Chapter 2

That night, the strained fated mate bond sent me to the pack clinic.

“Alora, the bond-strain is making your wolf frantic. Your muscles are so tense I can’t even get the needle in. Try to relax.”

As the nurse tried for the third time to inject the heavy wolfsbane sedative, I squeezed my eyes shut.

In the darkness, I felt a hand cover them.

Seventeen years old. My first shift. My wolf tearing me apart from the inside, the pain so bad I bit through my lip.

Jaxon covered my eyes from behind, his palm scorching hot.

“Don’t look,” he’d said. “I’m here.”

He held me all night, his warmth pulling me back from the edge, inch by inch.

“All done,” the nurse said, patting my hand.

I opened my eyes.

And he was there. Jaxon. Standing at the end of the hall.

Black shirt, shoulders tense, his face a thundercloud. He was staring at the arm they’d just injected.

My heart skipped.

Five years, and I was still this pathetic. He felt my pain through the bond. He’d left his meeting and come for me.

“Jaxon, I’m a little cold.”

Clara peeked out from behind him. Her voice was a sickeningly sweet whimper.

Jaxon’s eyes had been locked on my pale face. At her voice, he frowned. But he still pulled off his jacket. He wrapped it around her, tucking it in at her collar.

That jacket was drenched in his scent. The most intimate way a wolf marks what’s his.

I watched them. A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

Of course. I was the warrior who clawed her way through the Northern ice and snow. But Clara, the weak orphan, would die from a gust of wind. He loved me, but he always thought I could take the pain. Clara couldn’t.

The Jaxon from my memories was long dead.

“Bond-sickness again?” He finally walked over, looking down at me. There was hidden pain in his eyes, but his voice was hard enough to cut glass. “Two years, Alora, and you’re still pulling the same tricks.”

“What tricks?”

“Playing sick,” he said, his tone light. “You used to do this when you wanted me to stay the night.”

The clinic was warm. His scent—cedar and musk—drifted over.

It used to make me weak. Now it just made me want to puke.

“You’re imagining things,” I said. “I’m waiting for the sedative to finish.”

“Alora.” Clara peeked out from his jacket. “Don’t be mad… We were just here for a follow-up. My wolf was injured in the last hunt. Jaxon was worried.”

“Right,” I said, not looking up.

The IV bag emptied. The nurse pulled the needle.

I stood to get dressed. My old, army-green jacket was draped over the chair. Jaxon had left it at my place two years ago. It was thick and warm. I’d worn it through the rain tonight.

I had just slid one arm into the sleeve.

“Alora.” Jaxon suddenly reached out. His hand gently stopped me.

I looked up.

He stood in front of me, frowning, and spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Give this to Clara. Her wolf is injured, she can’t get cold again. You’re a Northern warrior. You’re tougher than her.”

“I’m wearing this.”

“Alora,” his voice dropped. “Don’t be petty. Clara’s an orphan. Her wolf is weak. If I don’t take care of her, she won’t survive.”

“And why should I—?”

Before I could finish, he gently pulled the jacket from my hand. It wasn't rough, just the undeniable force of an Alpha.

He turned, draped the jacket over Clara’s shoulders, and guided her out into the rain with one arm around her back.

I’d watched that back for five years. It was just never protecting me.

Two years ago, my mother was attacked by three rogue wolves. Her shoulder was torn open. Silver toxicity burned through her veins.

She lay in the North’s critical ward for seven days.

In those seven days, I made fifty emergency calls to him.

The first forty-nine went unanswered.

The fiftieth was picked up.

It was Clara’s voice. “The Alpha is in a meeting for his Council seat. The Elders are all here. He can’t be disturbed. Can you call back later?”

Then his voice, cold and distant. “Alora, stop it. Learn to be independent. Don’t be so needy at a time like this.”

The line went dead.

A year before that, the exchange spot for the Warrior Academy. The Elders’ vote was a five-to-five tie.

The last vote was Jaxon’s.

He gave it to Clara.

I walked out of the clinic. The rain was still coming down.

Headlights flashed. A black sports car reversed back to the steps. The passenger window rolled down.

“Get in,” Jaxon said.

“Where’s Clara?”

“I took her home.” His fingers tapped the steering wheel. “Alora, you’ve been nothing but thorns since tonight. Are you still bitter about the academy spot?”

I didn’t answer.

“She’s an orphan,” his tone was flat. “She needed that spot to survive. I need her family's backing for the Council election. It's politics, Alora. You’re strong. You have me. You don’t need charity.”

“I have you,” I repeated his words back to him. “Isn’t that enough?”

Rain dripped from my chin.

“Jaxon,” I looked at him. “I never asked you to play favorites. I just wanted my mate on my side. Just once. When the whole pack was tearing me apart.”

“Just once,” I whispered. “Once in five years.”

He laughed.

“You put too much damn stock in this mate bond,” he said. “The Moon Goddess tied a knot in our souls, Alora. It’s not a leash. You were born to love me. It’s your instinct. It’s not a debt I owe you. Once I secure my Alpha Council seat, once I have the Elders in my pocket, I will give you the Luna title. You just need to be patient now.”

Standing there in the rain, it all finally clicked.

“Right,” I said. “So for five years, I loved you with everything I had—”

“—and to you, I was just a burden.”