Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
FERAL
The next morning, I woke before Victoria.
The room was quiet except for her breathing, steady and even against my chest. Dawn hadn’t broken yet, just the barest hint of gray touching the windows.
Something had changed between us. I’d stopped pretending I didn’t know what it was.
I eased out from under her carefully, the way I’d move through underbrush tracking prey. She made a small sound, her hand reaching for where I’d been, then curled into the warm spot I’d left on the mattress.
I stood beside the bed, watching her sleep as the sun crested the horizon. Her hair had come loose from whatever she’d done to it before bed, falling across the pillow in dark waves. One hand tucked under her cheek, the other still reaching.
My wolf rumbled, pleased.
I needed to move. Do something with the feeling building in my chest. Doing was the only language I knew.
I bathed and dressed quickly and left the suite before she could wake and find me standing over her like a lovesick fool.
I took the stairs down two at a time, my boots hitting the worn wood in a rhythm I’d walked a thousand times. The compound outside sat quiet in the early-dawn stillness. A few early risers strode through the clearing, heading toward the training grounds or morning patrols.
I told myself I was heading to the guard station because Kirk had left patrol reports there. That I needed to review them before our briefing.
The lie lasted until I turned, took the stairs back up to the second floor, and walked through the kitchen door.
Helen stood at the counter like usual, rolling out pastry dough with the same fierce attention she gave everything. She glanced up when I entered, flour dusting her forearms.
“Alpha.” Her tone stayed neutral. “You’re early this morning.”
“I have patrol reports to review.”
“I see.” She laid a thick coating of butter on the pastry dough and folded it carefully, setting it aside.
“I need a breakfast tray sent up.”
“The usual for you and your wife?”
“Yes. And…” I weighed whether to continue. “Include something for the squirrel.”
Her hands stilled on the next swathe of dough for half a breath before she resumed rolling. “The squirrel.”
“Dried fruit. Not the salted kind, he won’t touch it. Some of the good bread, torn into small pieces. Maybe a few of those honey cakes if you have them.”
Helen’s expression stayed carefully blank, but her eyes did something I didn’t like. A flicker of what might be amusement or understanding or both might gleam there.
“The squirrel has preferences,” she said.
“Apparently.”
“And you’ve taken the time to learn them.”
I grunted. “Just make the tray.”
“Right away, Alpha.”
I left before she could say anything else, the knowing look in her eyes following me out the door.
The breakfast tray arrived ten minutes after I’d placed a territory map on the small dining table. I took it from the staff and carefully laid it in the center. Sounds rang out from the bedroom, telling me Victoria would be out soon.
“Thank you,” I told Fitz, who’d brought the tray.
His gaze shot around the sitting area before he ducked his head in a short bow and practically ran from the room.
I laid the territory map on the small table, then checked the tray to make sure everything was just right. Tea at the right temperature. Her favorite jam within easy reach. The flowers I’d picked still listed to one side in the urn, but she’d added water, so they’d perked up.
Soft footsteps crossed the wooden floor. She emerged wearing a simple dress in deep blue, her hair pulled back at her nape. When she saw me at the table, a confused look crossed her face before she smoothed it.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Morning.”
“Breakfast again?”
“We have to eat, don’t we?” I didn’t like how gruff my words came out, but what did a male say at a time like this?
“Thank you.” She sat across from me. Our knees almost touched under the table. Neither of us shifted away.
I poured her tea, the floral blend she preferred. I didn’t examine how I knew these things about her. I just did.
Acorn scurried into the room a moment later, his tail high, his whiskers twitching.
He spotted the small plate I’d set at the edge of the table and leaped up to investigate.
He examined each item with the careful attention of a royal taster.
Sniffed the dried fruit. Turned over a piece of bread.
Sampled a honey cake and chittered, which I hope meant it was acceptable.
I pretended this didn’t please me.
Victoria hid a smile behind her teacup.
We ate. I found myself talking through a border concern half to myself, half to her. A natural thing now, when it hadn’t been at the start.
“The eastern ridge has been getting pressure from Crikon’s pack.” I marked a section of the map with my finger. “Nothing serious yet. Just posturing. But I’ll need to run the boundary this week, remind them where the markers sit.”
Victoria spread jam on her bread. “How often do you have to patrol?”
“Every few days for the critical sections. Monthly for the rest.”
“That seems excessive.”
“It’s necessary.” I marked another location, this one near the northern territories. “Especially with the shifting sickness affecting so many pack members. Rival packs can smell weakness.”
Her eyes snagged on something on the map. “What are these symbols?”
I followed her gaze to the small marks I’d drawn years ago, copying them from my father’s old maps. “Pack seal sites. Ancient boundary magic. Most of them are dormant now, just historical markers.”
“But they were functional once.”
“A long time ago. Before my father’s time, even. The old alphas used them to bind pack territories and mark sacred ground. The magic’s mostly faded.”
She leaned closer, studying the symbols. I could smell her shampoo, something floral and clean. “How many sites are there?”
“Across the whole territory? Maybe two dozen.” I marked the locations of recently affected pack members as I talked, dots spreading across the northern section. “These are where the sick wolves patrol most often. You asked about understanding the territory better.”
Her enchanted pen hovered over her notebook, taking notes in her precise handwriting. Silence rang out between us.
I looked up.
Victoria’s expression had gone distant, the way she did when she was working through a problem.
“The weather’s been good for running patrols,” she said, turning her attention back to her bread. “You should be able to cover the eastern ridge before the next storm system moves through.”
The subject change felt deliberate.
I watched her spread jam with careful attention, her movements just slightly too focused. She was holding something back. A theory half-formed, maybe. Or a connection she wasn’t ready to voice.
I filed it away but didn’t push.
Mid-morning found me heading back upstairs to grab documents I’d forgotten. I found Victoria in the laboratory, surrounded by crates.
“What are you doing?”
“I was about to move some equipment down to the clearing,” she said without looking up from the inventory she was taking. “My crystallization experiment requires more space than I have up here, and the light spells will be easier to manage outdoors.”
I crossed the room and lifted a crate.
“What are you doing?” she asked, frowning.
“Helping.”
I grabbed the large cauldron with my other hand, its weight nothing compared to what I carried on hunts. The stairs were narrow, but I’d walked them enough times to know every turn.
I made it down in less than a minute, set everything in the clearing, and headed back up.
Victoria stood in the laboratory doorway, another crate balanced on her hip.
I took it from her.
“I can manage that,” she said.
“I know.”
I made two more trips, taking it all downstairs for her. When I came back the final time, she had her notebook and a small case of vials in her hands.
I picked her up, one arm under her knees, the other around her back.
She went rigid. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you downstairs.”
“I have functional legs.”
I blinked at her, genuinely confused. “The stairs are steep. Your hands are full. This is faster.”
“Put me down.”
“I’m trying to help.”
“By carrying me like a sack of grain?”
“You’re much lighter than grain.”
Her mouth opened. Closed. She stared at me long enough that I almost set her down and apologized.
Instead, she twisted in my arms and pointed at the stairs. “Fine. But if you drop me, I’m cursing your pillow to make you sweat.”
I carried her down all one hundred and four steps without dropping her, though I wasn’t sure she’d make good on her threat. She didn’t relax into it the way she had on the mop, but she didn’t fight me about it either.
When I set her on her feet at the bottom, she smoothed her skirts and walked outside without comment.
I stood where I was trying to figure out if I’d done something wrong.
My wolf offered no insight.
Kirk intercepted me near the main hall, a rolled parchment in one hand.
“Border report,” he said, handing it over. “I encountered minor territorial pressure from Bastian’s northern pack. They’ve been ranging closer to the creek tributaries. It’s worth watching.”
I scanned the report, noting the patrol patterns. “Double the watch in that section. I want to know if they cross the boundary.”
“Already done.” Kirk’s expression stayed neutral, but his face tightened. “The pack’s settling well.”
“Good.”
“They like her, Alpha.”
I grunted and kept reading.
“Helen mentioned there’s now a standing order for food for the squirrel.”
I looked up.
Kirk’s face revealed nothing. “Just thought you should know it’s being handled.”
“I’m glad.”
He nodded once and left, taking his knowing silence with him.
My mind circled back to the moment when Victoria’s pen had gone still over the map. The way she’d changed the subject when I mentioned the seal sites.
She’d seen something I’d missed.
I’d been running this territory for thirteen years. I knew every boundary marker, game trail, and pack seal location.
What had she seen that I’d missed?
I made myself not look toward the clearing where she worked. By the time I’d reached the edge of the open area, I’d shifted.
I let my wolf run free.
Late afternoon sunlight slanted through the canopy as I crossed the clearing. After finishing running the property lines and finding nothing amiss, I’d meant to head to my office to review the updated patrol schedules, and plan the eastern ridge run Kirk could take care of tonight.
I stopped when I saw Victoria.
She’d set up her workspace in a sunny section near the garden. Half my pack had found reasons to be nearby. Maria and Tessa sparred a short distance from her, glancing her way so often they would’ve stabbed each other if they weren’t paying attention.
Robin tended vegetables, though he kept stopping and calling out questions to Victoria. She didn’t seem to be upset about it. She just paused and answered before returning to her work.
Even Kirk had stationed himself by her, his attention split between the training warriors and the witch with jam on her sleeve.
They were all watching her while pretending not to watch her.
Victoria sat cross-legged on a blanket, her notebook open, her enchanted pen hovering as she dictated observations.
Glass beakers caught the light, arranged in a careful grid around her.
The crystallization experiment? Acorn had curled up in a patch of sun near her knee, his tail draped across her thigh.
She hadn’t noticed me.
She kept pushing her hair back without looking away from her work, gesturing with one hand while talking to her pen. A small smile crossed her face when Acorn’s tail twitched in his sleep.
My pack had accepted her. This wasn’t tolerating her presence or acknowledgement of her title. They’d claimed her the way they claimed territory. Made space for her.
I’d gone to the kitchens this morning and described a squirrel’s food preferences in detail.
I knew the exact temperature Victoria liked her tea.
I’d carried her equipment down one hundred and four stairs without being asked and carried her too because the stairs were steep, and I’d worried she’d fall and that was simply logical.
I’d picked flowers for her, though I’d forgotten to add water.
I’d tracked her through the forest when my wolf was worried.
I’d made a standing order for Acorn’s food.
For thirteen years, I’d run this territory alone. I’d made it my whole self. Built my identity around being alpha, king, and the wolf who didn’t need anyone.
And now it appeared I was courting a pretty witch with a squirrel companion through carefully arranged breakfast trays.
She meant everything to me.
The thought arrived without drama. It settled into place like it had always been there, waiting for me to notice.
My wolf said nothing. That was how I knew it was serious.
Victoria added something to one of the beakers. The movement made her dress catch the light, and I noticed the small stain near the hem from where she might’ve knelt in the dirt to collect samples.
I’d been undone not by beauty or strength, but by the way she talked to her pen. By choosing nuts for a squirrel. And by the fierce intelligence in her eyes when she studied my maps and saw patterns I’d missed.
I should leave. I had work waiting. Trainings to organize. Border disputes that wouldn’t resolve themselves. So I made myself turn and walk away before anyone noticed their alpha staring at his wife like she was his whole world.
I was in trouble.
And I had no interest in getting out of it.