INICIAR SESIÓNThe fire had burned low by the time Cole approached Natasha again.Three days she'd been his captive, and still she hadn't broken.Not really.Oh, she'd screamed when the lieutenant's knife had carved thin lines across her ribs, and she'd gasped when they'd wrenched her wounded shoulder during the march. But her eyes, those green eyes that reminded him painfully of forest canopies in spring, remained hard and calculating.She was playing him.He knew it.And somehow, that made her more fascinating."You're watching her again."The lieutenant's ruined voice scraped against his ears like gravel. She moved to stand beside him, her thin frame casting a sharp shadow in the firelight."She's nothing special. Just another bitch who needs to learn her place."Cole didn't bother looking at his lieutenant."If she were nothing special, Damien would have surrendered by now."The lieutenant's hand twitched toward her knife, a nervous habit she'd developed since Natasha's arrival."He hasn't surre
The council chamber doors slammed open with enough force to rattle the ancient stone walls.Every eye turned toward Damien.Marcus and Gideon rose from their seats. Seraphine's hands froze mid-gesture over a sprawling map. The elder advisors drew back in their chairs like wolves sensing an approaching storm.He didn't care."How long?" His voice came out rough, scraped raw from hours of pacing and planning and failing to think past the burning in his chest. "How long are we going to sit here discussing strategy while she's...""Damien."Seraphine's voice cut through his rage like cool water on an open flame.She remained seated, her pale eyes steady despite the tension radiating from every line of his body."Sit down. Please.""I don't want to sit down." He gripped the edge of the heavy oak table, his knuckles white, his claws threatening to break through human skin. "I want to know why we haven't mobilized. Why we haven't torn apart every inch of forest between here and Cole's camp.
The fever broke sometime before dawn, leaving Natasha shivering and weak against the frozen ground. She lay still, forcing her breathing to remain shallow and uneven, letting her body slump against the ropes that bound her wrists. Every few minutes, she let a soft whimper escape her lips, just enough to sell the performance without appearing theatrical.Across the clearing, the lieutenant watched.Natasha could feel those predatory eyes on her, tracking every twitch and tremor with the focus of a wolf scenting blood. The thin-faced woman had taken position near the fire hours ago, her ruined voice occasionally breaking the silence with sharp commands to the other rogues, but her attention never strayed far from Natasha’s bound form. There was something hungry in that gaze, not the dark fascination Cole wore like a second skin, but something sharper. More dangerous.Jealousy.The realization settled into Natasha’s bones along with the cold. The lieutenant was not just watching her beca
The fire had burned low by the time footsteps approached Natasha’s position again. She had been drifting in and out of fevered consciousness, her body locked in a war it was slowly losing, when the crunch of frozen leaves brought her snapping back to awareness. Two figures emerged from the darkness, Cole with his storm cloud eyes and predator’s grace, and a woman Natasha had not seen before.She was older, with gnarled hands stained dark from years of working with herbs and salves. A healer, or something close to it. The leather satchel slung across her bony shoulder smelled of bitter roots and something chemical that made Natasha’s stomach lurch with instinctive dread.“She’s burning up,” the healer said, her voice flat and disinterested, as if discussing livestock. “The wound’s gone septic. Another day, maybe two, and she won’t be good for anything except the crows.”Cole stopped a few feet away, his gaze fixed on Natasha with that unsettling intensity she was beginning to recognize.
The lieutenant's gaze didn't waver.She sat apart from the fire now, positioned on a fallen log that gave her a clear line of sight to Natasha's bound form. Her ruined voice was silent, but her eyes spoke volumes.She knew something had shifted.Could sense it the way predators sensed fear. Instinctively. Viscerally. With a certainty that bypassed logic entirely.Natasha kept her breathing shallow and even, fighting against the fever that threatened to drag her under.The cold was a blessing now, a counterpoint to the fire burning through her blood, and she focused on the bite of frost against her exposed skin to anchor herself in the present.Her shoulder had gone beyond pain into something else entirely. A deep, sick pulsing that seemed to echo through her entire body, making her bones ache and her teeth throb.The infection was spreading.She could feel it creeping toward her heart with each labored beat.But she couldn't let it show.Not with the lieutenant watching.Not with Cole
The fever crept through her like a slow tide, imperceptible at first, then impossible to ignore.Natasha felt it building in the hollow of her shoulder where the wound festered, a deep, sick heat that radiated outward in pulsing waves, at odds with the bitter cold that numbed her extremities. Sweat slicked her palms and the back of her neck despite the freezing air, and her thoughts kept slipping sideways, sliding into fog before she could drag them back into focus.The infection was worse than she'd estimated.Much worse.She kept her breathing even, her eyes half-lidded. The scarred man was still watching. He never stopped watching. Any sign of weakness would bring the lieutenant back with her sharp nails and sharper questions.But the fever was making her sloppy, slowing her reactions, and she couldn't afford sloppy. Not now. Not with the knot on her left wrist finally beginning to yield, the rope fibers scraping wetly against the raw meat of her hand.A wave of dizziness washed th
Damien’s wolf had been clawing at his ribs for hours, a relentless, snarling pressure that made every polite smile a lie. The moment he’d walked into the ballroom and caught Natasha’s scent—wildflowers and steel—the beast inside him had lunged against its chains. Mate. The word was a drumbeat in hi
The ballroom no longer felt like a celebration.It felt like observation.Natasha moved through it with controlled precision, each step measured, each expression carefully restrained. The emerald gown made her feel exposed in ways armor never had, not because it was revealing, but because it was des
The carriage stopped beneath the grand estate of the Alpha King, and Natasha immediately understood why warriors preferred battlefields over silk diplomacy.Because battlefields at least made sense.The emerald gown her sister had forced onto her clung like a second skin, elegant in a way that felt
"You're twenty-two and still unmated."The words followed Natasha across the training grounds like an unwanted shadow.She ignored them.With a sharp twist, she caught her brother's wrist and used his momentum against him. Kael hit the dirt hard enough to shake the ground beneath them.A chorus of w







