But now, I can’t stop thinking about it.
I need to go back to Tárnov.
12
THE SOUL’S FIRST LAW
“A vólkin without his mate is strong. But a vólkin who chooses his mate above all else is unstoppable. The mate is the soul’s first law.”
—Elder Aïna, Lesson of the Sacred Bond
Theron
While my mate bathes, I stand guard, every muscle in my body tense. The forest is alive with its usual sounds—the rustling of leaves, the whisper of wind—but my attention is tuned to the splashes of water behind me. Each one sharpens my awareness of her. I listen to every movement she makes, how the water slips over her skin, the way her fingers caress her body as she washes. My cock leaks. Just at the thought of her behind me, so close and yet entirely out of reach.Calm yourself, Theron.
She deserves this moment of peace after the chaos she’s endured. I want to offer her a life where she’s never forced to suffer again. My every instinct demands I provide for her, carefor her in ways she doesn’t yet understand, but I know I must give her time.
Clenching my fists, I try to focus on the task at paw.Stay alert.
I scan the forest for any threat, but the only sound I hear is my mate’s soft murmur to the leaf spirits near her, guarding her as I am. There’s something about hearing her speak to them. She’s interacting with my world. It’s finally become hers too.
Human females, according to what we’ve learned from Elder Aïna, require frequent nourishment compared to vólkins. That knowledge was once nothing but a piece of information, something to remember from lessons. Now, it feels vital. She’ll need food soon. She’smyresponsibility, and I must feed her.But I can’t leave her to go hunting. Not when she might bolt at any moment.
Even though she’s starting to let her guard down, I know fear and distrust are present in her heart. I must ensure she stays by my side long enough to realize she’s already home.
In human-lore lessons, Elder Aïna taught us everything she knew about them, about their bodies, their needs, their way of life. I was always fascinated by how much she knew. She spoke of humans with deep respect, as if they were vulnerable yet strong at the same time. I’d never seen a human before, but her descriptions painted vivid pictures in my mind. Their bodies, so different from ours, require care in ways I hadn’t imagined before.
How will my mate adapt to our ways? Will she accept the life I can offer her, or will she always long for the world she left behind? She had a life before she met me, in a place I know nothing about, and I wonder if she’ll ever truly feel at home here.
What foods does she prefer? What does she enjoy in her quiet moments? Does she like mornings, or is she more content in theembrace of night? What simple joys bring her happiness? And what does she look like beneath her??—
My ears twitch, catching a distant noise. A voice. A human voice. Two of them.
Humans. Here, in the forest. It shouldn’t be possible, wasn’t before the barrier fell. I strain my hearing, tracking the direction of the voices. They’re distant but still too close. Who would dare wander this far into the woods?
A threat. It has to be. This part of the forest, the lands surrounding Ávera, was untouched by humans until last night, when everything changed. It can’t be a coincidence.
A low growl rumbles in my throat. Her safety is my priority. No one can touch her. No one can disrupt this fragile peace we’re beginning to build.
I inhale deeply. If they are here searching for Noël, they will not find her. Not unless I allow it. My paw tightens into a fist, claws flexing against my palm as I prepare myself for whatever may come. But I can’t leave her alone. I can’t abandon her, not even to investigate the source of the sound.
“Is something the matter?” Noël’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and when I turn to face her, she’s standing with her hands resting on her hips. Dampness makes the fabric of her dress cling to her curves, outlining her body in a way that tests every drop of my self-control.
Goddesses help me. She’s torturing me without even realizing it.
“Nothing to worry about,” I manage, keeping my voice steady. I force my gaze to stay on hers, even though my instincts are screaming at me to do anything but. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.
She tilts her head, her dark eyes searching mine, but she doesn’t seem satisfied with my response.
“You must be hungry,” I say. “Let’s find some food.”
As we walk through the forest, the underbrush parts for her. The trees are watching my mate. Branches sway above us, leaves rustling in response to our passage. Every now and then a twig snaps, and I find myself tensing, hyperaware of everything around us—both the unseen humans I can still hear and the rhythm of her steps beside me.
She moves with intention and focus, her eyes scanning the environment. Her movements are graceful, her steps almost soundless, and I can tell that even though she’s new to these woods, she knows how to survive. She might be small—so small that the brush barely touches the hem of her gown—but she’s not weak.
“Noël,” I say, unable to curb my curiosity any longer, “do you know how to identify which plants are safe to eat?”
“Actually, yes.” She stops and turns toward me, a spark of excitement lighting her eyes. “My military training covered basic survival skills, including foraging.” She points toward a bush nearby, its branches heavy with bright berries. “See those? They’re safe to eat. The uniform color, bright sheen, and how plump they are are good indicators. Also, I recognize them from our training simulations.”
