Chapter 6 Korrak
SIX
KORRAK
The Jeep’s engine cut through the crystalline silence as Korrak pulled away from the research outpost, but the sound felt hollow compared to the roar of conflict in his mind.
Each mile that stretched between him and Winslet carved at him, an ache he hadn’t experienced since standing at the edge of that avalanche site eighteen years ago, watching rescue teams pull his parents’ bodies from the snow.
This is different, he told himself, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles went white. This is choice, not loss.
But the distinction felt meaningless when every instinct screamed at him to turn around, to go back and collect what belonged to him.
The ice road stretched ahead, familiar and predictable, yet his attention fractured despite his best efforts.
His mind replayed the morning without permission—Winslet padding into his kitchen barefoot, wearing only his shirt that hung loose and tantalizing on her curves.
How sleep had softened her usual guardedness, leaving her unaware of the picture she presented.
And the surge of primal hunger that had nearly shattered his control.
He’d come within a heartbeat of lifting her onto that kitchen counter and claiming what his polar bear insisted was rightfully his. The only thing that had stopped him was eighteen years of practiced restraint and the knowledge that she had no idea what she was to him.
She doesn’t know she’s mine, he reminded himself. And I’m not ready to accept the mate bond either.
The admission settled heavy in his chest. In thirty-five years, he’d never had to fight himself this hard. Never had his polar bear push against his human control with such relentless determination. The realization unsettled him more than any external threat ever had.
Control was his foundation. Without it, everything crumbled.
But his thoughts circled back to the drive to the outpost, analyzing it like he would any tactical situation.
Winslet had been too quiet—closed off in a way that hadn’t been there during dinner or even breakfast. Something had shifted between the moment she’d emerged from his bedroom fully dressed and when she’d said goodbye.
The woman who’d moved through his cabin like she belonged there had retreated behind walls he couldn’t see but definitely felt.
What spooked her?
The question irritated him because he cared about the answer. Because her emotional state mattered to him in a way that defied logic. He’d spent decades focusing solely on threats that could harm his territory or clan, and suddenly he was hypersensitive to the feelings of one human woman.
Dangerous territory, his rational mind warned. Distractions cause mistakes. Mistakes get people killed.
The familiar mantra had guided him through every crisis and every decision that shaped his leadership. But now it felt inadequate, like armor that no longer fit properly.
By the time his cabin materialized through the trees, Korrak had reached a decision born of discipline rather than desire. He needed distance from Winslet. Space. Time to think without her scent clouding his judgment or her presence making his polar bear restless with need.
She’s temporary, he told himself, pulling into the detached garage beside his cabin. She said it herself—things change quickly, you have to adapt.
The polar bear inside him disagreed with violent intensity, claws raking against his mental restraint. Every instinct demanded he return to the outpost, stake his claim, make it clear that she belonged to him whether she understood it or not.
But he forced the beast down, his jaw clenching against the internal battle.
He would not act on impulse. He would not become the kind of man who lost himself to base instincts. His parents had raised him better than that, even if their time had been cut short.
The garage fell silent as he cut the engine, but Korrak remained seated, hands still gripping the wheel. The familiar space felt different now—smaller somehow, as if Winslet’s absence had changed the very air around him.
Get it together, he commanded himself. You have responsibilities. A clan to protect. A territory to maintain.
But even as he repeated the words that had anchored him for eighteen years, they felt hollow. Because for the first time since becoming Alpha, duty and desire were pulling him in opposite directions.
And he wasn’t sure which would win out.
Korrak finally got out of his Jeep and walked toward the front of his cabin.
When he rounded the corner, he found Kol lounging against the porch rail like he owned the place, arms crossed and wearing that insufferable smirk that meant trouble.
The sight of his Beta waiting for him sent irritation crackling through Korrak’s already frayed nerves.
Of course he’s here. Nothing stays quiet in this territory for long.
Kol straightened as Korrak approached, his gray eyes sharp with calculation despite his casual posture.
“Comfortable?” Korrak’s voice carried the edge of command, though he knew it would bounce off Kol like ice off stone.
“Always.” Kol’s grin widened. “I heard you’ve allowed another human into the territory.”
The words hit with deceptive casualness, but Korrak caught the undercurrent immediately. His polar bear bristled at the implied criticism, at the suggestion that he’d made a mistake.
“What’s your point, Kol?”
“You know humans bring trouble.” Kol pushed off the rail, his tone sharpening despite the conversational delivery. “Curiosity. Danger. Exposure. We’ve had this conversation before.”
Not about her, we haven’t. The thought came unbidden, fierce and possessive. Korrak forced his expression to remain neutral even as his hands curled into fists at his sides.
“She’s no threat.” The words came out more curtly than he’d intended, betraying the tension coiled tight in his chest. “I’ve assessed the situation personally.”
Kol’s eyebrows shot up, and that damned smirk returned full force. “You trust a human that quickly? Really? It took you over a year to fully trust Ellie, and she came with credentials and references.”
The comparison stung because it was accurate. Korrak had spent months evaluating Ellie’s every move, questioning her motives, testing her competence before allowing her to establish the research outpost. With Winslet, he’d made the decision to let her stay within minutes of meeting her.
Because she’s mine, his polar bear growled.
“Winslet is different.” The admission slipped out. “She adapts quickly. Knows enough to survive here.”
Kol’s expression sharpened, his head tilting with predatory interest. “How so? Because this all sounds a bit suspicious.”
Korrak felt the trap closing around him, and saw the knowing gleam in his Beta’s eyes. Kol had always been too perceptive for his own good, too quick to read between the lines of what Korrak didn’t say.
“She’s careful. Observant. Has good instincts.” Each word felt inadequate, failing to capture the way Winslet moved through the world with that guarded competence, the way she’d fit into his cabin like she belonged there.
“Uh-huh.” Kol’s smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, amusement dancing in his gray eyes. “I can see it, you know. You’re already softening toward her. Don’t bother trying to hide it.”
The accusation hit its intended mark, making Korrak’s hands clench tighter. A growl rumbled low in his throat, denial and frustration warring in his chest.
“It’s nothing.”
“Sure it isn’t.” Kol’s voice carried that dry skepticism that meant he’d already seen through every layer of Korrak’s carefully constructed facade.
“You’re a terrible liar, Korrak. If it’s really nothing, then why is your breathing so forced?
Why can I practically see the wheels spinning in your head? ”
Because she’s my fated mate, Korrak thought desperately.
The mate bond thrummed in his chest like a distant drum, insistent and undeniable.
Kol wasn’t stupid—one look at his Alpha’s reaction and he’d piece together the truth that Korrak wasn’t ready to acknowledge himself.
“Kol.” Korrak’s voice dropped to the tone that usually ended conversations, flat and final. “Don’t tell anyone about this yet.”
The admission hung between them, confirmation and warning rolled into one. Kol’s expression shifted, the amusement fading into something more serious and more understanding.
“The clan will get restless if they think—“
“The only thing they need to know right now is that she’s under my protection.” Korrak’s words carried the weight of absolute authority, the kind of command that had kept his territory secure for eighteen years. “That’s all.”
Kol studied him for a long moment, then that insufferable grin returned. “The clan will figure it out soon enough. Probably before you stop lying to yourself.” He pushed away from the porch, hands sliding into his jacket pockets. “Enjoy the delusion while you can, Alpha.”
Korrak watched his Beta walk away with measured steps, irritation and concern warring in his chest. The casual dismissal rankled, but underneath it lay a deeper worry—if Kol had seen through his defenses this easily, how long before the rest of the clan noticed?
This is getting away from me too fast.
The thought followed him as he climbed the porch steps, each board creaking under his weight. He wasn’t ready for this. Wasn’t prepared to balance the demands of leadership with the overwhelming pull of the mate bond. Wasn’t sure he even wanted to try.
The minute Korrak entered his cabin, the silence felt oppressive. The space still carried traces of Winslet’s scent, faint but unmistakable, making his chest tighten with longing he couldn’t afford.
Abandon caution, his polar bear urged. Claim what’s ours. Protect her properly.
But his rational mind pushed back with eighteen years of hard-won discipline. Mates were vulnerabilities. Attachments blinded you to danger. She was human—fragile and unpredictable.