“I was kidnapped,” my mate says, her hand sliding into my paw.
The moment our skin touches, I feel her soul grow lighter, and her warmth floods into me. A slow, dangerous heat builds in my stomach. Not now.
“They planned to throw me to the vólkins, to my death.” She squeezes my paw, her gaze sweeping over the silent crowd. “As you see, I am well and alive.” Then, she looks up at me, her next words striking like a bolt of lightning. “And this is my husband.”
My ears twitch. My head tilts on its own. Husband? Is that what humans call a mate? If so... then Noël is my husband as well. I like the sound of it. She also declared we’re mates in front of other humans. That fills my chest with pride.
The elders chose to stay. They have known nothing beyond these borders, nothing but the life they were given. Change, even when it offers freedom, is a terrifying thing.
I don’t blame them, but I must make sure they’re comfortable.
Five warriors I’ve selected will remain behind. These vólkins will control and oversee everything, the human slaves will rebuild what we tore down. Borodýn will become a village without chains, but still under our rule.
The mothers with children chose to come with us to Ávera, clinging to the promise of a life free from suffering. The never-mated females made their choice as well. They do not wish to be left behind in the ruins of their old lives. They seek a future.
For now, as we take more land, the females will be given time to gather their belongings, though there is little worth taking from these broken homes.
My gaze sweeps over my mate where she stands with furrowed brows and crossed arms. Her gown is soaked with blood that isn’t hers. Maybe she wants to have her belongings as well. Although we cannot take over Tárnov yet. It is too risky for us, since it’s one of the most armed villages. It isn’t the right time. Yet.
I’ve assigned another five packs to carry the females’ belongings back to Ávera. That should be enough for now, since we need warriors for the next villages. The warriors will move in rotations. Every village we conquer remains under our watch. No territory will be left unguarded, no land reclaimed left unprotected.
And those stationed here will have their chance to meet the females from other villages, to find the mates they have been denied for too long. I will do whatever it takes to make sure my people find their mates. Because no vólkin should live without their other half. And I will not stop until every one of them is bonded.
“Not a single one!”
Ívar stomps closer, waving his paws in the air. Nér has just taken over his post with the slaves.
My mate catches my gaze before turning away and walking toward the females. She wants to speak with them, to ease their fear.
I tear my eyes from her to focus back on Ívar. “Calm your senses,” I say.
“Hundreds, Theron! Hundreds! And none! Not even one!” His chest heaves, his claws flexing at his sides. “When will I meet my own?”
Everywhere I look, the females move in and out of their homes, carrying burdens they should have never had to bear. Some help the elders, others haul cloth sacks filled with whatever they can salvage. Warriors carry the heavy items. I think I’m seeing a table. Perhaps the female truly likes that table. Each female is different.
Just like us.
Some are pale like my mate, others as rich in color as the earth itself. Their hair varies like the nýmphí—red, golden, brown, light as sand—but none as dark as hers. Just as no other warrior is as white-furred as Aeson. We are not meant to be the same.
“That is why we will continue.” My voice is calm. “Village after village, land after land. Until every warrior finds his mate.”
Ívar lets out a harsh breath, his golden eyes narrowing as he looks over at the shackled males. “They’re even uglier than the one who pissed himself.”
Nodding, I smirk. I once thought Gregor was unpleasant to look at.
I was wrong.
These males—these pathetic creatures—couldn’t possibly call themselves males. Even those who drooled over the nýmphí, their weak cocks standing uselessly, were... small. How could that possibly satisfy a female? A mate is meant to be strong, meant to claim, protect, and worship. This is why no one should ever go against nature.
Mother Nature decreed it so—there is woman and there is vólkin. That is the balance. That is the law. But Ádám created these males with a snake. Ugly, greedy, and weak.
With a weary sigh, I glance up at the sky, clear and blue, untouched by the chaos below. Yet, beyond the village walls, the wolves still wait. Watching.
Aeson, Kaël, Zephyr... I wonder how they fare with their packs. I’ve sent signals, but no response. They’re already too far to reach.
59
OLD SONGS OF ELDERS
