Chapter 8 Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Nova’s POV
The cabin felt too small the second Alaric stepped outside. Every distant howl made the walls press in tighter around me. I couldn’t sit still. The bond kept tugging in my chest, warm one moment and cold the next, like an extra heartbeat I couldn’t ignore or turn off. It pulled at me constantly now, reminding me that he was out there somewhere in the dark, hurt and exhausted, still standing guard.
I padded barefoot to the door and cracked it open just enough to see. He was right there on the porch, shirtless in the moonlight. Fresh bandages stood out white against his skin over his ribs. A thin line of blood had already soaked through the gauze, but he wasn’t paying it any mind. He leaned against the railing, head tipped back, eyes half-closed like he was listening to every rustle and whisper in the trees.
He knew I was there before I said a word. His head turned sharply. For a second, gold flashed in his eyes. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, voice rough.
I shook my head. “You either.”
A tired half-smile tugged at his mouth. “Come here.”
I stepped out onto the porch. The night air hit my bare arms and legs, raising goosebumps across my skin. He didn’t move toward me at first. He just waited, steady as always. When I got close enough, he reached out carefully, mindful of his wound, and pulled me against his chest. His skin was warm, a little damp with sweat from the earlier run. I breathed him in, pine and blood and that deep, grounding scent that was purely him. The bond flared between us, hot and insistent, like it was trying to fuse us together so nothing could pull us apart.
For a long minute, we didn’t speak. I just stood there with my cheek pressed to his chest, listening to his heart beating hard and steady beneath my ear. His hand slid slowly up my back, fingers threading into my hair with a gentleness that made my throat ache. He smelled like sweat and the forest and the faint metallic tang from his bandages.
“I meant what I said earlier,” he muttered against my hair, his voice low and rough from yelling orders all night. “I chose you. Not the bond. Not the pack. You.”
My throat tightened painfully. “Even if it screws everything up for you?”
“Especially then.” He tipped my chin up with two fingers. His green eyes were tired but wide open, letting me see everything underneath, the worry and the want and the fierce determination. “The bond makes me want to keep you alive. But this…” His thumb brushed over my bottom lip, rough from fighting. “…this is me wanting you. Just you. Scars, secrets, all of it.”
The kiss started clumsy and hesitant. Like neither of us was sure the other wouldn’t pull away. His mouth was warm, a little chapped. Then it deepened, turning hungrier. A low sound rumbled out of his throat, not quite a growl, just pure need. His hands slid to my waist and pulled me flush against him. I felt every hard line of his body, the heat pouring off him, the slight hitch in his breath when his wounded side pressed too close. I gasped into his mouth.
My fingers dug into his shoulders, gripping muscle and warm skin and the faint ridges of old scars. We stumbled back inside together. The door banged shut behind us. His hands were already tugging at my shirt. I yanked it over my head without thinking. He was already half-naked. I hooked my fingers into the waistband of his pants and shoved them down. He lifted me onto the edge of the bed like I weighed nothing, stepped between my legs, and kissed down my neck, slow at first, then harder.
His teeth grazed my collarbone. His breath came hot and uneven against my skin.
“You’re mine,” he said, voice scraped raw. “And I’m yours. No more disappearing. No more hiding.”
I pulled him down on top of me. My legs wrapped around his hips. The mattress creaked under our weight. His hands were everywhere, careful one second and rough the next. I arched into him, nails scraping down his back. The bond burned loud and steady in my chest, like it approved of every touch, every breath, every heartbeat pressed together.
We were right there on the edge, bodies slick with sweat, breaths ragged, the mark tingling under my skin like it was waiting to snap into place, when a howl tore through the night.
Not the usual angry Silverfang challenge. This one was deep. Hollow. Like something massive and empty had just woken up and was calling out.
Alaric froze on top of me. Every muscle in his body locked tight. His head snapped toward the window.
“What the fuck…”
Alarms shrieked across the settlement, sharp and panicked. Shouts exploded outside. Warriors were barking orders.
He rolled off me in one fluid motion. Claws were already lengthening at his fingertips. His eyes blazed gold. “Stay here. Lock the door. Do not open it for anyone but me.”
“Alaric…”
He was already at the door, snarling. “I’ll come back. I swear it.”
He launched outside. Mid-stride he shifted, black fur ripping over skin as the huge wolf tore off toward the sound of the alarms.
I scrambled up, heart hammering against my ribs, and yanked the blanket around myself. The cabin suddenly felt huge and empty. The bond pulled at me, sharp with worry, growing fainter as he ran farther away.
Minutes dragged by like hours. The alarms wailed, then cut off abruptly. Silence slammed down. It felt wrong. Too complete.
Then came a faint scrape at the window.
I spun around.
The glass was still intact. But outside stood a tall figure in a dark cloak, hood pulled low, face lost in shadow. No scent came through the cracks in the wood. Just cold air and something ancient, metallic.
It didn’t break the window. It simply walked through, like the glass wasn’t even there. Hood still down. Pale hands folded calmly in front of it.
I backed up hard against the wall, clutching the blanket to my chest. “Who the hell are you?”
The voice that came out was calm. Male. Almost gentle. “Daughter of the silver line. The moon calls her children home. Your essence is the key. The veil is thinning. The harvest moon is close.”
The words didn’t make any sense, but my skin crawled like spiders were running over it. The thing inside me, Drake’s stolen essence, twisted violently, like it recognized the voice and hated it with everything it had.
“What are you talking about?” My voice cracked badly.
The figure tilted its head slightly. “You will understand when the blood wakes. We wait. We watch. The true moon is coming.”
Then it dissolved. Just smoke curling into nothing. Gone.
The door flew open. Alaric stormed back in, human again, chest heaving, eyes wild. Sweat and fresh blood streaked his skin. “False alarm. The warriors found nothing. No tracks. No scent. They think the wind set off the sensors.”
He crossed the room in seconds. His hands landed on my arms, gentle but firm. “You okay? The bond went crazy. I felt your fear.”
I nodded, still shaking. “Someone was here. Inside the cabin. Cloaked. Walked right through the window. Said something about moon descendants, a veil, the harvest moon. None of it made sense.”
Alaric’s face darkened with fury. “He got past me. Past every patrol.” His arms wrapped around me hard, fury and protectiveness rolling off him in waves. “No one touches you. No one.”
He held me tight against him. I buried my face in his shoulder, breathing him in. The bond settled again, steady but heavier now. Like it knew the danger had just grown bigger than either of us expected.
Outside, the night stayed quiet.
Too quiet.
And something was still watching.