Chapter 17: The border

The silence between us was not empty. It was full of every unspoken word, every charged glance, every breath we had shared and withheld. It was a living thing, and it was screaming.

Garrick did not ask. He appeared at the door of the healing ward as I was checking Kael’s bandages. The boy was sleeping peacefully, the Shadowmoss poultice having broken his fever overnight. “With me,” Garrick said, his voice leaving no room for question. He turned and walked away, expecting me to follow.

I caught up to him in the courtyard where two horses were saddled. He said nothing about our destination, and I asked no questions. He mounted his large black stallion and looked down at me, his eyes a simmering flame. The memory of his thumb on my lip, his hand in my hair, was a brand on my skin. He kicked his horse into a walk, and I fell in beside him on a smaller, sturdy mare.

We rode to the northern border. The forest was deep and quiet, the only sounds the crunch of hooves on the path and the calls of distant birds. He did not speak. But his awareness of me was a physical force. I could feel his gaze like a touch every time I shifted in the saddle, every time I pushed a stray strand of hair from my face. My own skin was hyper-sensitive, prickling with the knowledge of his nearness. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth and the pure, untamed male energy radiating from him.

After an hour, we reached a high ridge overlooking a narrow river that marked the edge of his territory. He dismounted, his movements fluid and powerful, and tied his horse to a low-hanging branch. I did the same. He walked to the edge of the cliff and stood, surveying his lands, his back to me. The wind tugged at his dark hair and the fabric of his shirt, outlining the formidable strength of his shoulders and back.

I stood a few feet away, my arms crossed against a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

“This is the closest point to Harker’s territory,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet. He still didn’t look at me. “He tests the boundary here. Often.”

“Why did you bring me?” My voice was softer than I intended.

Finally, he turned. His eyes were dark, intense. “I told you. No more shadows. If you are to be here, you will see it all. The good and the bad. The peace and the threat.”

He took a step toward me. Then another. The space between us, which had felt vast a moment before, now felt impossibly small. “And I wanted you alone.”

My breath caught. His gaze dropped to my lips, and heat flooded my body. This was it. The culmination of all the tension, all the stolen moments. He was going to kiss me. Here, on the edge of the world. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, eager drum.

A twig snapped in the forest behind us.

The sound was like a gunshot. Garrick’s head whipped around, his body going rigid. In an instant, the desire in his eyes was replaced by a lethal, predatory focus.

“Get behind me,” he commanded, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

I moved without thought, pressing my back against the solid wall of his. The forest, which had been so quiet, now felt like it was holding its breath.

They emerged from the trees without a sound. Five of them. They were large, ragged, with the hungry eyes of wolves who had been pushed to the fringe. Harker’s scouts. They fanned out, surrounding us on the cliff edge.

“Well, well,” the lead one snarled, his yellowed teeth bared in a grin. “The Alpha himself, so far from his den. And he brought a pretty little snack.”

Garrick didn’t respond. He shifted his weight, a subtle movement that coiled his body like a spring.

“Harker sends his regards,” the scout said, and he lunged.

What happened next was a blur of brutal efficiency. Garrick didn’t try to fight them in his human form. There was a sound like tearing fabric and cracking bone. The air shimmered around him, and then he was just… more. Larger. A massive, midnight-black wolf stood where the man had been. He was enormous, powerful, his shoulders level with my chest, his eyes burning with the same fierce blue intelligence.

The lead scout faltered, his bravado evaporating in the face of the fully shifted Alpha.

Garrick moved. It wasn’t a run; it was an explosion of motion. He met the first scout’s lunge head-on, his powerful jaws closing around the man’s arm. The sound of snapping bone was sickeningly clear. He threw the man aside like a ragdoll, his body crashing into a tree with a dull thud.

The other four attacked at once. Garrick was a whirlwind of teeth and fury. He moved with a grace that was terrifying, a dance of death. He ducked under a swipe of claws and ripped out the throat of another scout with a single, savage shake of his head. Blood sprayed, hot and metallic, across the forest floor.

I stood frozen, my back against the cliff face, unable to look away. It was the most horrifying and the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. This was his true nature. This was the raw, untamed power that lay beneath the controlled exterior. This was the beast who had claimed me.

One of the scouts, seeing his companions fall, turned his wild eyes on me. He saw an easier target. He broke from the fight and charged.

I had no weapon. No time to react. I braced for the impact.

It never came.

A black blur intercepted the scout mid-leap. Garrick slammed into him, a force of pure rage. He didn’t just kill him. He obliterated him. The sounds that followed were primal, visceral, the sounds of a predator ensuring its prey would never rise again.

Then, there was silence. The only thing moving was Garrick. He stood over the bodies, his massive chest heaving, his dark fur matted with the blood of his enemies. The scent of iron and death filled the air.

Slowly, he turned. His blue eyes, still glowing with feral light, locked on to me. He took a step, then another, his powerful body moving with a predator’s grace. He didn’t stop until he was right in front of me. The heat coming off him was immense. The scent of his fight, of his sweat and his blood, was an intoxicating, dangerous perfume.

He was terrifying. He was magnificent.

I should have been afraid. But all I felt was a wild, desperate surge of want.

He nudged my hand with his massive head, a gesture that was both a question and a claim. His muzzle was wet with blood. I didn’t flinch. I lifted my trembling hand and placed it on the thick fur of his neck. I could feel the powerful pulse of his lifeblood beneath my palm, the solid, unyielding strength of him.

A low rumble started in his chest, a purr that vibrated through my entire body. It was a sound of possession, of satisfaction.

He shifted then. The process was faster this time, the air shimmering, his form collapsing and reforming in the space of a heartbeat. He stood before me as a man again, shirtless, his skin sheened with sweat and smeared with blood. His breathing was still ragged, his eyes still blazing with the aftermath of the fight and something else, something hotter.

He didn’t say a word. He cupped the back of my head with one hand, his other arm wrapping around my waist, and he pulled me into him. His mouth crashed down on mine.

It was not a gentle kiss, It was all the pent-up tension, the suppressed lust, the fear and the adrenaline, exploding at once. His lips were hard and demanding, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with a ferocity that stole my breath. I kissed him back with equal fervor, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. I could taste the salt of his sweat and the faint, metallic tang of blood. It should have been repulsive. It was the most erotic thing I had ever experienced.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against mine, his breath hot on my face. “You see?” he rasped, his voice raw. “This is what I am. This is the monster who wants you.”

I looked into his wild, beautiful eyes. “I’m not afraid of you.”

A dark, triumphant smile touched his lips. “Then you are a fool,” he whispered. “But you are my fool.”

He kissed me again, softer this time, but no less intense. It was a promise, it was the beginning. And as his arms tightened around me, I knew the line had been crossed. There was no going back.