~ Killian
The sacred grove's shadows cling to me as I trail Selene back to the Blackthorn stronghold, her scent—ash and wildflowers, laced with something hauntingly familiar—burning in my lungs. My wolf, Raze, is a wildfire, howling 'Mine' with every step she takes. Touching her arm in the grove was a mistake; the mate bond sparked a jolt that seared through me, waking up something I buried when I rejected Lyra three years ago. My scarred brow throbs, guilt and suspicion warring in my chest. Selene's no ordinary rogue. Her knowledge, her defiance, the way her silver eyes flickered in the dark—they're unravelling me, and I can't afford to lose control.
The stronghold's stone walls loom ahead, torchlight casting jagged shadows across the cedars. I should drag her to the cells, demand answers for sneaking out, but my wolf rebels at the thought. She's hiding something, that much is clear, but the bond—impossible, irrational—pulls me to protect her, not destroy her. I clench my fists, the memory of Lyra's hazel eyes, her broken sobs, anchoring me. I sent her to die in the Frostfang Mountains, choosing Mara to strengthen the pack against Bloodclaw. Selene can't be her. But why does her scent feel like Lyra's ghost?
Inside the longhouse, the air is thick with tension—warriors sharpening blades, elders murmuring about the latest rune found at the border. That violet-glowing mark, reeking of forbidden magic, hints at something darker than Bloodclaw's raids. Varkis, the rogue sorcerer of pack legends, feels less like a myth every day. My wolf paces, restless, as I spot Selene slipping into the infirmary, her cloak still dusted with grove dirt. I follow, my boots heavy on the stone floor, driven by a need I can't name.
The infirmary smells of herbs and blood, lanterns casting a warm glow over the cots. Selene is tending a warrior, her dark hair falling over her scarred cheek as she applies a salve. Her hands move with precision, but there's a grace to it, like she's weaving something beyond herbs. My wolf surges, gold flooding my vision, and I grip the doorframe to steady myself. She's dangerous—not just to the pack, but to me.
"Selene," I say, my voice a low growl that echoes in the quiet room. She startles, her silver eyes meeting mine, and the mate bond flares again, a fire in my veins. "We need to talk. Now."
She sets the salve down, her expression calm but her hands trembling slightly. "Alpha," she says, her voice steady,
"I'm working. Your warriors need me." Her defiance is a blade, sharp and unyielding, and my wolf wants to answer it, to close the distance and claim her.
I step closer, my entire frame towering over her. "You were in the sacred grove," I say, keeping my voice low, for her ears only. "No rogue knows that place. No healer sneaks out at night. Who are you, really?" My wolf snarls, sensing the truth she's hiding, and the bond burns, urging me to touch her again. I resist, barely.
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't flinch. "I told you, I'm a healer. I needed herbs from the grove. Nothing more." The lie is smooth, but her scent—ash and wildflowers, with that faint, familiar undercurrent—betrays her. My wolf howls, desperate to rip through her façade, to find the truth.
"You're lying," I say, stepping closer, close enough to feel the heat of her.
"My wolf knows it. You know too much, move too easily in my pack. Tell me the truth, Selene, or I'll drag it out of you." My voice is rough, laced with the bond's fire, and her eyes flicker, a flash of silver I can't explain.
Before she can answer, Mara storms in, her golden hair blazing in the lantern light, her blue eyes venomous. "Witchcraft," she hisses, pointing at Selene. "I saw her in the grove, Killian. Her eyes glowed—unnatural, forbidden. She's no healer, she's a sorceress, maybe even tied to those runes at the border." Her words are a whip, striking at the pack's fears, and the warriors in the room shift, their murmurs growing.
My wolf snarls, protective, but Mara's accusation lands hard. The runes, the violet glow, the whispers of Varkis—they're too close to Selene's arrival. "Is it true?" I demand, my gaze locked on Selene. "Were you using magic in the grove?"
Her lips part, and for a moment, I see panic in her eyes, quickly masked. "No magic," she says, her voice firm. "I was gathering herbs, like I said. Mara's seeing things that aren't there." She holds my gaze, defiant, but her hands clench, betraying her calm.
Mara steps forward, her jasmine scent cloying. "Liar," she snaps. "I know what I saw. You're a threat, Selene, and I'll prove it." Her eyes flick to me, expectant, but my wolf rebels, refusing to condemn Selene without proof. The bond burns, clouding my judgment, and I hate it.
"Enough," I said, my voice cutting through the room. "Mara, you've made your point. Selene, you're confined to the infirmary until we sort this out. One more slip, and you're in the cells." My wolf protests, but I force it down, the weight of the pack's safety overriding the bond's pull.
Selene nods, her expression unreadable, but her silver eyes hold a challenge. "Understood, Alpha." She turns back to the warrior, dismissing me, and my wolf growls, torn between suspicion and desire.
I left the infirmary, Mara trailing me, her voice low and urgent. "You're making a mistake, Killian. She's dangerous, like Lyra was. You can't let her weaken you again." The mention of Lyra is a knife, twisting in my gut. I rejected my fated mate for the pack, for Mara, and the guilt is a scar deeper than the one on my brow. I don't answer, striding to the war room to clear my head.
But before I reached it, Darius burst through the door, his amber eyes wide with alarm. "Alpha, a scout, just reported in," he says, his voice grim.
"Bloodclaw wolves were spotted near the eastern border, moving under cover of mist. They're closer than ever."
My wolf snaps to attention, the bond's fire drowned by the threat. Bloodclaw's boldness, the runes, the traitor—everything points to a larger plan, maybe tied to the sorcerer Varkis. And Selene, with her secrets and her scent, is at the centre of it. My heart pounds, guilt and suspicion colliding. I need answers, and I'll get them, even if it means breaking her.