jace came through the swing door from the dining hall a few minutes later. Coffee mug in his hand, looking for the pot.
He stopped in the kitchen doorway when he saw what was happening above the rafters.
His face did something Nadia didn’t have a name for. Brief. A whole expression that came and went in less than a second.
He walked to the counter. Refilled his mug. Crossed back to the chair Maren was standing on.
Set his free hand on the small of her back to steady her without being asked. Then he tipped his head back and looked up at the rafters.
He looked at them a long second. Long enough that Nadia knew he was reading every red string and every pale grey-green bundle and the hooks behind them.
Then he looked at his wife.
Maren glanced down at him. She tipped her face.
He kissed her quick, the way a man kisses his wife he’s kissed ten thousand times when she’s doing a thing she doesn’t need help with. He held it for a heartbeat longer than the ten-thousandth would have asked for.
On his way out he detoured by the counter and palmed a cookie off the cooling rack Elena had set there before sunrise.
He went back through the swing door with his coffee.
Maren went back to the peppers.
The whole thing took maybe twenty seconds.
Nadia stood there holding her end of the string, breathing harder than the work warranted.
Her wolf hadn’t growled. Hadn’t gone teeth-bared at the male crossing the female’s space. She had watched.
Something in the way they’d moved around each other. Quiet certainty. Lived-in. The opposite of the teeth-bared thing rising in her every time another wolf looked at her.
This is what mated looks like a long way down the road, Nadia thought.
Not ownership. Not snarls over a water barrel. This.
Henry, a young warrior with easy smiles and respectful distance, came in through the swing door a minute after Jace and asked if she needed anything carried to her cabin. Simple offer. Polite tone. The kind of casual assistance pack members extended to each other constantly.
Mine. The thought came with teeth behind it.
Nadia had frozen. The string of peppers half-wound around her hands, her grip tight enough to crush dried husks. Henry had backed away, slow and careful, confusion flickering across his face. Then he’d mumbled an excuse and retreated.
Now, standing in the training yard watching Rhys work through tactical scenarios with Declan, Nadia felt that same possessive heat coiling low inside her. Two unmated wolves stood near the fence, their conversation casual but their attention drifting toward her repeatedly.
They weren’t threatening. Weren’t even particularly interested beyond the natural awareness wolves maintained around unmated pack members. But she tracked their every glance with bristling intensity.
“You’re growling.” Sage’s voice came from beside her, amused rather than concerned. “Quietly, but definitely growling.”
Nadia’s jaw snapped shut. She hadn’t even realized the sound was escaping. “I’m not, ”
“You are.” Sage leaned against the fence post, her hands loose and relaxed. “And those two idiots by the water barrel are about three seconds from figuring out why.”
Heat flooded Nadia’s face. She forced her shoulders to relax, her breathing to even out. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Sage’s tone was matter-of-fact. “Your wolf’s settling deeper. Happens with recognized mates once they stop fighting it.”
Across the yard, Rhys moved through a defensive sequence despite his injured leg.
His movements were controlled, economical, the kind of precise efficiency that came from years of training.
Nadia’s wolf rumbled with satisfaction watching him.
The silence from Thornwood’s border worried him deeper than activity would have.
“I’ve never been possessive before.” The admission came out quiet. “Never wanted to claim anyone or anything. Ownership meant pain in my old pack.”
“This isn’t ownership.” Sage softened. “It’s recognition. Your wolf knows its mate, and it’s not interested in sharing attention.”
One of the unmated wolves laughed at something his companion said, the sound carrying across the yard. Nadia’s hands clenched against the fence rail hard enough that wood creaked.
“Want to talk about it?” Sage shifted her weight, casual but attentive. “Or would you rather keep pretending you’re not two seconds from challenging wolves who haven’t actually done anything wrong?”
Nadia exhaled slowly. “How do you handle it? The possessiveness?”
“I don’t.” Sage’s smile was sharp. “Declan’s mine. Anyone who doesn’t understand that learns quickly.” Her expression softened slightly. “I trust him in a way that took years of choosing, and my wolf doesn’t panic when she watches him cross a room.”
“I’m terrified of wanting anything.” The confession escaped before Nadia could stop it. “Wanting meant suffering. Meant having things taken away.”
“So you’re scared your wolf is claiming Rhys openly because that makes him a target?” Sage’s voice held understanding rather than judgment. “Or because it means admitting you need him?”
Both. Neither. Nadia’s chest constricted. “I kissed him first. Chose the bond deliberately. But this feels different. More permanent.”
“Because it is.” Sage’s grip tightened on her shoulder, warm and steady. “You’re not just accepting connection anymore. You’re accepting commitment.”
Across the yard, Rhys finished his sequence and turned toward them. His eyes found Nadia immediately, the connection between them pulling taut. Even at this distance, she felt his wolf respond to hers.
The two unmated wolves noticed his attention shift. One of them said something quiet to his companion, and they both moved away from the fence, giving space without making it obvious.
“They can sense it.” Nadia barely breathed it. “The bond.”
“Of course they can.” Sage squeezed her shoulder once before releasing her. “You’re broadcasting claimed louder than words ever could. And Rhys—” She paused as he started toward them, his limp pronounced after the training session. “Rhys has been broadcasting mine since the moment he scented you.”
Nadia’s she forgot to breathe. She’d known he was restraining himself. Knew it pulled at him the same way it pulled at her. But hearing it stated so plainly made something flutter loose in her.
“The difference,” Sage continued, “is that now you’re broadcasting it back. And that’s what’s scaring you.”
Rhys reached them before Nadia could respond. His hand pressed at the small of her back, the touch automatic and grounding. “Everything okay?”
“Fine.” Nadia leaned into him slightly. “Just watching you work.”
His mouth curved. “Watching me hobble through drills, you mean.”
“Watching you move like a warrior despite your injuries.” Her tone didn’t break. “There’s a difference.”
Something heated in his expression. Warmth moved between them, carrying satisfaction and want in equal measure. Around them, pack wolves continued their training, but Nadia felt hyperaware of how many glances drifted their direction.
“Walk with me?” Rhys kept it low. “There’s something I want to talk about.”
Sage made a shooing motion. “Go. I have warriors to terrorize anyway.”
They walked toward the tree line, Rhys’s pace measured to accommodate his leg. Nadia matched his stride automatically, her shoulder brushing his arm. The contact steadied something restless in her.
“You’ve been tense all morning.” Rhys’s observation was gentle rather than accusatory. “Want to tell me why?”
Nadia was quiet for several steps. The forest stretched around them, snow-heavy branches creating a canopy of white. “I growled at Henry yesterday. And two wolves by the training yard just now.”
“I noticed.” Rhys kept his eyes on the path ahead. “Any particular reason?”
“They were looking at me.” She forced the words out. “Just looking. Nothing threatening or inappropriate. But my wolf wanted to—” She broke off, heat flooding her face.
“Wanted to make it clear you’re claimed?” Rhys’s voice carried understanding rather than judgment. “That you’ve chosen your mate and aren’t interested in anyone else’s attention?”
“Yes.” The admission came out small. “Is that, is that normal?”
“Completely.” He guided them to a fallen log and settled carefully, pulling her down beside him. “The possessiveness goes both ways. I’ve been suppressing mine since the moment I scented you, but it’s there. Constant.”
Nadia turned to face him. “You never show it.”
“Because I was terrified of making you feel owned.” His hand found hers. “ So I buried the instinct and told myself restraint was respect.”
“It was.” She paused. “It is. Your restraint is what made me trust you.”
“But now the bond’s settling deeper.” Rhys’s thumb traced a slow line down her palm to the inside of her wrist, where her pulse hammered against thin skin. He pressed there. Held. Let them both feel the rhythm.
Nadia’s breath came shorter. Such a small point of contact, his thumb against her pulse, and her entire body was responding to it, heat spreading up her arm and settling low in her belly.
“And your wolf is waking up to what mine has known from the start.” His voice had dropped to something low and rough. “That you’re mine the same way I’m yours.”