Chapter 39

Chapter 39: Chapter 39

Elias stood rigid at the treeline, his back turned. He did not look. He did not peek. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, and his palms were slick with sweat against the hilt of his blade. He was a professional. He was a soldier. He was absolutely not thinking about the sound of fabric sliding over skin, the soft splash of water as Valeria waded into the river.

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

He didn’t look.

Valeria stood in the river in nothing but her thin undergarments, the water rising to her waist. Her body was a study in curves and strength full, round breasts barely contained by the wet fabric clinging to her skin, a slim waist that flared into generous hips, long legs that had carried her through countless battles. Her dark hair spilled down her back like spilled ink, and when she tilted her head back to look at the moon, the silver light caught the elegant line of her throat.

She smiled.

It was not a happy smile. It was the smile of a woman who had spent years chasing something she could never quite catch, and who had finally decided to change tactics.

Get closer to Thorne, Lila purred in her mind. Pretend to let Soren go. Find out what the prince is hiding.

"And then," Valeria murmured aloud, "I’ll take back what’s mine."

She dipped beneath the water, and the river washed the blood and the sweat and the fear away. When she surfaced, her eyes were cold and clear and full of purpose.

The rogues came at him in a coordinated assault one from the front, two from the flanks, the leader hanging back in the shadows and watching with those intelligent yellow eyes. They had clearly hunted together before. They knew how to surround prey, how to cut off escape routes, how to wear down a stronger opponent with patience and numbers.

But Soren was not prey.

He moved through them like a blade through silk, his sword an extension of his arm, his body flowing from strike to strike with the fluid precision of a man who had trained every day of his life for moments exactly like this one. Kael surged beneath his skin, lending him speed and strength and the predator’s instinct that made the difference between a good fighter and a dead one.

Left flank, Kael warned.

Soren spun and took the first rogue’s head off before it could complete its lunge. The body crumpled, and he was already moving toward the second.

Behind you.

He ducked. The rogue’s claws whistled over his head, and Soren drove his blade upward through its chest in a single, brutal thrust. It died with a gurgle, its yellow eyes going dim.

The third rogue hesitated. It had seen its packmates die in the space of five seconds, and whatever feral intelligence burned in its brain was smart enough to recognize a losing battle. It turned to flee.

Soren didn’t let it.

He caught up to it in three strides and ended it with a clean strike to the back of the neck. The rogue collapsed, and the forest went silent.

Soren stood among the bodies, his chest heaving, blood dripping from his blade. He waited, listening for the sound of more attackers. Nothing. The leader had fled or perhaps it had never been here at all, content to let its packmates test the Sword Sovereign while it watched from the shadows.

Coward, Kael growled.

"Smart. There’s a difference." Soren wiped his blade clean on the fur of the nearest rogue and sheathed it. "The leader survived. We’ll have to watch for it."

Then we’ll kill it next time. Kael paused. You fought well tonight.

"So did you."

We make a good team.

"Don’t get sentimental on me."

I would never. I’m a wolf. Wolves don’t do sentimental. Another pause. I’m just saying. For a human who spent years ignoring me, you’ve become marginally less insufferable to share a body with.

"Marginally?"

Don’t push it.

Soren almost smiled. He turned and began walking back toward the hut, his boots crunching softly on the moss. The adrenaline was fading now, replaced by a bone-deep weariness and a hunger that was becoming difficult to ignore. They hadn’t eaten properly since before the mission began.

A movement in the underbrush caught his eye. A squirrel—fat and glossy, its cheeks bulging with whatever it had been gathering before the chaos of the night interrupted it. It froze when it saw him, its tiny body trembling.

Soren stared at it.

The squirrel stared back.

Dinner, Kael said.

"Dinner," Soren agreed.

The squirrel didn’t make it very far.

A few minutes later, Soren was walking back toward the hut with the squirrel in one hand and his sword in the other. The forest was still quiet, the rogues apparently having retreated for good. As he walked, he noticed a glint of silver through the trees a small stream, not far from the hut, its water clear and cold in the moonlight.

"Perfect," he murmured. He could clean the squirrel there. Maybe even wash some of the blood off before he went back to Nyra. He was covered in rogue gore, and while she’d seen worse tonight, he didn’t want to walk into the hut looking like a butcher.

He changed direction and made his way toward the stream.

Elias was a professional.

He had been trained since childhood to be invisible, to be silent, to be the shadow that no one noticed until it was too late. He was patient. He was disciplined. He was absolutely, completely in control of himself.

Until now.

The river had gone quiet.

Elias had been standing with his back to the water, his blade drawn, his eyes scanning the treeline for any sign of rogues. The splashing sounds behind him Valeria bathing, washing the blood and sweat from her body had been steady and rhythmic. Soothing, almost. A reminder that despite everything, life continued.

Then the splashing stopped.

And the silence stretched.

"Miss Valeria?" he called, not turning around. "Is everything alright?"

No answer.

"Valeria?" Louder now. "Can you hear me?"

Still nothing.

His heart began to pound. Had something happened? Had a rogue gotten past him somehow? Had she slipped beneath the water and hit her head? He tried to remember if there were rocks in the river, if the current was strong enough to sweep someone away—

"Valeria, I’m going to turn around. If you can hear me, say something now."

Silence.

He turned.

And forgot how to breathe.

Valeria stood at the edge of the river, utterly and completely naked. Her undergarments lay discarded on the moss at her feet. The moonlight silvered her skin, tracing the curves of her full breasts, the narrow taper of her waist, the generous flare of her hips. Water dripped from her dark hair and ran in rivulets down her body. And she was smiling.

Not a friendly smile. Not a grateful smile. A sly, knowing, predatory smile that made Elias’s blood run hot and cold at the same time.

He opened his mouth. No words came out. His throat had closed completely.

Valeria walked toward him, her bare feet silent on the moss, her hips swaying with each step. She stopped inches from him, close enough that he could smell the river water on her skin and something musky and warm and utterly feminine.

"Shhh." She pressed a finger to his lips. Then her other hand dropped lower, pressing against the front of his trousers. Against the bulge that had formed there without his permission.

Elias made a sound that was not quite a word.

Her smile widened. She worked his belt loose with practiced fingers, letting it drop to the moss. Then his trousers, dragging them down his legs along with his shorts. His cock sprang free, heavy and hard, and the night air made him gasp.

Not as impressive as Soren’s, Lila commented dryly in Valeria’s mind.

Not as impressive as Soren’s, Valeria agreed silently. But we’ll manage. For now. We need satisfaction, and Soren isn’t here to give it to us.

Good point. Let’s enjoy ourselves.

Valeria wrapped her hand around him. Elias’s entire body jerked like she’d struck him with lightning.

"Miss Valeria—" His voice was strangled, barely a whisper. "What are you trying to do? Please, I don’t want Soren’s wra—"

She licked the tip.

"—aaaaah." The rest of his protest dissolved into a sharp, shuddering breath as his head fell back and his eyes squeezed shut.

Valeria smiled around him and got to work.

Nyra couldn’t wait anymore.

She had paced the length of the hut so many times she was certain she’d worn a groove into the stone floor. The candle had burned down to a stub. The silence outside was unbearable. Every minute that passed felt like an hour. Every imagined sound made her heart leap into her throat.

He’ll be back, Luna said for the dozenth time. He’s the Sword Sovereign. He’s fought worse than a few rogues.

"You don’t know that."

I know he’s our mate. I know the bond connects us. And I know— Luna paused. he’s close. I can feel him.

Nyra stopped pacing. "You can feel him?"

Dimly. Through the bond. He’s alive. He’s coming back.

"Then why isn’t he here yet?"

Maybe he stopped to pick flowers for you.

"Luna."

I’m being optimistic. It’s a nice change of pace.

Nyra couldn’t wait anymore. She grabbed her short sword from the table and strode toward the door.

Nyra, wait. He told you to stay inside. If you go out there and something happens—

"Then at least I’ll be doing something instead of sitting here imagining the worst."

She pulled the door open—

And there he was.

Soren stood in the doorway, one hand raised as if he’d been about to knock. His other hand held a dead squirrel. His shirt was torn, his face was streaked with rogue blood that hadn’t washed off, and he looked exhausted beyond words. But he was alive. He was whole. He was here.

The tears Nyra had been holding back for hours finally broke free.

She threw herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck, her face pressing into his chest. The sword clattered to the floor. The squirrel dropped from his hand. She didn’t care. She just held him, held him as tight as she could, as if he might dissolve into mist if she let go.

"You’re alive," she choked out. "You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re—"

"I’m alive." His voice was rough with surprise, but his arms came around her, steady and solid. One hand pressed against her back. The other cupped the back of her head, his fingers threading through her silver hair. "I’m here. I’m not going anywhere."