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“You can’t go inside a male’s den unless you’re mated to him,” Valko said with a grin. “Putting your scent in an unmated man’s space is a sure way to drive him mad. A shifter’s den is sacred.”
Oh.
“I didn’t know that.”
“We know,” Ivaylo grumbled at me.
There were a lot of other shifters around, following us through the trees. The grayscale colors of their fur would’ve ensured they blended into the Broken Woods just fine, but considering the bright colors around us, they weren’t nearly as camouflaged.
I would’ve preferred to get away from so many staring eyes, but there didn’t seem to be a way around it, so I would survive.
“I still need you to let go of me, if just so I have a little independence,” I told Ivaylo.
His grip on my hip tightened, but he didn’t say a word.
I supposed that was a no.
Fighting a sigh, I physically peeled his hand off my hip and slid my fingers between his instead. If we were going to be connected, it would be much easier to be connected like that.
He held my hand firmly, so I assumed he was okay with the slight increase to my independence.
Or he just enjoyed the touch. I definitely didn’t mind the feel of his big, warm hand enveloping mine, even if it wasn’t quite the show of independence I had wanted.
We reached the large tree that marked Worren’s den, and Valko strode up to it, then pounded his fist against the stone. “Come out, Worren. You have a female visitor.”
Ivaylo’s grip on my hand tightened. I squeezed his palm lightly to let him know I was fine, but I wasn’t sure he understood what I was trying to say.
Even if he had, it probably wouldn’t have relaxed him at all.
A thick, large man was out of the tree a moment later. He had raven black hair and eyes, and dark skin. Something about his features and the way he carried himself told me he was considered one of the most attractive werewolves, and suddenly, I understood Ivaylo’s excessive possessiveness.
Worren studied me slowly, his gaze almost… predatory.
I wasn’t a fan of that attention.
Not even a little.
“I’m not here to mate with you, so stop looking at me like that,” I commanded.
The man looked taken aback by my forwardness.
I was a little taken aback by it myself, to be honest.
“What are you here for, then?” he finally asked, his voice low.
It was a silky, sexy voice, but it didn’t make up for the way he’d checked me out. Or the fact that Ivaylo clearly carried at least a small amount of worry that I’d join team Worren or something.
“You want to let yourself fade rather than wait for Serae to bring the right woman from my world?”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “There may not be a right woman.”
“Luckily for you, most humans don’t believe in fate.”
His eyes narrowed further. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you’re about to throw your life away for no reason.” I tossed a hand toward the Broken Woods, in what I thought was the direction Ivaylo had carried me in from. “The next human Serae brings across might not be fated to you. Maybe the third, the fourth, and the fifth won’t be either. But to humans, it doesn’t matter who fate binds us to. What matters is how that person makes us feel.”
Worren was silent, his forehead wrinkled and his glare absent.
