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Chapter 29 - Running
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2025-08-01 16:00:17Eli
I crouch in the shadows by the supply shed, heartbeat too loud in my ears. Frost bites through the thin soles of my boots. My makeshift satchel, a square of stolen canvas patched with leather, rests against my thigh, weighed down with the few things I’ve hoarded.
Patrol lights sweep the far side of camp. I wait, breath held, until the beams drift away, until I hear the low murmur of bored wolves and the crunch of boots fading toward the western path.
It’s just after midnight. Patrols are thinner now, the gaps between watch points wide enough to slip through if you’re desperate… or crazy.
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EliThe world has gone very quiet inside my skull. Snow hisses somewhere to my left where a fire arrow is eating an old fir. Somebody cries out. A blade clatters. None of it matters.All I can hear is the absence where his breathing should be.“Come back,” I whisper, and it scrapes my throat raw. “You can’t leave me, Ronan. You’re too stubborn to die.”Nothing.The bond is a frayed wire under my ribs, sparking once, then going dark. I press harder on the hole in his chest, as if I can bully his heart into remembering its job. Hot blood pushes between my fingers anyway, slicking my wrists, spreading through the lines of my palms until they’re a map of him. My hands shake so hard I have to lock my elbows to keep pressure where it matters.He looks wrong. Too pale around the mouth. Too still in the shoulders. Ronan always seems to be in motion, even when he’s resting. I’m desperately searching for the faint twitch at his jaw that broadcasts he’s about to start a fight, the way his fing
Marked by the Alpha: Blood Oath Chapter 102 – The Line Between
EliThe cabin feels too small.I pace a trench into the floorboards, back and forth, hands flexing like they want a knife to grip. Every corner stinks of rut by now. Sweat, sex, fur, the raw animal press of days spent being claimed. My wolf thrums in it, restless, prowling just under my skin. His, his his. But the man in me wants to throw something.“Arrogant bastard,” I mutter. “Godsdamned domineering, self-righteous, thinks-he-knows-best-” My boot hits the wall. The impact rattles down the log. I don’t stop pacing.He told me to stay. Stay, like I was some fragile thing he couldn’t afford to put near sharp edges. Stay, like I wasn’t capable. Stay, like last time hadn’t proved him right.That’s the worst part. He wasn’t lying.Redmaw had dragged me off like a trophy. Ronan had carved half a warpath to get me back. And the rut…My throat closes. He said it like it was a failure. Like I had triggered something shameful, something dangerous. But this past week, being wrecked, used, wo
Marked by the Alpha: Blood Oath Chapter 101 – The First Cut
RonanThe woods taste of iron.The wind is sharp, pine biting the back of my throat, and under it the chemical tang of Redmaw’s barrels. They want to sour the bond, make us fight half-blind. My wolf shoves at my ribs anyway, teeth bare, claws eager. It wants blood, and it wants Eli. One of those I can give it.Jace moves like he’s an extension of the map we left behind. Sure of every gap and hollow, every trench dug and stake planted. He signals once, two fingers low, and the line flexes with it. Bows raised. Blades loose. We are a throat waiting to close.Draven Holt makes sure I see him. He stands atop a ridge of snow, broad-shouldered, dark hair bound with a leather cord, eyes like coals banked deep. Red paint slashes his cheekbones. He’s younger than Varek, hungrier, the kind of man who thinks rage alone can make him king. He lifts his arms like a priest.“Blackthorn!” His voice carries like a crack in the sky. “You took our Alpha. You stole our prize. Tonight we take back what
Marked by the Alpha: Blood Oath Chapter 99 – Ash and Sandpaper
RonanThe inside the cabin smells like home. It smells like us.The rut still clings to our skin, ground into sweat and bruises, thick in the seams of our clothes. It smelled strong enough in the open air. Shut inside four log walls, it blooms heavy, suffocating, thick as smoke. My wolf stretches in it, pleased, possessive. Mine, mine, mine. But the man in me knows the timing is a disaster. Any Blackthorn wolf with a nose will catch one whiff and know exactly what I’ve been doing instead of leading them.Nobody would begrudge an Alpha his rut, but the timing was fucking awful.Eli, naturally, makes it worse. He peels off his jacket, tosses it on the hook like he’s strolling in after a hunt, then wrinkles his nose. “Gods, we reek.” He eyes the washroom door, “Think I’ve got time for a quick shower before battle?”“No,” I say.He turns back, brows up. “Not even two minutes? I’ll be fast. Cold stream water didn’t exactly do the same as warm water and soap.”I know he’s not going to lik
Marked by the Alpha: Blood Oath Chapter 99 – Teeth on the Line
JaceRonan’s rut should have burned out after three days. Five, at the ugly edge. We are past the edge and walking on the underside now.Maps cover the table in the command room like skins. Border marks, choke points, old poacher trails, new Redmaw tracks burned in with charcoal. I’ve redrawn the same black spruce notch three times, and the paper still insists Redmaw is gathering there like flies on meat.Mara leans against the doorframe, arms folded, gaze knife-sharp. “You keep staring at the same line like it’s going to move for you.”“If it were polite,” I say, “It would.”“How long has it been now?”“Since the bond went quiet and we pulled Eli out?” I don’t need to check. It’s welded into the back of my eyes. “Eight days.”Mara doesn’t flinch, but her jaw ticks. Rut is supposed to be a storm. Violent, brief, gone. Ronan seems to have turned it into a season.“We need him on the field,” she says, and it’s not a complaint, it’s arithmetic. He’s ridiculously strong and the warriors w
Marked by the Alpha: Blood Oath Chapter 98 – Burned Into Bone
RonanIt takes three tries to sit up.Not because I’m injured, though everything from my hips to my ribs feels like it’s been through a war, but because my legs refuse to believe it’s over.The rut broke sometime during the night. Not with a roar, but with a sigh. One last knot buried deep, one last growl against Eli’s throat as he shivered and clenched around me like he never wanted it to end.And maybe I didn’t either.Eli is curled beside me, bare and bruised and smug as sin. He smells like sex and sleep and satisfaction. Like me. Like mine.I study the curve of his back, the bite marks along his shoulder, the way his fingers twitch in dreams. He should look wrecked. He does. But not broken. Not even close. He’s humming with some secret victory that makes something primal in me bare its throat and grin.He took everything I gave him. Every rough thrust, every growled command, every knot, and gave back more.He survived me. No, he did much more than that. He handled me and kept begg
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