"Keep up."
Alaric did not look back when he said it.
His horse surged forward, hooves pounding hard against the rocky path.
Zoraide tightened her grip on the reins and urged her horse after him.
"I am not slow," she snapped.
"You are falling behind."
"That is because you are riding like you are being chased by ghosts."
"Good," he replied. "The mountains like honesty."
The Obsidian Peaks loomed ahead, black stone cutting into the sky.
Cold wind whipped her hair loose from its tie.
She tasted iron and pine and the sharp bitterness of the herbs she had rubbed along her neck before mounting.
Still masked.
Still hidden.
Alaric slowed just enough to glance over his shoulder.
"You are breathing too evenly," he said.
She stiffened. "Is that an accusation now?"
"It is an observation."
Her horse stumbled slightly over loose stone.
She let it happen.
Let her body sway.
Let her shoulders hunch like a weaker Omega would.
Alaric watched too closely.
"You should ask for a slower pace," he said.
"I am fine."
His eyes flashed gold.
"Ask."
"No."
A corner of his mouth lifted.
He kicked his horse forward.
The scouts followed, spreading out along the narrow mountain trail.
Zoraide swallowed a curse and leaned into the climb.
Her muscles burned with unused restraint.
She could outrun this horse.
Could carry it if she wanted.
But she kept her strength buried deep.
Hidden.
Her horse snorted, foam gathering at its bit.
She patted its neck gently. "Easy. We will make it."
Alaric slowed again, riding alongside her now.
"You speak to your mount like it is fragile."
"It listens better than most Alphas."
One of the scouts snorted.
Alaric did not smile.
"You have sharp teeth for a healer."
"Perhaps I bite when threatened."
"You are always threatened."
He leaned closer as they rode.
His presence pressed against her skin, heavy and intimate.
The mate bond hummed, thick and electric.
"You reek of bitterroot," he said quietly. "It is offensive."
"It keeps wolves polite."
"It keeps them blind."
She met his gaze. "Is that what bothers you?"
"Yes."
He inhaled again, deliberately.
His brow furrowed.
"Underneath it," he muttered, "there is something else."
She shrugged. "Soap."
He laughed once, short and humorless.
"You think I do not know the difference."
They rode in silence for a few moments.
The path narrowed, stone walls rising on either side.
The air grew thinner.
Colder.
One scout called out, "Storm moving in from the east."
Alaric nodded. "We make the pass before nightfall."
Zoraide's horse faltered again.
This time Alaric reached out and grabbed the reins.
"Enough," he said. "You will kill the animal."
"I told you I am fine."
"You are lying."
She glared at him. "Let go."
He did not.
Instead, he slowed both their horses to a walk.
"You did not complain once," he said. "Not when the trail turned steep. Not when the wind cut. Not when your saddle slipped."
She lifted her chin. "I am used to discomfort."
"Omegas complain," he replied flatly.
Her fingers tightened.
"Stop calling me that."
"Why?"
His eyes flicked to her throat.
To the place where her pulse beat too steady.
"Because it is inaccurate."
His horse shifted beneath him as he turned fully toward her.
"What are you, then?"
"A healer."
He reached out suddenly and brushed his knuckles along her wrist.
Her skin sparked.
The bond flared.
She nearly reacted.
Nearly grabbed him.
Nearly showed him.
She forced herself to flinch back instead.
"Do not touch me," she said sharply.
His eyes darkened.
"You felt that."
"So did you."
A dangerous pause stretched between them.
The wind howled through the pass.
Alaric dropped his hand.
"You are hiding something," he said. "And you are bad at pretending you are not."
She exhaled slowly. "And you are bad at minding your business."
He smiled then.
Slow.
Predatory.
"You are my business."
He kicked his horse forward again.
Harder this time.
The pace increased.
Zoraide gritted her teeth and followed.
The trail twisted sharply, climbing higher.
Loose rocks skittered under hooves.
Her horse struggled.
She let it.
Let her breathing hitch.
Let her shoulders sag.
Alaric watched from ahead.
Waiting.
Testing.
One of the scouts called back, "She is going to fall behind."
"Good," Alaric replied.
Her eyes flashed.
She leaned forward and whispered low to her horse.
Not a command.
A promise.
The animal surged with renewed strength.
Not unnatural.
Just enough.
They caught up quickly.
Too quickly.
Alaric glanced back, suspicion sharpening his gaze.
"That was fast."
"Second wind."
He slowed again, forcing her to ride beside him.
"You could have asked to ride with one of my men."
"I would rather walk."
"You would not last."
She smiled thinly. "You would be surprised what I endure."
His scent shifted.
Interest.
Frustration.
Hunger.
The herbal mask wavered under it.
He inhaled sharply.
Then frowned.
"Still nothing," he muttered.
"What were you hoping to smell?"
"Truth."
They reached a narrow ledge overlooking a sheer drop.
The peaks stretched endlessly beyond.
Dark.
Imposing.
Beautiful in a brutal way.
Alaric reined in his horse.
The scouts halted behind them.
"We stop here," he said.
Zoraide slid stiffly from her saddle, letting her legs wobble.
Letting herself appear weak.
Alaric dismounted smoothly and watched her closely.
"You are shaking."
"It is cold."
He removed his cloak and draped it over her shoulders without asking.
Heat wrapped around her instantly.
His scent engulfed her.
Cedar.
Stone.
Power.
Her breath caught despite herself.
"I did not ask for this," she said.
"You needed it."
Their eyes locked.
The bond pulsed hard.
For a moment, the world narrowed to the space between them.
Then he stepped back.
"Eat," he ordered.
She took the offered ration and bit into it.
Dry.
Salty.
"I am not a prisoner," she said between bites.
"You are under my protection."
"That sounds like a prettier cage."
He poured water into a cup and crushed a dried leaf between his fingers absentmindedly.
The cup cracked.
Water spilled down his hand.
He stared at it for a second, then set it aside.
"You killed Fenris," he said.
"Yes."
"Without hesitation."
"Yes."
"That should terrify you."
"It does not."
He looked at her sharply.
"It terrifies everyone else."
"Then perhaps they should stop attacking villages."
Silence stretched again.
The wind picked up.
Dark clouds rolled closer.
Alaric studied her with renewed intensity.
"You rode for hours without complaint," he said. "Your horse did not slow until I pushed it."
"I am stubborn."
"You are trained."
Her jaw tightened.
"Be careful," she warned. "You are starting to sound like you admire me."
"I admire strength."
"And yet you threaten villages to get what you want."
His gaze hardened.
"I protect my territory."
"You intimidate it."
"It is effective."
She stepped closer.
Close enough that their cloaks brushed.
"And what happens when I stop being effective for you?"
His eyes flashed gold.
"Then we renegotiate."
The mate bond surged.
Electric.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
For a second, her herbal mask cracked.
Just a hair.
His pupils blew wide.
"There," he breathed. "I felt it."
She stepped back immediately.
"You felt nothing."
He moved closer.
Slow.
Measured.
Like a hunter who knew he had cornered something dangerous.
"You are lying again."
Thunder rolled overhead.
The first drops of rain fell.
The scouts shifted uneasily.
"My King," one said quietly. "The storm will trap us if we linger."
Alaric did not look away from Zoraide.
"We move," he said.
She turned to mount her horse again.
As she swung up, her grip slipped deliberately.
She let herself fall.
Alaric caught her instantly.
Strong arms around her waist.
Too fast.
Too sure.
Her body reacted before her mind.
She braced against his chest.
For one breath, one heartbeat, she felt it.
The match.
Power meeting power.
Not dominance.
Recognition.
His breath hitched.
"You should have fallen harder," he murmured.
"I did not want to injure you."
He laughed softly.
"You are full of contradictions."
He helped her back onto the horse.
As he stepped away, his hand lingered on her thigh a fraction too long.
"Tomorrow," he said quietly, "I push you harder."
She met his gaze.
"Be careful," she replied. "I might push back."
His smile turned sharp.
"I am counting on it."
They rode on toward the Peaks as the storm closed in.
Behind them, lightning split the sky.
Ahead, the Obsidian Fortress waited.
And Zoraide knew one thing with chilling certainty.
If she slipped again, even once, Alaric would see her clearly.
And he would never let her go.