Page 108 of Feral Fates
“What are you thinking?” Ryker asks, leaning against the doorway. His wounds from the final battle with Thaddeus have healed, though several new scars mark his powerful frame.
“That I never imagined this would be my future,” I answer honestly, meeting his mismatched eyes in the mirror. “Alpha Female. Council member. And now…” I trace my fingers over my stomach. “Mother.”
He crosses the room, coming to stand behind me. His large hands cover mine on my belly, his touch gentle.
“Regrets?” he asks, his breath warm against my neck.
“Not one,” I reply, leaning back into his solid warmth. “Though I’m still terrified.”
Through our bond, I feel his understanding—deeper now than ever before. In the months since the battle, our connection has continued to strengthen, so much so that I often don’t know where one of us ends and the other begins.
“The healer says everything is progressing perfectly,” he reminds me, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple. “And Elena has delivered dozens of pups without complication.”
I sigh, turning in his arms. “It’s not the birth that frightens me. It’s what comes after.” I lay my palm against his chest, feeling his strong heartbeat beneath my fingers. “What if our pup can’t shift either? What if they?—”
“Stop,” he interrupts, capturing my hand and bringing it to his lips. “Nothing about you is broken, Kitara. Haven’t we proven that a thousand times over?” His eyes—one gold, one crimson—hold mine with fierce intensity. “Whether our pup shifts, sees, or possesses entirely different gifts we haven’t imagined yet—they will be perfect. Because they are ours.”
The absolute certainty in his voice soothes the anxiety that has periodically surfaced throughout my pregnancy.
My wolf stirs within me, equally reassuring.Our pup will be strong, she insists.She is an alpha.
“Besides,” Ryker continues with a small smile, “the world our pup will grow into is already changing. The council system is taking root. Territories are beginning to cooperate rather than compete. Even those who initially resisted are starting to see the benefits.”
He’s right, of course. The provisional council established after Thaddeus’s fall has evolved from idea into reality—a rotating body of representatives from each territory, meeting monthly to address common concerns. Just last week, I sat in a council session where a newcomer from a distant eastern territory was welcomed with respect rather than suspicion. A small victory, but significant.
“Come,” Ryker says, taking my hand. “The pack has a surprise for you.”
He leads me through our private chambers into the main living area. There, set before the stone hearth, sits a cradle carved from oak. Intricate patterns trace its curved edges—wolves running beneath a crescent moon, stars scattered among them like watchful eyes. The craftsmanship is exquisite, each detail rendered with loving precision.
“Heath made it,” Ryker explains, watching my reaction closely. “With help from some of the younger wolves. The entire pack contributed in some way—the cushioning is stuffed with down collected by the pups, the blankets woven by the elders.”
I approach the cradle slowly, tears blurring my vision as I trace the carvings with my fingertips. The gesture represents something I once thought impossible—acceptance by a pack.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, emotion tightening my throat.
Ryker slides his arm around my waist. “They wanted to show their support and their loyalty to you.”
Three months ago, such a demonstration would have seemed unlikely. The events surrounding Thaddeus’s fall changed everything. My actions during the crisis—particularly using our bond to help Ryker survive his wounds—earned me the respect of our pack.
A knock at our door interrupts the moment. Ryker tenses slightly—an instinctive protection response he hasn’t fully shed despite the relative peace of recent months.
The fact I’m pregnant hasn’t helped either. If anything, he’s become even more protective. Just last week he forbade me from participating in the pups’ schooling in case I got knocked over by accident.
He learnt rather quickly where he could shovethatidea.
“Enter,” he calls, his body shifting subtly to place himself between me and the doorway.
Elias appears, his expression difficult to discern. “Forgive the interruption, Alpha, Alpha Female. The border patrol has returned with news.”
“What news?” Ryker asks, immediately alert.
Elias’s eyes flick to me briefly. “They found something at the northeastern boundary. Or rather... someone.” He hesitates, uncharacteristic for our stoic security chief. “Two someones, actually.”
My heart leaps. “Lithia?”
A small smile breaks through Elias’s composed facade. “Yes. Alive, though not unharmed. And she’s not alone.” Something in his tone catches my attention. “She’s with a rogue wolf. Male. Says he helped her escape.”
Ryker stiffens, his hand finding mine and squeezing tight. Through our bond, I feel a storm of emotions—relief about Lithia, rage at whatever was done to his second, and wary suspicion about this unknown male.
