Chapter 14 - Hunter
I wake before Tessa does, which has been the case ever since our retreat began.
My body pulls me out of sleep at some unreasonable hour regardless of when I went down, and I spend a while staring up at the ceiling until I decide I’ve had enough, but this morning is a little different.
Now, I’m fully aware of her next to me in a way I wasn’t before. While the innate connection we had always drawn me to her, now it’s like a piece of her is in my chest, and it’s finely tuned to her wavelength.
In a way, it almost feels unearned for me as I let the reality of it settle in.
Everything about this situation has changed now, and I should’ve seen it coming after being forced to spend this time in such close quarters.
I knew what intimacy would do to it. Theoretically, anyway.
But the theory didn’t prepare me for lying wide awake at five in the morning, feeling the bond like a second heartbeat, and feeling her in it.
I can sense her presence and emotions with a clarity that makes all my years of deliberate distance feel both logically sound and completely absurd, as if I were just delaying the inevitable.
I turn my head and look at her.
Tessa’s sleeping on her side, facing away, and even while unconscious, she manages to maintain the border between us. Her breathing is slow, and like this, her thoughts are suspended by sleep, smoothing out the tension she carries in her jaw when she’s conscious.
Looking at her longer than necessary, I know she would scold me if she were awake, which only makes this moment feel even more substantial to me.
Before, I told myself I’d wait. I planned to be patient and considerate of everything she’s been working through.
I meant to let her come to it in her own time, on her own terms, as one of the few things in this situation she could actually choose.
But then she had been right there in the dark and the steam, and she’d looked at me and kissed me back.
Immediately, the plan folded in on itself with a completeness that I’m still struggling to understand.
But in all honesty, it’s not complicated at all.
I’ve spent most of my life trying to pretend I never felt anything for her, but with the opportunity to be near her falling into my lap, and the ceremony that officially bound us together, I couldn’t push it away anymore. I especially can’t now.
I claimed her completely, even if I should’ve waited, and for that, I’m not sorry.
It’s impossible to be when I can feel this heightened link between us, even in sleep.
Still, I know nothing is explicitly fixed, and I have a long way to go before I can ever accomplish that, but I get up before I do something counterproductive, like waking her up just to confirm she’s still here, and still mine.
Later in the day, Tessa is quiet on the drive back, which shouldn’t be a surprise.
She’s containing herself and giving me nothing to work with, just like before, but there’s a new layer to it now. There are too many things she needs to work through at once, and I can feel the edges of it through the bond, but I can’t read the specifics.
I don’t push. Rather, I drive, watching the elevation drop through the windshield while silence keeps us company.
She looks out the passenger window the whole way, and at one point, she shifts in her seat, and I think she might say something. She doesn’t.
So I keep my eyes on the road and try to ignore the way the cold front coming from her slowly eats away at me.
When we get back to the house, Tessa moves through the front and up the stairs, doing so deliberately before she disappears into the guest room before I even have the bags fully inside. It doesn’t necessarily feel like she’s retreating, but she vanishes anyway, making herself unavailable to me.
Even so, the bond knows exactly where she is, and with her safe under my roof again, I know there’s nothing I can do for now but wait.
I go to the kitchen to busy myself with whatever I can and try to decide if what I’m feeling is normal frustration or the ache of wanting something that’s just out of reach.
Probably both, just like it always has been.
I won’t pretend like I expected her to open up to me the moment we completed the bond, but I at least thought she might feel more willing to try. I’m starting to see that it was more wishful thinking on my behalf.
***
Mom shows up at three without calling ahead, which she’s done my entire life and apparently still hasn’t considered adjusting.
Cole is with her, and I see his truck through the kitchen window before the knock comes. I have a brief moment to predict how this conversation is going to go before I open the door, and I brace myself either way.
Cole stands behind Mom with his gaze fixed on me, and he gives me a subtle nod paired with a vaguely knowing look, as if he’s well aware of the complications I’m already facing.
After Dad died and Cole took me under his wing as a kid, he seemed to develop a sixth sense to read me like a book.
Regardless of the years, that hasn’t changed either.
I respect him, but that doesn’t make this conversation any easier.
Sensing Tessa through the bond, I can feel her out in the woods, but not too far away to cause any concern.
Instinctively, I wanted to keep her here, exactly where I could see her, but I knew that would be pushing things too far. I’ve already smothered her enough, and I don’t need to make it worse.
At the very least, if she ever tried to run, I’d be on her faster than she could hope to hit Coldreach.
Glancing between Mom and Cole, I murmur, “Coffee?”
“Please,” my mother says. Cole just nods and takes the chair at the far end of the table that he usually does.
Getting to it, I pour the coffee and join them a few minutes later.
“You’re back early,” my mother says. “Most couples wait until the end of the day to return.”
“We could spare a few hours,” I tell them as I take my own seat and prepare myself for whatever angles they’ll try to pry at. “Besides, with Hayes Voss being unpredictable, I didn’t want to be away too long.”
“Spoken like a true alpha,” Cole murmurs into his mug, which earns him a look from Mom. Regardless, he shrugs it off.
“How is she?” She asks, returning her eyes to me.
As genuine as it sounds, I catch the slightly harder edge to her gaze, like she wants to be supportive, but that part of her still can’t get past what happened.
“She’s adjusting.”
Mom gives me a flat look. “Hunter.”
“Tessa came back with me willingly, so that counts for something,” I say, more earnestly this time. “She’s out for a walk, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“It counts for what it is… but that’s not saying much,” Cole mumbles as he sits back and crosses his arms. “How do you feel at least?”
“About which part?”
“All of it. Any of it.”
I glance down at the coffee mug resting between my hands, and I gather my thoughts as well as I can.
“The bond is settled. Whatever questions I had before about whether I was reading it correctly or if it would develop into something that warranted acting quickly, they’ve been answered. I’m not doubting it anymore.”
Both of them seem satisfied that I’ve jumped to the chase, but they swallow it in different ways.
Mom’s expression shifts between relief and something more careful. “And Tessa? Does she feel the same?”
“She acknowledged the bond. She just… hasn’t arrived at the same place emotionally with it yet.”
“She’s resisting it,” Cole says, knowing what that means.
“She has every reason to be resistant,” I return, keeping my tone as cool as I can. “So I’m not pushing her.”
Even with the bond completed and returning home with Tessa, knowing she’s safe and sound, the instincts and urges in me still aren’t completely settled yet. Talking about her in a way that even borders on being unsupportive has me on edge.
“Yes, she does,” Cole agrees.
“Hunter,” Mom begins with a quiet breath as she sets her cup down. “I want to ask you something, and I want you to hear it as a real question, not as me being unkind about her.”
Something in me hesitates, vaguely worried about where that might lead this conversation and how I’ll react, but I pull myself in and nod.
She takes a moment to gather her words before she asks, “Are you certain this is a genuine bond and not some internalized guilt cropping up?”
I sit with that for a moment because it deserves a real answer, not a reactive one.
“No. I’ve considered that, but I assure you, this is real,” I say honestly, feeling no need to sugarcoat it.
“The guilt exists from not doing anything to make her life here easier before, yet it’s more than that.
I’ve felt this before I could even truly understand what it meant, and I’m not going to pretend like it isn’t anymore. ”
Cole nods slowly while he mulls it over. “Even so, there’s the question of the pack.”
Something in my chest tightens all over again, making me bristle.
“Her name still carries weight, bond or no,” he continues.
“Not everyone was satisfied with the announcement or the ceremony. Most are relieved to know their alpha has chosen someone, but that doesn’t mean they’ve accepted her.
Several senior members are concerned about what her position means for the future of this pack.
About whether the symbolism of the alpha’s mate being—”
“Careful,” I mutter, unsure of how much I can listen to before my patience slips from me.
Cole’s eyes meet mine steadily, and he continues, “About whether the history between her family and this pack creates instability. That’s a legitimate concern for a functioning community, Hunter. I’m not making it an attack on the girl.”
“The instability isn’t coming from Tessa,” I tell them, standing up since sitting feels wrong for this.
I move to the window to look at the woods while I keep my voice even.
“It’s coming from people who’ve spent over a decade directing their grief at someone who had no hand in it.
That’s what needs to be resolved, not her position. Not Tessa herself.”
“You may be right,” Cole admits, exhaling deeply. “But right and manageable are not always the same thing.”
“I’m aware.” I turn back to face them, and to let them see that I’m serious about this.
“I’ve made the decision, and it’s done. I don’t need permission or doubt.
I need support for a process that’s going to take time and requires the pack to see that this is settled.
It needs to come from people they trust.”
Mom is quiet for a moment, then she looks at her coffee cup, and something in her shoulders shifts fractionally, as if she has reached a concession, she’s not quite ready to name yet.
Cole looks at me for a long moment with those eyes that have seen several decades of pack politics and difficult decisions, along with the specific aftermath of both.
They both know what I’m insinuating and asking of them.
“All right,” he says with a note of finality.
There’s no enthusiasm in it, but it isn’t refusal either. From Cole, that’s all I need to hear.