Page 7

Kane’s bowl fell from his hands, landing on the soft Earth of the forest floor. “Ye found the lass?”

My lips twitched as adrenaline buzzed through my system.

“I found her.”

“Well, let’s go!” He huffed in his thick Scottish brogue. “What’re we doin’ jus standin’ around?!”

I shifted back, surging forward and bypassing him in seconds. With a Gaelic curse, Kane gave way to his Beast as well and followed after me.

The last thing I wanted was to start a fucking war, so once I was sure they knew we were here (thanks to a few strategic laps in sight of their cameras) I picked the one closest to the compound and waited for someone to speak.

I expected pushback. What I got was a chaotic greeting by a male I’m still not sure should be allowed access to their security, followed by instructions to choose one male and head to the west entrance of the compound.

Now, my fucking heart’s pounding in my chest while I wait for someone to open the door after Kane’s knock.

This is all finally starting to feel real.

My Mate is behind this door. In this castle, somewhere. I’m so close to her I can taste it. My Beast paces just beneath my skin, just as anxious as I am to get eyes on her.

Logically, I know she’s not going to be the one who opens the door, but rather the staff member or butler—do these pretentious assholes employ butlers?— I’m expecting, when the thick slab of iron-reinforced oak swings open, it’s shockingly a full Bastard who greets us.

And I think it’s safe to assume by the massive grin on his face that this is the same chaotic male I spoke to over the cams.

His grin actually widens when he sees us, as though answering the door at 9 p.m. to two wolven is the best thing that’s happen to him all century.

“Hey! I’m Silas!” The male pulls the door wider and gestures for us to step through.

Kane and I exchange a look, but do as we’re bid, only for Silas to immediately turn his back on us and take off, gesturing blindly at us to follow.

Ballsy little fucker.

“Super excited to have you here, obviously,” he tosses over his shoulder as we march through a large kitchen. “But first things first. Some ground rules.”

Kane raises a questioning brow, but I just shrug. His guess is as good as mine.

“No biting. Not unless someone bites you first. No shifting indoors. Gavran won’t like that.”

The door slams shut behind us with a thud that makes my muscles tense. My Beast bristles, equally as uncomfortable as I am.

As we cut through the kitchen, the scent of slow-roasting lamb and spices hits me hard. My stomach growls at the smell of food I don’t have to chase down and kill myself.

The pup slows to a stop and turns to face us. “Damn, sorry. Are you hungry? Do you want snacks?” He winces. “Wait… is it rude to offer a wolven snacks? You don’t like, have to do any tricks or anything if you want some.”

Kane opens his mouth, but Silas’s whole face lights up before he adds, “Unless you want to do a trick. Because it’s totally cool if you do.”

I relax my jaw, which aches from clenching it.

Kane’s hand lands on my arm, and he squeezes it in warning. “He does nae do tricks for food,” he answers for me. “He’s more of a… stalk his prey, then rip out its throat kind o’ animal.”

For the first time, I see a crack in Silas’s confidence. His smile falters, and with a laugh that sounds obviously forced he responds, “Ha! That's… That’s great. Seriously. Love that for us.”

The pup’s self-preservation instincts—which I was starting to think didn’t exist—finally kick in, and he leads us the rest of the way in relative silence. Twice he opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, only to snap it shut with a grimace and pick up his pace.

We follow him through a dining room containing a table large enough to seat my extended family and all their pups, down several winding halls, before eventually arriving in what must be a rarely-used part of the castle. The air here is stale. Heavy and unused, like this area is simply an afterthought.

“Welcome to the study,” Silas announces, come to a stop in front of a paneled oak door and wrapping his hand around an old brass knob. The metal squeaks as the heavy oak swings open and we step into the room.

Silas flashes us another huge grin. “Whelp. That’s that, then. Gav and Dax should be here soon.”