Chapter 18
CADE
Elias’s words still echo in my head as I make my way back through the manor.
Hybrids being declared huntable. The council is twisting the prophecy into a noose.
He said Liz was going to tell Rowan herself, but I need to see my mate.
She needs to know that the vampire and her insane grandmother aren’t the only people who will protect her.
She has to see it in my eyes.
I pause outside her room, knuckles hovering over the wooden door. For once, I don’t barge in like a storm. I knock.
“Come in.” Her voice is tired, but steady.
Rowan sits cross-legged on the bed, Archie sprawled like a smug king across her pillow, fast asleep.
The ridiculous pink muumuu is gone, replaced by more casual clothes that still have her taking my breath away.
I shut the door behind me, leaning against it longer than I should as I take her in.
Soft waves of brown hair falling over her shoulders, her skin and eyes still glowing from the power of the shift.
Not overtly bright, but enough that I notice.
Her gaze tracks me, her head tilting just so. “You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world again. More bad news, I’m guessing? Or is that just your resting alpha face?”
If only she knew how close to the truth that is. At least the weight of my world. My jaw tightens, but now I also wonder if Liz hasn’t been by yet.
I cross the room, lowering myself into the chair nearest to her. “Did Liz not tell you about the wolf council’s decision on hybrids?”
“Oh. That.” She picks at the chipping color on her nails.
“Yeah, she said training starts tomorrow. I was trying not to stress about it until then, which has been surprisingly easy considering I turned into a wolf for the first time tonight. I’m doing my best to focus on being grateful that I didn’t bite anyone.
” Her shoulders rise in a shrug. “I’d call that a win. ”
I huff under my breath, shaking my head. I’ll never understand the sense of humor in this family, but at least Rowan makes more sense than Iris when she opens her mouth.
“Right.” I lean forward, elbows braced on my knees, palms pressed together. “Elias mentioned—”
She cuts me off. “Who exactly is he? Are you related? Not that you really look alike, but your eyes are similar.”
We need to teach our mate, my wolf says, his eagerness at this task palpable.
I nod toward the book on her nightstand. “How far have you gotten with that?”
She glances over at the worn cover, and her lips thin. “Far enough to know how much pain tonight would bring.”
“So, nothing about the packs?” She shakes her head. “Would you like me to tell you about them?”
Her eyes pinch at the corners. “Are you purposely dodging my earlier question? Because if Elias is secretly your evil twin or some wolf mafia boss, I’d rather know now.”
The fact that she doesn’t hold back when she talks to me shouldn’t sit well, but it more than sits well. It feels right. Like every sharp word of hers digs deeper into me, making me want her more. Yet, I can’t tell if I like it because it’s honest, or because it’s her and the bond.
“No,” I say. “I’m trying to answer your question. Elias and I have similar eye colors because we’re from the same pack. That’s how wolves are identified.”
“Oh.” She drums her fingers over her knee, thinking much too hard.
“So, everyone in your pack has gold eyes? What about the other packs? How many are there? Are we talking dozens of wolves, hundreds, thousands? Are they all hiding in plain sight, like blending into PTA meetings and soccer practice with matching fur-tones?” Her eyes widen.
“Wait. The other creatures—vampires, witches, and whatever—are they lurking around humans, too? Do vampires actually go out killing people like in the movies?”
Her words come faster, piling over each other. Without thinking, I place a hand on her bouncing leg, firm enough to ground her. “You’re spiraling,” I mutter. “Stick with wolves for now. I promise the world won’t implode if you don’t get all your supernatural trivia answers tonight.”
Her gaze flicks down to my hand, then back up, sharp as always. “Why are you being so nice tonight? Earlier in the garden, you were about two seconds from brooding yourself into a permanent scowl, but now…”
At least she doesn’t outright call me an asshole.
Still, I can feel the weight of what I’m not saying pressing against my lips.
Except I’m not sure she’s ready to talk about the bond in such detail tonight, given she doesn’t seem to be as affected by her shift as I was. At least not in her human form.
“I acknowledge how much you’ve been thrown into,” I tell her, drawing my hand back, though I don’t want to.
“Watching you fight through your first shift tonight reminded me that you deserve more grace than I’ve been giving.
” My jaw flexes. “And…you’re my mate. Whether either of us asked for this or not, it means something to me.
Enough that I know I have to change if I’m going to help you the way I know you deserve. ”
She chuckles, and it throws me off-balance. Not because it’s wrong, but because it’s so genuine. “Like not murdering my grandmother in front of me?”
“Now that I can’t promise,” I answer dryly. “That woman’s a walking test of restraint.”
Her grin sharpens, wicked but still somehow soft at the edges.
“Fair. I can accept that, and I can’t lie.
I needed to hear it. This is a lot for me, and it’s taking every bit of strength to keep myself from drowning in all I’ve learned.
But if I’m being honest, you should know that the mate thing isn’t at the top of my to-do list. My wolf’s already filing complaint paperwork, but survival feels like priority one right now. ”
Once again, her candor strikes something deep within me, but at least I was reading her correctly.
I can’t push too hard or fast, no matter how deeply the desire to do so is growing.
Instead, I nod and change topics. If Rowan wants something she can hold onto, something solid, that’s what I’ll give her.
“Then let’s start with what you can control.
” I reach for the book on her nightstand, flipping until I find the page I want, and hold it out to her.
“There are six wolf packs in the world. Each ruled by an Alpha Supreme, though there are less powerful alphas who run the smaller, outlying packs under them. Think of it like…”
“A president and a bunch of governors?” she cuts in, brow arched with a sliver of excitement. “Look at me go. I can do politics. As long as there’s no math involved.”
I don’t typically follow the human government and haven’t ever made that comparison before, but she’s also not wrong.
“Right.” I point to the book, keeping on track. “There you can see the names of the six main packs. Solara Pack, which is where I belong. We have gold eyes. Then, there’s Glacier Crest with silver, Riverstone with blue, Thornwell with green, Stoneclaw with brown, and Shadowyn with purple.”
She looks around the room, but I’m not sure for what until she asks her questions. “What about my eyes? Am I supposed to belong to a pack now? How will I know which one?”
The memory of her wolf’s eyes returns in an instant. A combination of all the pack colors, depending on which way she was looking. I’m not sure how to answer her, but I remain truthful.
“I’m not sure,” I say. “Right now, your eyes are still a blue-green, but while you were shifted, I saw hints of all the pack colors. But that’s not anything we have to worry about now.”
“Yeah.” She looks away. “Keeping me alive is probably more important than my appearance. It’s not like I’ll ever really belong in one of those packs.”
I want to comfort her, but before I can say or do anything, she points to something else in the book. “And the main alphas, you called them Alpha Supremes? They’re from each of those packs and are what make up the council that just voted to kill me?”
I expect her voice to tremble, for panic to set in as the words leave her. Instead, it’s casual, like she’s asking if the council also controls parking tickets.
“Correct. Though they’re short one member.” This isn’t a subject I wanted to cover tonight, but I don’t want her to hear it from Iris either. “I was supposed to take the place as Alpha Supreme after my father died, but I’ve rejected it, and they haven’t replaced me.”
Her eyes blink several times before she speaks again. “I feel like I probably shouldn’t ask at this point, but I can’t help myself. Why would you do that?”
That gets a humorless chuckle out of me. “That’s a story for another time.” My voice drops, softer than I intend. “You’re barely keeping your eyes open, and we start training you tomorrow.”
She yawns so wide her jaw cracks, then flops a hand over her mouth. “Right. Liz mentioned that, too.”
A growl builds in my chest before I can stop it. “She won’t be training you. I will.”
The words linger between us, weighted and sharp. I half-expect her to bristle, to tell me I’m overstepping, and to throw my alpha command back in my face. Instead, she leans forward, her gaze running over me like she’s taking measure of more than just my words.
Then, with a nod so small I almost miss it, she whispers, “Okay.”
It’s one word, but it lands like a brand against my skin, searing deeper than I want to admit.
I rise to my feet, intent on letting her rest, but as I do, Rowan tilts forward. Her body sways like she’s had too much to drink, and she doesn’t catch herself in time, the floor getting closer to her face.
In a heartbeat, I’m there. My arms close around her before she can hit the ground, steadying her against my chest. She fits too perfectly there, warm and soft, like she belongs pressed against me.
Her eyes snap open, wide and startled, meeting mine. For a breathless stretch of time, neither of us moves. The world narrows to the space between us, the faint brush of her breath against my throat, and the undeniable pull that crackles in the air like a live wire.
Her lips part, and mine tilt closer, caught in the gravity of something I don’t have the strength to resist.
And then—
Archie lets out a shrill, kazoo-like screech of a snore, twitching in his sleep as if he’s locked in a death match with a dream squirrel.
Rowan jumps, startled by the sudden sound, and in her panic to pull back, she elbows me square in the ribs. Not expecting the impact, the air leaves my lungs in a grunt.
She stumbles, nearly tripping over herself as she twists across the bed, her eyes locked on the ferret. She’s silent while she watches and places a gentle hand over his back. The moment she touches him, he calms and seems to settle right back into sleep.
But it’s too late.
Whatever that was just seconds ago, I know it’s gone when she turns back to me.
“Sorry about that.” She avoids my eyes and mutters, “So, tomorrow morning?”
I tilt her chin up with one finger, needing her eyes on me, needing her to see the promise there. “You might hate me by the time we’re done, but you’ll thank me when it matters.”
The last of her uncertainty fades from her gaze, replaced with fire. She doesn’t look away. Neither do I. And gods help me—I don’t want to.
Except I know I have to.