Chapter 4

VIKTOR’S POV

The city of thieves was just as the name implied.

Perhaps even worse. It was a pit of soot and sin, a bustling maze of misery and crime.

Tonight, the rain attempted to wash it clean, but failed woefully.

I walked the cobblestone streets near the docks, the collar of my greatcoat turned up against the bitter bite of the wind.

The humans walked pass me, huddled under their umbrellas, some of them oblivious to the predator walking among them, while others threw panicked glances at me before hurrying across the other side of the street.

I didn't care much for either reactions, most of them had seen worse than me. Their people were often hunted by the vampires who lived beyond the great hills.

I was simply tired. Three years of wandering had turned my blood sour, and my heart to stone.

I had no pack , no family and no mate. Just the burning memory of the only love I'd ever known.

Zoya, my Zoya.

A familiar knot of sorrow and guilt formed in my chest, even though three years had passed since I took the life of my mate.

My heart faltered at the thought, but I kept it all inside, never letting the misery show on my face.

I was crossing the Serpent bridge, the river churning like a black, hungry wolf below.

That was when the scent hit me.

No, it wasn't the usual stench of coal smoke or river rot.

It was lilies and winter air, laced with the sharp, metallic tang of absolute, soul-crushing grief. I recognised the grief, because it had onde clung to me, no matter how much I washed.

I looked up and my heart dropped as I saw her.

She was standing on the stone balustrade, her dark hair plastered to her face by the driving rain.

Her gown be was beyond tattered, exposing far too much for comfort in the cold weather.

She is going to jump, I thought.

I realized this with a jolt of panic.

The woman looked like a broken angel dragged through the city's mud as she stared down at the black water.

She sniffled loudly, and my eyes widened as she suddenly raised and swung her leg over the bridge's rail.

She was going to jump.

Without thinking about what I was doing, I moved with the speed of a Beta who had once commanded an army.

Just as her knees buckled and she leaned into the void, I reached out.

My hand clamped around her waist, my fingers sinking into the sodden silk of her bodice.

“No!” She yelled as I hauled her back onto the solid stone of the bridge with more force than o could control in my panic.

“What have you done?!” She screamed, pounding her fists against me, everywhere.

“The river is no cure for a broken heart, dear,” I rasped, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

“No!” She cried out again.

“Yes,” I replied. “It is merely a cold, lonely place to die.”

Her fists paused, and she looked up at me then.

My heart stopped. Then lurched painfully against my chest.

Her eyes were a deep, haunted hazel, rimmed with the angry red of a thousand tear drops. Her face was stained in streaks of mud, her hair clung to her scalp and face, and her dress was even more torn than I initially thought.

The bodice gaped like it had been roughly pulled at, and her chemise was soaked by the rain, exposing the pink duskiness of her taut nipples.

I blinked, slapping myself inwardly as I focused on her face.

But even that didn't help the suddenly painful thuds of my heart, and the tightness of my throat.

I couldn't breathe, because right then, something impossible happened.

My wolf, who had been quiet since the day Zoya died in my arms, let out a low rumble of curiosity as the scent of this woman filled my senses.

“Who are you?” she whispered, her teeth chattering so hard I could hear them clicking. “Why are you interfering with my destiny, Mi'lord?”

“I am no lord,” I replied. “And If this was truly your destiny, I wouldn't be able to interfere with it.”

Tightening my grip on her arm, I steadied her. “I am simply a man who knows what it is to be cast into the dark. Why does a daughter of the moon seek the embrace of the river?”

She sniffled, her breath coming out shaky.

“I have nothing left,”  she sobbed, her voice a mere ghost of a sound.

“My mate...he rejected me. At the altar. Before everyone. My parents say I'm a symbol of shame and…they asked me to leave or stay and become a servant.” She shrugged, blinking her large, teary eyes at me.

“Forgive me for sounding vain but I could not take the other option, I could not bear the fact that my parents have turned their backs on me.”

“Who was it?”

“Huh?” She sniffled, her nostrils flaring slightly.

“What is the name of the monster who caused you this pain?”

“Why do you want to know?”

I shrugged, and unable to help myself, I reached out and wiped the tears streaming down her face.

“I just want you to keep talking so your mind doesn't go back to thinking about hurting yourself.”

Her eyes flared a bit, and the pink tip of her tongue darted over her full bottom lip.

“It was Titan.”

My brow furrowed as ice flooded into my veins.

Titan.

The name tasted like ash in my mouth.

“Titan of Wilder pack?” I asked calmly, restraining my anger so as not to scare her.

She nodded, a fresh sob breaking through her composure.

“The bastard was still ruining the joy of others, I see.”

“He chose another because I'm apparently not worthy of his love,” she swiped the back of her arm under her nose and sniffled.

I looked at her, really looked at her, because even in the darkness I could still see her like it was daylight.

“I think you're worthy of everything you desire, Mi’lady,” I heard myself murmur, without thinking. It was as though my mouth had just spoken the words without first consulting my brain.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, then whispered, “ thank you.

“Titan is a fool who wouldn't know the value of a wishing  star if it fell into his lap,”  I added as I stripped off my heavy wool coat and wrapped it around her, the garment dwarfing her small frame.

“Well you don't know me, I could be an evil witch. How do you know,” she hiccuped, “...that I'm a wishing star?”

A smile tugged at my lips, because I knew she'd meant the question to be a tease. The woman had just tried to jump into a cold river and still had the mind to be silly.

“I think the passions of any woman willing to die in the name of love is too great to not be a gift,” I adjusted the lapels of my coat on her neck, “but like all gifts, you must becareful not to misuse it.”

She swallowed again, leaning into me…and probably not realising that she did.

She smelled like the forest and the rain, wrapped in warm honey.

The combination was like a wake-up call to the protective instinct that had died inside me three years ago.

“You will not die tonight, Milady. Not for the sake of a man like him.”

She hiccuped again, her eyes boring into mine. “What are you going to do with me?”

I narrowed my eyes, noting the insistent hammering of my heart and the terrifying weight of confusion settling in the pit of my stomach.

“For the life of me, I have no idea.”