Chapter Fifteen: Imprint Of The Wolf

The transition was a violent, wet sound of shifting bone. Within seconds, the heavy weight of the wolf’s fur was gone, replaced by the slick, hot skin of a man.

I breathed a sigh of relief, but then held my breath when he looked up and smiled. A sudden flash of the night he claimed me came to mind. This wasn't Eilis, this was the Wolf.

He didn't move to get off me. Instead, he stayed pinned to my chest, his fingers digging into the dirt on either side of my head. He looked at me with a lazy, cruel satisfaction.

"The Prince is a fool," he rasped. "He thought he was protecting a delicate little thing. He almost let you freeze because he was too afraid to hunt you."

I tried to shove his shoulder, but it was like pushing against solid stone. "The hunt is over. Get off me." My body trembled, my mind refusing to see beyond the fear of that night.

He laughed, a dry, grating sound. He reached out, his thumb tracing the line of the claiming bite on my neck, pressing just hard enough to make the wound sting.

"It’s never over, my sweet," he whispered. "You think because we’re in the dirt and the Council is miles away, the rules have changed? I told you what happens to liars in this kingdom. I told you what I’d do with that pretty neck."

He leaned down, his face inches from mine. I could smell the iron and the forest on his breath.

"The Prince will wake up in a moment, he’ll be all guilty and apologies. He’ll think he 'saved' you tonight." The Wolf’s smirk widened, showing teeth. 

He gripped my chin, forcing me to look directly into those hollow golden eyes.

"But don't you ever forget who really claimed you. Every time you look at him, you're looking at me. Every time he touches you, remember that I’m the one holding the leash on your secret."

He bit my earlobe, it was a sharp, possessive nip that left a dull ache. A drop of tear left my eyes as I started to struggle to get free.

He watched me with a slow smile, before his body went limp.

Eilís’s features softened into a look of pure exhaustion. The swap was instant, Eilís groaned, his head dropping onto my shoulder as he slipped into a deep, unconscious sleep.

I lay there for a long time, staring up at the dark canopy of the trees as I tried to remember I was safe.

My ribs ached from the binders, and my dress was a ruined pile of velvet and mud. 

I had survived the hunt, but the Wolf had just reminded me that I was still a prisoner.

I pushed against Eilís’s weight, gasping as the movement sent a flare of pain through my back. He was dead weight, his skin cooling rapidly in the mountain air. 

With a groan, I managed to roll him off me. He sprawled on the frost-covered moss, naked and vulnerable. I looked at him, then at the wreckage of my gown. The silk was shredded, the bodice hanging by a few threads.

I scrambled to my feet, my knees nearly buckling. I needed to move. I needed to find the heavy fur cloak I’d ditched at the start of the chase.

I stumbled through the brush, my fingers numb as I fumbled with the remains of my skirts. I found the cloak tangled in a briar patch. I hauled it back to the clearing where Eilís lay.

I draped the heavy fur over him, tucking the edges around his shoulders. He didn't wake. He looked peaceful, his brow finally free of the tension that usually haunted him. 

I sat back on my heels, shivering violently. I pulled a small tin of lead-white powder from a hidden pocket in my underskirt—the one thing I hadn't lost. 

My fingers were shaking so badly I nearly dropped it. I used the condensation on a nearby leaf to dampen the powder, rubbing the cold paste over the areas where my makeup had smeared or rubbed off during the struggle.

I pinned the torn silk of my dress with a few sharp thorns, tucking the ripped edges under the fur cloak so they weren't immediately visible. I re-braided my hair, my fingers fumbling with the tangled strands until it looked somewhat respectable.

The sky began to turn bright, the first hint of dawn creeping over the jagged peaks of the Black Ridge.

Eilís stirred. He let out a low moan, his eyes flickering open. He sat up abruptly, the fur cloak sliding down his chest. He looked at me, then at his own hands, then at the clearing around us. "Raven?"

"I’m here," I said, my voice thin and high. I stayed a few feet away, clutching my own cloak around my shoulders.

He moved toward me, his expression twisting with horror. "Did I... did he hurt you?"

He reached out, his hand stopping inches from my face. He was looking at the bruise on my neck, the one the Wolf had just pressed his thumb into. He looked sick, his eyes filling with a self-loathing so deep it almost made me feel sorry for him, almost.

“He didn't hurt me.” I said. His expression turned somewhat relieved.

He looked up, his eyes searching mine. "I promised I wouldn't let him take over again. I promised I’d stay in control."

"It doesn't matter now," I said, standing up. My legs were like lead. "The sun is coming up, the search party will be here soon. We need to go."

He stood, wrapping the fur cloak tightly around his waist. "You're shivering."

I almost scoffed. Like I didn't know I was. "It's cold, Eilís," I said, turning away so he couldn't see the flash of anger in my eyes. "It's just the cold."

We started the walk back in silence. Eilís stayed close, his hand hovering near my elbow as if he expected me to collapse at any moment.

I hated his concern. It felt like a weight, a debt I didn't want to owe. Every time he reached out to steady me, I thought of those golden eyes and the way the Wolf had laughed at his "weakness."

As we rounded the final bend, the sounds of the court reached us—the baying of hounds, the shouting of guards, and the rhythmic thud of horses.

The search party was gathered at the edge of the woods. The King sat atop a massive black stallion, his iron crown glinting in the pale morning light. Beside him stood the Alphas of the Council, their faces grim and expectant.

I took a deep breath, smoothing the lead-white powder over my cheek one last time. I tilted my head back, exposing the claiming bite for the world to see.

I wasn't Raven Dierna, the boy from the South. I wasn't the victim of a feral beast. I was the Princess of Caravia, the mate of the Prince, and I was going to walk into that circle of wolves like I owned the ground they stood on.

The first guard saw us and let out a shout. The hounds went silent. The King turned his horse, his gaze settling on us with a cold, piercing intensity.

"Escort them," the King commanded, turning his horse back toward the castle. "Prepare the Prince for the ritual of cleansing. And take her highness to her chambers. I want her ready for the feast by sunset. She has proven to be one with the bond.”