008 | INTO THE MOUNTAINS

“Mine,” I whispered, staring up at him with wide eyes. My voice broke, emotion swelling through my body and sending shivers rolling across my skin. The colours in the room flared brighter, centring on the beautiful man stood across from me. 

His throat bobbed. The world remained quiet, hazy, as we began to move; I did not feel the movement of my muscles or the soles of my boots slapping against the stone floor. He was everything: the sun and the moon and the stars, the earth and the rivers and the sea. My body became nothing more than a means for my soul to meet his in that instant, with fingers yearning to touch and eyes tracing every perfect inch of him.

We froze a foot apart. I swallowed hard, my lips parting as I looked up at him. He towered over me, but not in a way that made me feel intimidated. It made me feel safe. Somewhere deep down I knew that feeling was ridiculous, that there was some reason this man, my mate, couldn’t be trusted, but in that moment there was only the overwhelming desire to go to him and never leave his side again.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his blue eyes glassy with unshed tears. Above, his brows were pinched, like he too had reservations that had been forgotten the moment he’d seen me. 

Then he closed the last of the distance between us and swept me into his arms. My heart thumped, straining to press against his, longing to be knotted together forevermore. I grasped the back of his cloak, gripping it, but it wasn’t enough, I needed to feel his skin on mine –

I groaned, tilting my head up to press my lips to his. He was warm, all heat and life amongst the frigid, frozen landscape he called home. His stubble scraped my cold cheeks, the sting of it pleasant as his full lips found mine. He smelt of cedar and woodsmoke and tasted of sweet berry wine. I was a writhing, desperate mess beneath his hands; I panted into his open mouth, wanting more, needing more. I slipped my hands beneath the back of his shirt, palming the hard lines of his muscles and digging my nails in. He moaned into my mouth, the gravel-and-honey of his voice sending tingles shooting down my spine.

Worlds could have born and died in our short eternity. I lost myself to him, unaware of the room and people that I had once known surrounded us. Eventually, reluctantly, we parted. He stared down at me, his gaze open, his eyes slightly unfocused and sparkling with the flush of our kiss. “Beautiful,” he said again, his voice catching. I barely repressed the shudder that sent through me, my body boneless and pliant with desire.

His eyebrows drew together in a frown. His eyes hardened, raking down my body and taking in my torn dress and the cuts to my cheek and throat. His grip on my waist tightened, hard enough to bruise. “You’re hurt,” he growled, sounding pained at the thought of it. “Who did this to you?” 

I blinked. Slowly, the banquet hall came into focus behind him. Coloured light splintered across the wooden tables, drawing lines along the room that led my gaze to the man responsible for my wounds. I couldn’t feel the cuts anymore; there was only him, my mate, who was bristling with rage at the sight of the blood on my neck and my ripped gown.

I panicked. The truth of my situation hit me like a fist to the gut. I was here to make peace, to keep my head down and hope my presence in Winterpaw was enough to keep them from fighting Blue Moon. I couldn’t put the blame on Nazte, even though it had been his hands that wielded the blade.

My mate’s gaze sliced through the room and landed on the knife I’d slammed down in front of Nazte, and my decision was made for me. His hands loosened on my waist; before I could react he leapt over the table and punched Nazte square on the jaw, on top of the bruise I’d left there.

I stumbled backwards. There was complete silence in the room, broken only by the smacks of knuckles into flesh. The Gamma, Cendres, pulled me aside with a huff of amusement.

“You think this is funny?” I hissed, gaping at the two men pummelling each other across the dining hall. Nobody fought like this in Blue Moon.

I turned to Cendres to see him shrug. “Naz brought it on himself. He knew what would happen when he saw you. For the record,” he added, holding his hands up, “I had no part in it.”

My heart thundered in my chest. “Will he be okay?” I whispered, unable to tear my gaze from my mate’s body as Nazte caught him just below the eye. 

Cendres snorted at that. “Completely fine. Don’t let the mate bond addle your mind too much.”

I shook myself. My eyes snagged on the way his muscles bulged, straining against the confines of his white shirt and pressing the whorls of his tattoos against the fabric. I was practically salivating at the sight and found I couldn’t stop, even though I remembered every reason I had to hate the man I so desired.

Despite his easy words, Cendres tensed every time my mate landed a punch or kick on Nazte. I frowned at him, needing the distraction to keep from running into the fight and dragging them apart, but I could find no answers in his carefully constructed expression. His lips were tugged up into a small smirk, but his pale eyes were tight with an emotion I couldn’t place.

My mate caught Nazte by the throat and flung him back against the wall. His head hit it with a resounding crack, which echoed through the room and made bile thicken at the back of my mouth. My jaw dropped. Nobody else seemed fazed, save for Cendres who was trying to conceal his worry; behind us, the Winterpaw wolves had started picking at their dinner, which had apparently been served at some point during the brawl. 

I was the strongest fighter in the Blue Moon Pack, but I had the terrible, gnawing feeling that I’d walked into a battle I was entirely unprepared for here. It was not just the mountains that were cold and unforgiving; it was their inhabitants, too.

As my mate stood victorious, I also had the feeling that I was in way over my head. Because as he left Nazte bleeding on the ground, my heart lurched with need and my legs moved towards him without conscious thought.

I pressed my hands to his chest, aching to feel the steady beat of his heart to affirm that he was all right. I sighed, my relief sharp and heady at the feel of his hot skin beneath my palms.

“Were you worried about me?” he asked teasingly, trailing a finger up my forearm.

“I – no.”

He smirked down at me, sliding an arm around my waist and giving me a tug. “Come on. I’ll get an Omega to bring us a private dinner in my chambers.”

I folded my arms. Mate bond or not, I had a duty to perform. I dug my heels in and said, “I’m not hungry,” right as my stomach growled.

His smirk grew. “Sure you aren’t.” His arm tightened, but he turned us to face the long tables. His expression hardened as he stared out at the rest of the pack, a muscle feathering in his jaw. “If anyone hurts Haile,” he said, raising his voice, “they shall face a fate much worse than Nazte’s. Understood?”

Everyone nodded, though nobody seemed to dare speak.

I took my chance. “I must speak with the Alpha first,” I said in a low voice, worry tying my insides in knots. “He has given me a home here and brokered peace between our people. I must thank him.”

I had to deal with Alpha Ares, make a half-decent first impression, and then hopefully I could avoid him and spend my time in Winterpaw with my mate. His cruel reputation made my blood run cold, but I had to do this now. The longer I put it off the worse the anticipation would become, and I had to be polite. For the peace between our packs, I needed to greet Alpha Ares and thank him for his hospitality. 

Even if his idea of hospitality was a tiny windowless room and fist fights over dinner, I thought.

His smirk bloomed into a full-blown grin. “How convenient,” he drawled. 

Behind me, Cendres snickered. He was crouched over Nazte, hauling him up and running his hands over his body. 

“Why?” I asked, though I thought I already knew. Dread settled in my stomach.

“I am Alpha Ares,” he said, smugness rolling off him in waves. “So you can thank me all you want in my room.”