Page 67 of The Pack

The way she’d surrendered, even with her defiant streak still so obvious, had made my blood heat. And her moans… Christ, those moans had been seared into my brain, replaying on an endless loop.

I clenched my fists at my sides, forcing myself to focus on the path ahead. This wasn’t like me. I was supposed to be the steady one, the calm in the storm, but Zara had thrown me off balance in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

I wanted her.

Badly.

Not just for a night, not just to sate the heat that radiated from her every glance, every touch.

I wanted her as mine.

As ours.

Forever.

The instinct to claim her, to mark her, had been growing stronger with each passing day. I felt it in my bones, in every fiber of my being and it was getting harder and harder to fight every day.

I glanced back, my eyes locking onto hers for just a moment. She walked a few paces behind me, her steps light but sure, the cloak Tobias had given her wrapped tightly around her small frame. Her dark hair fell loose over her shoulders, and even in the soft morning light, her cheeks still carried the faintest hint of a blush from the teasing earlier.

She was beautiful. Strong. Resilient in ways I couldn’t quite understand yet.

I wanted to ruin her.

I wanted to hear her moan my name the way she’d moaned for Thorne. I wanted to feel her squirm beneath me, her body trembling as I pushed her to her limits. I wanted to knot her, tofill her with my seed, to mark her in a way that left no doubt in anyone’s mind—especially hers—that she belonged to me.

Tous.

The thought of sharing her with my pack didn’t bother me. It was how we worked, how we’d always worked. But the idea of claiming her together, of her taking each of us in turn, her body soft and pliant as we bred her…

I let out a slow breath, forcing myself to calm the storm building in my chest. Yet, I couldn’t stop myself from imagining it. Her body arched beneath mine, her scent intoxicating as I marked her neck with my teeth. The sound of her gasps and cries as she begged for more.

I wanted her to know, to feel that she was ours, not because of the heat, not because instinct had driven us together, but because shechoseus.

The heat had taken away choice. It had consumed her, consumed us, until there was nothing but pure need that had forced her to submit and us to take. None of us had been able to resist it—it was bigger than will, bigger than reason.

But now… now, she could decide.

And that was what I wanted more than anything. Not just her body surrendering to instinct, but her. Choosing us. Wanting us. Not because she had no other option, but because she saw us—trulysaw us—and still wanted to belong.

That would mean more than any heat-driven claim. That would make her ours in every way that mattered.

I hummed a low, familiar tune under my breath, a melody my mother used to sing when I was a child. It was a habit I’d pickedup when my thoughts grew too loud, when I needed to ground myself, but this time, it didn’t help. Zara had become a fire in my veins, a flame that wouldn’t be extinguished until she was marked, until she bore the undeniable proof of what she was to us.

Our mate.

CHAPTER 16

Zara

I had another dream last night.

It started the same way it always did—soft and blurry around the edges, like looking through a fogged window. I was home again, in London. The air carried the faint hum of machinery, the scent of oil and smoke mixing with the perfume of blooming roses from the manicured gardens.

London had always been a city of contradictions. Its streets were lined with ornate gas lamps, their flickering flames spilling warm pools of light on cobblestone roads. The sound of engines churning filled the air, mingling with the rhythmic clatter of steam-powered carriages and the clip of polished boots on stone.

Soldiers in crisp uniforms patrolled the streets, their faces hidden beneath the smooth, expressionless visors of their helmets. Banners bearing the sigil of the Regency flapped in the wind, their stark black-and-gold designs a reminder of the order that ruled us all.

Order and fear: That’s what London was built on.

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