Page 39 of Collar Me Crazy
"For you to walk away and find someone who won't get you killed."
She was quiet for a long moment, studying his face with those too-perceptive eyes. When she spoke, her voice was gentle but implacable.
"I'm not walking away, Ryker. Not from you, not from this, not from whatever's coming. So you can either waste energy trying to push me away, or you can use that energy to help me figure out how to beat this thing."
He wanted to argue, to list all the reasons why staying away from each other was the logical choice. Instead, he found himself reaching for her, pulling her against his chest and burying his face in her hair.
"I can't lose you," he said quietly. "I won't survive it."
"Then don't lose me. Fight for us instead of against us."
They stood like that for several minutes, holding each other while the November morning grew brighter outside. His wolf settled, content with her closeness, but his human mind was already planning.
"I need to prepare the sanctuary," he said eventually.
"For what?"
"For whatever's coming. If the Void breaks through, if the protective barriers fail, people are going to need somewhere safe to go." He pulled back.
"Of course. But Ryker?" She cupped his face in her hands. "While we're preparing for the worst case scenario, we're also going to keep looking for a better option. Deal?"
"Deal."
She kissed him then, soft and sweet, and for a moment his wolf convinced him that maybe love really could conquer everything. But as she gathered her clothes and prepared to leave, the weight of the prophecy settled back around him.
After she left, Ryker threw himself into preparations with the kind of focused intensity that had kept him alive this long. He reinforced the sanctuary's protective wards, using techniques Varric had taught him years ago. He inventoried supplies, calculated how many people the facility could shelter, identified weak points in the defenses.
But underneath all the practical planning, one thought circled endlessly through his mind: he'd tasted heaven in Sonya's arms, and now he was expected to give it up to save the world.
The messenger hawk found him around noon, perched on the porch railing while he installed additional ward stones.
"You look different," she observed in the common tongue.
"Different how?"
"Your scent's all tangled up with the seer's now." She preened her healing wing thoughtfully. "Also miserable. Shouldn't you be happy about finding your mate?"
"It's complicated."
"Ah. Politics?"
"Prophecy."
"Worse than politics." The hawk tilted her head, fixing him with one golden eye. "Word of advice? Running from destiny usually just gets you there faster. And in worse shape."
"I'm not running. I'm preparing."
"For what?"
"To keep everyone safe when everything falls apart."
"Including her?"
Ryker's hands froze on the ward stone. "Especially her."
"Even if keeping her safe means letting her go?"
The question hung in the air between them, sharp and unavoidable. Because that was the real choice, wasn't it? Not just about completing the bond or triggering the prophecy, but about whether he was strong enough to sacrifice his own happiness for the greater good.
