Chapter four
Jen
The truck has been moving south for miles.
Daron is driving. Dean is in the second truck behind us with the two syndicate agents in the cargo box. Harek is in the back seat with me. He has not moved from there since we left the spur where the pack split.
I am pressed against his side. His arm is around my shoulders. He smells like cedar and the warmth of him steadies me. But my mind is ahead of the truck. I am miles south of the truck with the man who is not yet bonded to me.
Fen.
Five threads in my chest are sealed. The sixth is the not. The man it belongs to is flying into a Syndicate facility right now and he is doing it without my mark on him.
That is wrong.
I have been accepting half of what fate gave us because the man on the other end of the thread was broken by the cell, the dosing, and the corridor.
I am done accepting half.
Harek's hand tightens on my arm. His eyes meet mine. He nods once.
"Daron."
"Yes."
"Stop the truck."
He doesn’t ask why. He is already braking.
The truck rolls onto the shoulder. Daron kills the engine. Behind us, Dean's truck pulls in.
I am out of the back seat before the silence finishes settling.
The cold air hits my face. The shoulder of the highway is empty. The trees are tall and block us in. I walk a few yards from the trucks onto the gravel and I cannot stand still. I am pacing. My boots on the gravel. Back and forth on the shoulder of a highway in the dark.
Harek is at the truck door. He has not gotten out. He is giving me this space.
I press my palm flat to the patch on my chest. The patch burns.
I have been the one waiting on this.
I have been waiting on him to be ready. Waiting on him to be himself and take the bond without breaking. Waiting on his humanity to come back. I don’t care, I’ll take his predator. I want Fen.
We are ready.
I close my eyes. I let it come up.
Not the way it came up at Theresa. Not by surprise.
On purpose. The horns surface at my hairline and they do not stop at the smaller version that has been with me on the drive — they come the rest of the way, the obsidian sharpening.
The slate climbs my forearms past the elbow to the shoulder.
The canines drop. The vision in both eyes sharpens and the pre-dawn light on the gravel goes brighter than before.
The voice rises in my throat. I do not hold it back. I have been holding it back since the cab. I let it out.
I speak the only word that matters.
"Mine."
The word leaves my mouth. The bond takes the rest.
The place in my chest where Fen lives answers, stretching south until I feel him catch it.
I feel him take it. The bond carries the moment back. Not words. The shape of him receiving the claim. The shape of the predator on the chain easing one degree because the woman holding the leash has just put her name on him.
Then — through the bond, from somewhere over the Cascades in the pre-dawn — his answer.
A dip in the air. The wing on his left side tilts and his body drops a wingbeat as he registers what I just did, and then he levels out, and the bond carries the rest of it.
He is smiling.
I can feel it now. He keeps flying. I’ve claimed him and he accepted me. Our bond will seal when our bodies are in the same place and make the promise. That will come, but for now–he’s mine.
Mine.
He's finishing the flight knowing. I open my eyes. The horns are still up. I walk back to the truck.
"You are beautiful. Do you feel better?"
I feel like I could split mountains apart.
Six hearts beat with mine. The world suddenly feels... larger.
Like I can finally see the war instead of the next battle. I don't have the answers yet. But I have my mates.