Chapter Eight #2
A fragile happiness, yes. A bubble. But in that bubble, I was free to simply belong with him.
The forest became our world, one of falling leaves and autumn light, real but fleeting like the substance of our happiness.
We hunted as wolves, shared warmth by the fire, spoke of things we’d never dared say in the daylight.
With each passing night, Dierk opened a little more, his growl softer, his past spilling into the quiet between us.
And when words ran out, the nights filled with skin and sighs and moans. I knew his body like I knew my own now. Every scar, every shiver, every piece of him that burned when I touched.
For a little while, the world was nothing but us.
HIS TOUCH WOKE ME.
I stirred, feeling the heat of his body pressed along my back, his arm heavy at my waist. But he wasn’t relaxed. His muscles were stone, his breath measured and too even. I felt his worry. I turned and found his eyes open, gold burning low in the dark. “Someone’s here,” he whispered.
Then I heard it too. The soft, careful steps outside. The rhythm of danger, patient and sure, pacing just beyond the door.
Every nerve in me snapped awake. The fire beneath my skin unfurled, readying to be used.
The door detonated. A blast of wood and smoke ripped through the room, scattering embers from the hearth like startled fireflies. They’d blown the hinges clean off, the wards with them.
The first assassin surged through the haze, knife raised in a flash of silver. Dierk was already moving. He caught the man mid-leap, slamming him into the wall, the impact crashing so hard it shook dust from the rafters.
Another attacker dove in from the side, and another after him, and another.
My mate shifted, his snarl a guttural sound that vibrated in my bones and launched to the closest assassin, taking him by the throat.
There was no way he was going to fight this alone.
I reached for my power. Heat built inside my chest, rising strong and sure until it spilled from me in a torrent that bent the air.
The light turned gold, and the walls trembled with it.
Two of the assassins closest to the doorway staggered back, choking as I stole the breath from the air around them.
But more rushed in through the smoke. Three, maybe four, blades glinting.
“Left!” I shouted when I caught the movement of a blade too close to him.
It wasn’t a command so much as instinct, a warning torn from my throat.
Dierk snapped, his head whipped left just as the attacker lunged from the blind side. He caught the man mid-strike, fangs flashing, and drove him to the ground.
The snarl that followed was pure wolf. I didn’t have to tell him anything after that—he was strength and instinct, answering danger as if it had called his name. His body became a wall between me and the blades; mine, the fire that cleared his path and protected his charge.
I swept my arm, dragging heat through the smoke, and fire curled along the floorboards, blocking those who made it too near, repelling those who tried to use fire. He dove through the gap I made, a blur of fur and muscle, taking one down as I pulled the air tight again, starving another of breath.
Through the bond, I felt him, heat under my skin, every motion, every strike.
One attacker lunged; Dierk’s fangs caught flesh. Another tried to flank me, but I turned, exhaled, and fire leapt from my fingertips, bright enough to sear the shadows away before he could call his.
And then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. The last man hit the floor with a heavy, final sound.
Silence pressed in. Only the pop of cooling wood and our ragged breaths filled the room. The scent of ash and blood hung thick between us.
Dierk’s chest heaved as his wolf receded, muscles trembling under the fading light of his power. His face was streaked with soot, his eyes still wild and glowing.
I pushed up, unsteady, my pulse thrumming through my whole body.
He looked at me, jaw tight, fire dimming in his gaze. “Are you hurt?” he whispered.
“No. You?”
He shrugged, arrogant. “Please.”
But his voice was rough, his hand still shaking when it found mine. And under the ruin of the door, with smoke curling around us, he took my mouth with rage and fear before stepping away, just as violently. “There might be more. In the woods.”
I nodded. “Let’s hunt.”
We both shifted, ran the perimeter of the cabin, then followed the scents where they took us deep in the forest. Three more, all separated. We wouldn’t catch them. So we ran back to the cabin.
“They will go straight to your father,” Dierk said, taking in the damage to the cottage.
“I hope they will,” I said, pulling my hair into something that almost resembled order. “Let them tell him we can’t be taken down by a pack of his dogs.”
“How savage of you,” he murmured, eyes tracing me, amusement darkening his scent until it crowded the space between us.
I crossed close, closer, until the air itself trembled. He drew a sharp breath, leaning toward me. “There are bodies on the floor.”
I flicked my fingers, letting my magic surge outward. Heat rippled through the room, and the fallen males slid out of the ravaged door in a rasp of boots and ash.
He arched a brow. “Convenient.”
“Efficient,” I countered.
He caught my waist and lifted me. I wrapped my legs around him, took his mouth, and the rest of the night fell away.