Page 4 of Shifting Hearts 1
I rise, carrying her easily. My cabin is a mile from here, deep in the forest, hidden where no pack scout dares come. I built it myself with timber felled by my own axe, and stone gathered from the riverbank. It’s crude, but it’s mine.
And now it will be hers.
The door groans as I shoulder it open, the scent of woodsmoke filling the air. Inside, the space is simple, a woodstove, a rough-hewn table, and a single bed. My bed.
My mind is at war with itself as I try to think of how to take care of her. I strip her out of the wet dress, desire slamming into me as I touch her naked skin. But this moment isn’t about sex, but about her survival. I lay her naked form down carefully, tucking blankets around her trembling frame. Her skin is clammy and her breath shallow increasing my worry. I stoke the fire higher, warmth licking at the cold edges of her body.
Her dress lies on the floor in a wet heap, torn and stained. The runes embroidered along its hem glow faintly, a sure sign of what she endured. A bonding dress. She was at a mate ceremony tonight.
She was rejected.
The thought slams into me, sharp as claws. Someone looked at this exquisite creature and turned her away. Someone bound to her by the Goddess Herself rejected her.
Rage hums through me, low and hot. But it’s not just my rage. It is the bond and my animal as well. It’s gasoline poured on an open flame, and I want to tear out of here and hunt down the idiot that hurt her so badly. But I remain because she needs me.
I pace the small cabin, unable to keep still. My panther prowls under my skin, restless, and protective. I ladle broth into a cup and force it between her lips, coaxing her to swallow. She stirs only faintly, eyes flickering but never opening.
Two days pass before she wakes. Two days of her scent filling every space. Two days of worry. Two days of knowing my mate is in my bed, naked. Two days of being a gentleman and sleeping on the damn floor.
But on the third morning, her lashes flutter. She blinks up at me, dazed, her gaze catching on mine. Confusion fills her eyes first. Followed by fear. And then…. recognition.
“You…” Her voice is sandpaper.
“You’re safe,” I say, sitting back on the chair I placed beside the bed.
She tries to sit up but collapses. I catch her, steadying her gently, and she flinches from my touch as though I’ve burned her.
I gently lay her back against the pillows. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Her eyes widen, grey and stormy, restless as the sea. I see the moment she realizes what I am. What I am to her. The bond flares between us, sparking, and clawing to be acknowledged.
“Who are you?” she whispers.
“My name is Ranger.”
The name means nothing to most. But to her, it seems to tug at something half-remembered.
“You’re… Stygian,” she says softly.
“I was,” I correct. “Once, a long time ago but not anymore.”
Her throat works as she swallows. Her voice cracks as she whispers, “You felt it too.”
I don’t answer. But then again, I don’t need to. The truth is already written across my face.
Tears fall from her eyes. “I can’t shift,” she chokes out, changing the subject. “She’s gone. My panther. After…” She cuts off, curling in on herself, arms wrapping tight around her stomach. Her sobs are soft and broken. The sound tearing at my heart.
“She isn’t gone,” I say quietly. “She’s hurt, same as you. But she’ll come back.”
Her fingers tighten in the blanket, her knuckles turning white. Her gaze lifts, sharp and desperate. “Why do you care?”
I look away, my jaw clenched tight. “I don’t.” It’s a lie, the only shield I have left. But she already knows better.
Later, while she sleeps once more, I sit at the fire and remember everything I have fought to forget. I left the pack because I couldn’t be who they wanted.
Because Maddox, my brother, was born to lead, and I was born to be free.
We were both marked under the Blood Moon, born only a year apart. My father, the Alpha before Maddox, believed it meant destiny. Rivals. Successors. He trained us like enemies, made us fight for every scrap of his approval.
