“I have been waiting eons for you, my mate.”
Did Arnold’s friend hit me so hard I’m imagining a vólkin kneeling and speaking? He is speaking to me... speaking! What is going on here?
And what is this mate nonsense? Is it his mating season?
No matter. He can say whatever his heart desires. I simply do not care.
When he rises, he looks even more massive straightened to his full height, but his gaze doesn’t leave mine. “My name is Theron,” he says, his voice low and rumbling but surprisingly gentle. “I speak because my kind are not the monsters of your nightmares. We have voices, thoughts, and emotions just as you do. We live, we feel, and we desire balance.”
My expression says it all. He didn’t even need to hear the question.
He takes a slow step, his massive paw-hand reaching out as if to reassure me. My gaze turns to his lowered paw, and I catch sight of his cock again, fully erect. Shit.
My cheeks burn, heat rushing down to my chest, and I force my eyes up quickly. I hope he didn’t notice.
He follows my gaze, looking down at himself before his mouth curls into a grin, the amusement lighting up his face in a way that makes my cheeks burn even hotter.
Not quick enough. He noticed.
“Ah,” he rumbles, his voice teasing. “I see I’ve... distracted you.”
I swallow hard. He doesn’t seem embarrassed, far from it. There’s confidence in the way he stands, completely unashamed, as if this moment were as natural to him as breathing.
“I...” My voice cracks, and I have to tear my eyes away, focusing on anything else—anything but the intense heat rolling off him, the way his grin makes something inside me stir. What is going on with my body today?
Theron chuckles. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite. Not unless you ask.”
Did he really just say that?
How did I find myself in such a horrific situation? Mother, look what’s happening right after your death. Everything you taught me about being strong, about surviving, and now here I am... standing before this... this creature. This beast. And I’m letting him unnerve me like I’m some frightened girl?
My knees are weak, so much they almost give way under the emotions burning inside me—fear, confusion, shame—but I clench my fists around the spear and force myself to stand tall. No, I can’t afford to show weakness. Not in front of him. Not in front of anyone.
“Do not,” I spit out through gritted teeth, “come any closer!”
My legs may be shaking, my body betraying the fear pumping through my veins, but I won’t back down.
His eyes soften, the teasing grin slipping away as he watches me stand my ground. “You’ve got fire, I can see that.” Hestraightens, giving me space, his gaze never leaving mine. “I won’t come closer.”
Why isn’t he attacking? Why am I not attacking? Why do I feel warmth in my heart?
“I don’t care what you are or what you want, but don’t you dare move!” My voice quivers, but I force the words out with as much strength as I can muster.
The vólkin’s eyes move to the weapon in my hand, but instead of advancing, he lifts his paw to his chest. “I understand your fear”—his voice sends goose bumps prickling across my skin—“but I mean you no harm. If holding that weapon makes you feel safe, you are welcome to do so.”
“How can you speak?” I need more thanI’m not a beast. “And why would you call me your mate?”
“We have voices and minds, same as you do. The barrier has kept us separated for centuries, but that doesn’t mean we are without understanding or speech. As for why I call you my mate...” He pauses, and his voice drops lower. “It’s not something I chose, human. It’s a bond, deeper than blood, woven by the goddesses themselves. I felt it the moment I caught your scent.”
I narrow my gaze. Mother never said anything about mates. Only that vólkins are guardians of nature. She might have been tricked before. Although thinking that Mother would believe nonsense feels foolish.
“You may not believe me now,” he continues, “but I would never harm you. The bond between us... it is sacred. It’s more than words, more than what you’ve been told to fear. You are not just a human to me. You are my mate—the one I’ve been waiting for.”
How could Mother be wrong? But how could the military be wrong? They’ve always prepared me to survive, to fight, to shieldmyself from the vólkin. Yet here I am, torn between everything I’ve been taught and what my mother believed.
As I stare into the eyes of this creature—thisTheron—I see no malice, no aggression. His gaze, piercing as it is, holds something gentle. Nothing like the feral, bloodthirsty beasts I was warned about.
I want to believe my mother, to trust in the wisdom she imparted. But what if she was wrong? What if this creature is simply biding its time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike?
