4. Rune
FOUR
RUNE
Rune prowled through his mansion like a caged predator that morning, the polished marble floors echoing with the sharp staccato of his Italian leather shoes.
Each step carried the weight of barely contained fury—not at any external threat, but at the impossible situation fate had thrust upon him yesterday.
His jaw clenched as he ran a hand through his black hair, the careful styling from this morning's board meeting now destroyed by hours of restless movement.
How did I miss one?
The question burned through his mind for the hundredth time since yesterday afternoon, when the ancient magic had slammed into him like a freight train.
He'd spent decades methodically hunting down every claim marker his ancestors had buried throughout the territory.
Decades of careful excavation, systematic destruction, ensuring that no piece of ancient dragon magic could drag him into the mate bond that had destroyed his father.
Yet somewhere on his land, a woman had found what he'd somehow overlooked.
She should have come by now.
The logical part of his mind—the part that had built a global empire and commanded respect from dragons twice his age—insisted that any female dragon shifter who'd activated a claim marker would be compelled to seek him out immediately.
The ancient magic was designed to bring mates together with the inevitability of gravity.
But his fated mate hadn't appeared at his doorstep. And she hadn't come flying across the canyon in dragon form, following the pull that should have been irresistible. Instead, there was only silence and the maddening awareness that somewhere out there, she existed.
Maybe she's as resistant to this as I am.
That thought should have been comforting, but it only added another layer of complexity to an already impossible situation.
His dragon snarled in disagreement, the beast wanting nothing more than to tear through the sky until he found her, claimed her, made her understand that she belonged to him now whether either of them wanted it or not.
Rune paused at the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the canyon, his reflection staring back at him—blue eyes shot through with molten gold that betrayed his dragon's agitation.
The view beyond showed his territory stretching toward the horizon, red rock formations catching the sunlight like ancient monuments to power and permanence.
This is my domain. My rules.
But even as he thought it, heat flooded his system again—that same rush of awareness that had been plaguing him since yesterday.
She was touching the claim marker again, wherever she was, and the ancient magic that linked them together whether he wanted it or not pulsed through his veins.
His hands pressed against the cool glass as the sensation washed through him, his dragon roaring with satisfaction at the connection.
No. Stop.
Last night had been a special kind of torture.
Every time she'd handled the marker, his body had responded as if she were touching him directly.
The heat, the awareness, the maddening knowledge that somewhere his mate was experiencing the same overwhelming connection—it had driven him to pace his chambers until exhaustion finally claimed him around three in the morning.
Three hours of sleep.
For a dragon shifter who typically required substantial rest, it was a testament to how thoroughly this situation was unraveling his carefully maintained control. To make matters worse, his dragon had woken him before dawn, demanding action.
Find her. Claim her. Make her ours.
But Rune had spent centuries learning to deny his dragon's more primitive urges. The beast wanted immediate gratification, instant bonding, the kind of consuming connection that had turned his father from a powerful Alpha into a broken shell of a man after his mate's death.
No. I won't become him.
The heat flared again, stronger this time, and Rune's eyes flashed fully gold as his grip on the window frame left hairline cracks in the reinforced wood. She was close now—not just touching the marker, but physically in his territory. He could feel her presence like a magnetic pull.
The trap is closing.
For the first time in five centuries, Rune Trigg felt like prey instead of predator.
The sharp ring of his cell phone cut through the tension like a blade, and he nearly jumped—an involuntary reaction that would have been embarrassing if anyone had witnessed it.
Alphas didn't startle. They didn't lose control.
They certainly didn't let ancient magic reduce them to the emotional state of an inexperienced Alpha.
He glanced at the caller ID and felt his stomach drop.
Bram.
Rune answered on the third ring, his voice carefully controlled despite the chaos in him. "What is it, Bram?"
"There's a situation that's developed, and you need to come to the town council building immediately."
The elder's tone carried that particular blend of authority and satisfaction that Rune had learned to distrust over the centuries. Bram never called with good news, and he especially never called with the kind of barely contained excitement that colored his voice now.
"What kind of situation?" Rune kept his tone level, but his free hand clenched into a fist.
"I can't really discuss it over the phone, but it's urgent."
Bram's refusal to provide details confirmed Rune's worst suspicions. This had everything to do with the claim marker, which meant his mate was likely sitting in Bram's office right now, probably being filled with centuries of dragon tradition and mate bond propaganda.
The heat pulsed through him again, and Rune realized she was close enough now that the connection was becoming nearly unbearable. His dragon thrashed against the mental barriers he'd built, demanding action, demanding her.
"Fine," he heard himself saying, though every instinct screamed against walking into what was obviously a trap. "I'll be there in ten minutes."
He could handle this. He'd built an empire, commanded respect, survived five centuries without succumbing to the weakness that was emotional attachment. One woman with a claim marker wasn't going to destroy everything he'd built.
The ten-minute drive to the town council building felt like an eternity, every second stretching as the ancient magic pulsed through Rune's veins with increasing intensity.
His knuckles had gone white against the steering wheel, the leather creaking under the pressure of his grip.
By the time he pulled into the parking space, his dragon was clawing at his mental barriers like a caged beast desperate for freedom.
Control. You've maintained it for five centuries. Don't lose it now.
But the moment he stepped through the front entrance of the building, every carefully constructed wall he'd built around himself crumbled to dust.
The scent hit him like a tidal wave—sweet citrus intertwined with the delicate essence of roses, a combination so intoxicating it nearly brought him to his knees.
His hand shot out to brace against the wall, his fingers digging into the painted surface as he fought to remain upright.
The fragrance wrapped around him like silk, flooding his lungs and setting every nerve ending ablaze with recognition.
Mine.
His dragon roared the word with such force that Rune actually staggered, his vision flashing gold as the beast surged toward the surface.
"No," he growled under his breath. "This can't be happening."
But his traitorous body had already begun responding to her proximity.
Heat flooded his system and his pulse hammered against his throat as primal instincts he'd spent centuries suppressing roared with urgency.
Every step toward Bram's office felt like walking through molten honey, the ancient magic pulling him forward while his rational mind screamed in protest.
Get control of yourself. You walk in there, tell this woman she trespassed on your land, demand an explanation, press charges, and walk away. Simple and clean.
The plan sounded reasonable enough in his head, but his dragon had other ideas entirely. With each step down the corridor, the beast's demands grew more insistent, more violent.
You will not send our mate away. You need to claim her. Mark her. Make her understand what she is to us.
"No," Rune repeated through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
The fluorescent lights above seemed too bright, the walls too close, everything amplified by the overwhelming awareness of her presence just ahead.
When he finally reached Bram's office, he didn't bother with the courtesy of knocking.
His hand closed around the door handle, and he pushed inside with the controlled violence of a predator entering enemy territory.
He almost wished he'd never opened that door.
Standing there in dark jeans that hugged her lean frame and a cream sweater that brought out the warm undertones in her skin was his fated mate.
She looked like everything he'd never allowed himself to want—intelligent green eyes that held depths he could spend centuries exploring, dark hair pulled back in a way that revealed the elegant line of her neck, and an aura of quiet competence that spoke to something primal in him.
Her scent enveloped him completely now, wrapping around him like a warm embrace that made his chest tighten with longing he refused to acknowledge.
But more startling was the realization that she was human. That's why she hadn't come to him immediately last night, why she hadn't shifted into dragon form and flown across his territory following the irresistible pull of the mate bond.
How did she find the claim marker then?