The fated hunter wolf a.., p.25
The Fated Hunter Wolf: A Rejected Mate Shifter Romance, page 25
The vampire’s grip loosened enough for me to gasp out, “Sable—”
She was still talking, her mental voice growing fainter. If we die like this, at least it’s together. I can’t live without you, anyway. Can’t exist in a world where we aren’t together.
Her lips were moving, fighting to get words out through the choking.
Please, I tried to say, my only breath being quick wheezes, our shared pain making it hard to think.
She met my eyes across the chamber, and somehow, impossibly, she smiled. A broken, resigned smile that nearly undid me completely.
“Rhys Orion,” she choked out between gasps. “I love you.”
The vampire’s grip loosened.
Genuine shock rippled across his ancient features. His fingers began to tremble against my throat. His entire hand was shaking, the effort of maintaining his hold suddenly requiring visible strain. Whatever power had been flowing through him was… ebbing.
My lungs sucked in air and color returned to Sable’s face as she drew deep, shuddering breaths. The bond between us—that stubborn thing that had refused to leave us despite all our attempts to kill it—the bond pulsed with new energy, silver light peeking through the cracks like a golden glue on porcelain.
Her love hadn’t just saved us. It was healing what I’d wounded.
I could only hope it wasn’t too late to deserve it.
The vampire’s hand trembled. Sable straightened, blood in the corners of her mouth as she had wolf eyes and vampire teeth. Silver light crawled over her like dawn breaking through fog.
“Get your hands off my mate.” The command in her voice was unmistakable.
The vampire laughed—a low, cracked sound that bared his teeth more than his amusement. “Your mate? Oh, little hybrid—”
His words strangled mid-mockery. Smoke hissed from where his hand met my throat. The scent—burnt metal and decay—hit me a heartbeat before he snarled and squeezed harder. Bone ground in my neck. The world went white around the edges.
And then she breathed. One single, furious breath that lit the chamber like she’d pulled the sun underground. The vampire reeled backward, clutching his blistering hand. The light painted his skin in blistered cracks, his fine clothes melting into ash. I collapsed, sucking air, my throat on fire but alive.
He stared at her through the glare, lips curling. “Strong genes. But you—” His tone thickened with hunger. “You might be what I was searching for all along.”
Sable swayed, the silver around her dimming. Through the bond, I felt her magic falter—her exhaustion dragging like lead through my veins.
He felt it too. The bastard smiled. “Every weapon needs a master.”
That was the last thing he said before I shifted.
No thought. No hesitation. The wolf tore through me, claws scraping stone, the chamber filling with the sound of bones reforming and air shredding.
I hit him mid-stride. His hiss split the air as I drove him backward, teeth grazing his throat, close enough to taste the ancient rot of his blood. He flung me off with a surge of black energy that stank of grave dust, and I lost my bearings.
“No!” Sable screamed and followed it with a battle cry that rallied my wolf. Sable’s power flared as I launched onto the vampire’s back. Sunlight poured from her palms, flooding every corner of the chamber, while my paws held him in place.
The vampire screamed—a sound so high it almost wasn’t sound at all—then he managed at last to escape from under my hold and run for the tunnels, skin flaking away like ash on the wind. Beneath the shriek, my wolf caught his final message, vibrating through the stone.
I’ll come back for you.
And then he was gone.
Sable dropped. I shifted back in time to catch her. The air still shimmered with what she’d unleashed.
I brushed damp strands from her face, my thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “You’re safe.”
“For now,” she whispered.
36
SABLE
Silence settled like smoke—thick, tasting of burnt magic and iron. My father was gone, but the air still held his shape, the memory of his rage etched into stone.
Astrid hung against the wall, the chains half-melted, fused around her wrists. Her skin was gray with exhaustion, yet her magic still glimmered faintly beneath it.
Rhys moved first, bare and bruised, a raw silhouette in the low light of the chamber, and I rushed right behind him. I pressed my fingers against Astrid’s neck. Her pulse fluttered once, twice, steady enough. The faint gold of her life force flickered beneath her skin—fragile, but alive. Relief burned through me, sharp and humiliating in its intensity.
“She’s alive,” I said quietly. “He drained her energy, not her blood.”
Rhys’s exhale was ragged, half-growl, half-prayer. “Then we get her out.”
The chains cracked under his hands, silver shards skittering across the stone. I caught Astrid before she could fall, her head lolling against my shoulder. She was light as breath, her magic a faint whisper against mine.
We climbed the narrow stairway, Rhys ahead of me, each step echoing through the tunnels. His body moved like a shadow. He hadn’t bothered with clothes after his shift, and I barely noticed—until the bond brushed against me, hot and alive again. Proof that he was still here. And that something had drastically changed between us.
Almost there, he sent through the bond.
The smell reached us first. Wolves. Blood. Burned ozone.
We stepped into the assembly hall. The room had been rewritten mid-battle: chairs overturned, tables shoved into barricades, glass glittering across the marble. Blood streaked a trail toward the stage, already drying. The Bellweather crest hung crooked behind it, half-torn.
Eve stood on that stage beside Logan, blue light tracing the air around her fingers. The hum of her power mingled with the low growls of restless wolves.
Several alphas were gone. The absence hit harder than their presence ever had. Emmanuel Vex’s seat was empty, his nameplate cracked in two.
Rhys stopped beside me, eyes scanning the ruin, his shoulders shifting like he was bracing for another fight.
Bart appeared from the chaos, his swagger gone wary. His gaze flicked over Astrid, then up to Rhys. “She looks bad.” His voice carried a rough edge of command. He snapped his fingers, and a young wolf bolted toward the back. “Fetch the healer. Now.”
Rhys took Astrid from my arms and laid her on the nearest intact chair, movements almost reverent. Someone thrust a bundle of clothes into his hands—black pants and an undershirt. He didn’t thank them. Just nodded once, pulling the fabric over sweat-streaked skin.
“What happened?” he asked.
Bart’s mouth twisted. “When Eve returned, the whole damn house tried to eat itself.” He gestured toward the wreckage. “Alpha Vex turned on the others. Eve shut him down before it got worse. He stormed out. Took a few with him.”
Rhys and I stood there, taking it in.
“Welcome back to the surface,” Bart said softly, eyes flicking between us. “Where a lot of rot is making its way out of the woodwork.” He glanced at the stage where the former prisoners were huddled behind Eve. Some were still looking shell-shocked and weak, but a few carried new energy in their stance.
Logan spotted us before we reached the stage. He moved through the scene of former chaos like he owned it—steady, unhurried, every inch the alpha. His stride was calm despite the storm.
“Change is coming,” he said as soon as he was close enough. His gaze swept over Rhys, then me, lingering just long enough to acknowledge the raw energy still sizzling between us. “This was only the beginning. The cracks are finally showing.”
He looked around the hall—the overturned tables, the wolves whispering in clusters, the faint shimmer of Eve’s power hanging in the air. His voice lowered. “The ones who stayed are the ones ready to build something better.”
Eve joined us and touched my shoulder. “Someone is waking.” She nodded to the place where Astrid was being treated by the healer Bart had called in.
I rushed to Astrid’s side. “I’m here,” I whispered into her ear, and a slight smile came across her lips.
“Hey, Mama Sabe.”
The healer rubbed a salve onto Astrid’s forehead. “I’ll take care of her for the next twenty-four hours. She needs quiet and rest, but when I’m done with her, she’ll be good as new.” The healer, a middle-aged woman who, judging from the lines on her face, had seen many wounded shifters, tilted her head. “She’s safe with me.”
“Come.” Eve led me back to the group with Logan and Rhys. “When I arrived with the prisoners, Vex had already started stirring up the different packs. Told them the Council had been infiltrated, that Logan was compromised. I walked in on him trying to seize the floor from Alpha Thorne.”
Logan’s mouth curved. “He didn’t get far.”
Eve turned to him, something fierce and fond in her eyes. “Someone needs to keep the peace and civility in a place like this. You made sure of that.”
He reached for her hand and drew her close, kissing her deeply as shifters started tidying up the mess.
When Logan finally broke the kiss, his expression changed—alpha again, but softer around the edges. He turned to me. “It couldn’t have happened without you, Sable. None of this.” Heads turned, most of them given shifter hearing.
I froze, unsure what to do with that kind of attention. Compliments were a currency I didn’t trade in. But he raised his hand—palm open, fingers curled slightly, waiting.
For a heartbeat, I didn’t move. Then, I placed my hand against his, and our fists closed together. His grip was warm.
“You are, and will always be, Orion,” he said.
Something in my chest tightened. The words hit deeper than they should have—Logan claiming me as one of his own.
When we let go, I felt Rhys step closer behind me. His heat pressed against my back, his scent curling in the air. His hand slid around my waist—not possessive, just there.
Bart cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’d say this was a big day. And now that the Council has been unexpectedly dismissed, we have a free day. I’m making sure the Orion delegation is put up in the best hotel our pack runs, so you can rest up before we hit the town tonight.” He raised his hand to high-five Logan, and Logan offered the high-five right back.
“A little rest sounds like a great idea,” Rhys whispered in my ear, but when I turned and looked at him, I knew that we’d be doing anything but rest. He wove his fingers through mine, and I suddenly wondered how we were going to make it to any hotel.
My body was on fire for him, for my mate. My fated mate.
It was time to seal our bond.
The hallway was too quiet—just the sound of my pulse refusing to calm.
Rhys stopped at our door and turned. The movement was slow, as if he wasn’t sure whether to touch me or fall apart trying not to.
His gaze found mine, and whatever words he’d been holding back broke under their own weight. “Sable,” he said, then swallowed.
I didn’t remember leaning in first. Only that one moment I could breathe, and the next, his mouth was on mine.
The kiss wasn’t soft. It was sure. It found the walls I’d built and pulled until they collapsed. What mattered was his body pressed into mine, warm through the thin barrier of my clothes, the cool wall against my back. It was a relief not to think about control or danger or bloodlines. Instead, I thought about the taste of him, the heat between us, the way the bond had become almost a living thing encircling us.
He kissed like he fought—focused, relentless, a rhythm that burned and steadied at once. My hands found his shoulders, tracing the lines of strength there, memorizing what survival felt like.
When he finally pulled back, both of us were breathing like we’d outrun something. His forehead rested against mine.
“Rhys,” I breathed heavily against him, “get the door open.”
“Door,” he whispered, voice rough. “I should—yeah—door.”
He fumbled for the keycard, still close enough that each movement brushed against me. His fingers missed the slot twice.
“Rhys,” I murmured, my lips still tingling. “Open this fucking door.”
“Trying,” he said through clenched teeth, though his mouth was already finding mine again. “I just can’t bear to stop feeling you against me.”
The lock finally whirred. The door swung open, and momentum carried us through. We stumbled, caught between laughter and hunger, his hands bracing us against the nearest wall before it could close again.
The hotel room was all glass and city lights, Dallas sprawling beneath us like a carpet of stars someone had spilled across the ground. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed the skyline in sharp relief—buildings lit up against the night, cars moving far below in rivers of red and white. The kind of view that cost more per night than most people made in a month.
I caught the faint scent of rain through the glass, the city beyond lit up and looking unreal. Rhys’s eyes caught the light—full with a feral shimmer that made my pulse trip.
“This okay?” he asked, voice low enough to almost disappear between heartbeats.
I answered by pulling him back to me. The kiss deepened—a kiss that learned rather than claimed. His thumb brushed the edge of my jaw, tracing a path that felt both promise and apology. For a moment the bond flared, silver and gold twining so tightly I could feel his heart beating inside my own ribs.
When we broke apart, we were still close enough to share breath. I almost told him what it felt like, how the world had gone weightless, but the words would’ve broken it.
Instead, I watched his lips. He smiled, the corner of his mouth curving with a hunger that set me on fire.
The door drifted shut behind us, cutting off the corridor light.
“Finally,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for this for longer than I knew.”
He scooped me into his arms and carried me to the massive king-size bed. Then he laid me down with such delicate precision that I started to believe I was a princess.
Me—the head enforcer of Crux—turning to putty in the arms of my mate. I let out a long exhale and knew without any shred of doubt that this was exactly where I was supposed to be.
With him.
37
RHYS
Her expression softened as I climbed onto the bed beside her, my arm sliding beneath her neck. I brushed a lock of hair from her face and watched her expression turn to wonder. To curiosity. To love.
Goddess, how did I end up with this incredible woman?
It wasn’t enough to say it to the Goddess in silence. Sable needed to hear it. Now. I looked out the window for some inspiration. How was I supposed to start? I was about to seal a bond with my fated mate, a woman I never in my craziest dreams would have imagined would be for me. Yet she was wholly mine, and I was so fucking madly hers there wasn’t even a question anymore.
Despite everything I’d put her through.
The hotel room was floor-to-ceiling glass, Dallas stretching out forty stories below—highway interchanges and high-rises, the whole city grid lit up like someone's circuit board.
But I didn't give a shit about the skyline. I needed words.
Sable lay on the bed where I'd just placed her, her hair fanned across the pillow, eyes dark with desire and trust. That trust—it made my chest tight. She reached for me, her fingers curling in invitation.
"Tonight," she said softly. "We seal the bond."
I stayed at the edge of the bed, not moving closer. "Yeah."
Her brow furrowed at my hesitation. "Then come here." She sat up, reaching for me again. "I'm ready, Rhys. I want this."
"Sable—"
"I'm not going to change my mind." She moved to the edge of the bed, close enough to touch. "We can talk about anything in the morning."
"No."
She froze, pulling back a fraction, eyebrows raised in question.
I stayed where I was, even though every instinct screamed to close the distance. "We're not doing this."
"Doing what, exactly?"
"Sealing the bond and hoping that fixes what I broke."
Her jaw tightened. "I said I forgive you. That it was as much me as you. I'm here, aren't I? What else do you want?"
"I want you to let me say it." The words came out rougher than I meant. "All of it. What I did. Why I did it. Why I was wrong."
"I was there, Rhys. I don't need a recap."
"Maybe I do."
She stared at me. Something changed in her expression—surprise, maybe. Or suspicion.
I ran a hand through my hair. "I told you that you meant nothing to me. You remember that part?"
"You rejected the bond." Her voice was flat. "You were cruel about it. We've established this."
The memory tasted like bile. "You came to Orion territory, probably scared out of your mind, definitely in pain from the bond forming—and I looked you in the eye and told you to leave. That I didn't want you, that I could never want someone like you."
Sable shifted on the bed, drawing her knees up slightly. "Okay. Yes. You said that."
"And then I severed it. At least, I tried." I took a step closer, watching for permission. "Do you know what that means? In our world, rejecting a mate bond isn't just breaking up. It's sacrilege. It's taking something sacred and ripping it apart. It's—" I stopped. Swallowed. "It nearly killed you."
"But it didn't."
"It should have." My wolf surged, agitated. I pushed him down. "Cutting a bond that strong—most wolves don't survive it. And I knew that. I felt your pain through the bond right before I severed it, and I did it anyway. You survived because you were the strong one, not me."
She flinched. Just slightly, but I saw it.
"So yeah," I said. "We're going to talk about it. Because I don't get to say 'I love you' now and pretend I didn't nearly destroy you."
