Page 22 of Wolf of the Storm
"Stay there," I tell her. "Don't move. Don't run. Just watch."
Then I let go.
The mist rises around me, silvery and alive in the dawn light. It swirls up from the ground, wraps around me like living fog. For a heartbeat, I'm lost in it, caught between forms. The shift sweeps through me—quick, seamless, natural as breathing.
When the mist clears, I'm on four legs instead of two. Paws instead of hands. A muzzle full of fangs, a coat of dark fur. I'm larger in wolf form than any natural wolf has a right to be—the size of a small horse, all muscle and predator grace.
I turn to face her. See her through wolf eyes. She's frozen on the porch, one hand pressed to her mouth, tears streaming down her face. But she's not running. She's not screaming.
She's staring at me like I'm the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.
I take a step closer. Then another. Move with deliberate care, keeping my head low, non-threatening. When I reach the porch steps, I lower myself further. Crouch. Then bow, pressing my chest to the ground in a posture that honors her.
Because this is my mate. And before my mate, even an alpha bows.
"Declan?" Her voice cracks. "Is that... are you still in there?"
I huff out a breath. Can't speak in this form, but I can communicate. I tilt my head, meet her eyes, let her see the human intelligence looking back at her from behind wolf eyes.
She approaches me slowly, cautiously. But coming closer instead of backing away. When she reaches me, she kneels, and suddenly we're eye to eye. Her hand lifts again, that same tentative touch, but this time she's reaching for fur instead of skin.
Her fingers sink into the thick ruff at my neck. Gentle. Reverent. Like she's touching something holy.
"I'm not afraid of you," she breathes. Tears still stream down her face, but there's wonder in her voice. Awe. "I'm afraid of how much I want this to be real."
The mist swirls up again, and I shift back. Almost instantaneous—one moment wolf, the next moment kneeling in front of her in human form, naked and breathing hard and completely at her mercy.
"It's real." My voice is hoarse. "All of it. What ties us together. The pack. The magic. It's all real, Eliza. And you're standing in the middle of it, whether you planned to or not."
Her hand is still in my hair. She hasn't pulled back. Hasn't run. Her eyes search mine, and I see the moment she makes her choice. See the fear and logic lose to the pull neither of us can control.
"My aunt lived here for more than forty years," she says quietly. "Among you. Among all of this. And she survived. Thrived, even."
"Your aunt was extraordinary." I lean into her touch, can't help myself. "She understood what most humans never will. That we're not monsters. We're just... different. And difference doesn't mean danger."
"But there is danger." Not a question. "You keep warning me about threats. About things stirring up. About people worse than you."
"Yes." I won't lie to her. Can't, now that I've shown her the truth. "Your presence here is connected to old magic. Ancientforces that have been sleeping. I don't know why yet, or what they want, but I know you're part of it. And I know I'll die before I let anything hurt you."
She's quiet for a long moment. The sun continues to rise behind us, painting everything in gold. Finally, she speaks.
"I should run. Get the first ferry back to the mainland and then on a flight to London and forget any of this happened."
My heart stops. "I know."
"I should write this up. Break the story of the century. Document everything, expose it all to the world."
"I know." The words taste like ash.
"But I'm not going to do either of those things." Her hand tightens in my hair. "Because you're right. I've felt this since the moment I saw you. This pull. This recognition. And I don't understand it, and it terrifies me, but I also know...” She stops, swallows hard. "I know I have to see where this goes. Even if it destroys me."
The relief that crashes through me is almost painful. I surge forward, catch her face in my hands, rest my forehead against hers. "It won't destroy you. I swear it. I'll protect you from everything. Including myself, if that's what it takes."
"Don't." Her breath ghosts across my lips. "Don't protect me from you. That's the one thing I don't want."
She closes the distance. Kisses me with a fierceness that surges through my blood. I kiss her back, pour everything into it—the need, the bone-deep certainty that this woman is mine and I am hers and nothing else matters.
When we break apart, we're both breathless. The mate bond strengthens between us, fed by acceptance and choice and the beginning of something that will either save us both or destroy everything.
