Page 33 of Wolf of the Storm
We stay tangled together as her contentment drifts through the bond, mixed with lingering curiosity and the first stirrings of exhaustion. I'm mapping the freckles on her shoulder with my fingertips when I feel it—a shift in the wards. Not a breach, but a presence testing them. Familiar, but unwelcome.
My body tenses automatically, and Eliza picks up on it immediately. Through the bond, I feel her shift from contentment to alert concern in an instant. "What's wrong?"
"Someone's at the wards," I tell her, already sliding out of bed and reaching for my jeans. "Someone who knows better than to be here right now."
She sits up, pulling the sheet with her, and her spike of wariness pulses through our connection. "Is it dangerous?"
"Not to you. Not while I'm here." I pause, pulling on my shirt. "But it's going to be complicated."
Through the bond, her determination overrides her wariness. That reporter's instinct—never back down from a story. "Then I guess it's time for me to meet your pack."
I look at her—rumpled and marked and absolutely fearless—and feel a surge of possessive pride. "Not the pack," I correct. "Just my sister. And she's going to have a lot of questions."
Eliza's eyes light up with interest rather than intimidation. Through the bond, I feel her curiosity spike. "Your sister? You didn't mention you had a sister.”
I cross back to the bed, stealing one more kiss before this moment of peace is shattered. "She's the pack's best hunter," I murmur against her lips. "She's protective of pack secrets, but Jax—my beta, my most trusted ally—he's the one with the strongest feelings about humans learning what we are."
"Oh." Her quick mind processes this immediately. Through the bond, I feel her putting the pieces together. "So if she's here now, barely an hour after you claimed me..."
"It means someone else knows what I've done." I help her dress, feeling her nervous anticipation flutter through the bond like a trapped bird. "It means the pack knows."
She catches my expression as she pulls her shirt over her head, and I watch that fearless determination settle over her features. My mate. Mine to protect now, whether the pack accepts her or not.
"Your sister can wait five more minutes," Eliza says, reading the conflict on my face—or feeling it through the bond. She crosses to me, rising on her toes to press a kiss to my jaw. "But she shouldn't have to. I'm ready when you are."
I catch her hand, pressing it against the steady thrum of my heart. Through the bond, her resolve flows into me, her trust, her absolute certainty in her choice. And beneath that, a hint of nerves she's trying to hide.
Tessa's presence pulses against my wards like a heartbeat—patient but insistent. Impatient, even for her.
I take Eliza's hand and lead her toward the door. "Stay close to me. Let me do the talking at first. Tessa can be..." I search for the right word.
"Protective?" Eliza supplies.
"Territorial," I correct. "But she's family. She'll understand."
Even as I say it, I'm not sure I believe it. Because bringing a human into pack business, claiming a human mate without consulting the pack first—these aren't small transgressions. These are the kind of decisions that start wars.
But when I look down at Eliza, at the claiming mark on her throat and the courage in her eyes—courage I can feel thrumming through our bond now—I know I'd do it all again.
The pack will have to adjust. Because she's mine now, and that's not changing.
Not for anyone.
CHAPTER 9
ELIZA
Tessa MacRae is not what I expected.
She strides through the door Declan opens with the confidence of someone who belongs everywhere she goes. Tall—maybe five-ten—with dark hair pulled back in a practical braid and storm-grey eyes that match her brother's. She's wearing tactical pants, boots that have seen serious use, and a leather jacket that's been patched in multiple places. There's a crossbow slung across her back.
A crossbow. On a shifter. The irony isn't lost on me.
Her gaze goes straight to the claiming mark on my throat, and something dangerous flashes across her face. Declan tenses beside me, his protective instincts flaring along our connection.
"You claimed her." Her voice is flat. "Without consulting the pack. Without preparation. Without...”
"Without asking permission," Declan finishes, his tone carrying an edge of command that makes me suddenly aware of exactly how much power he holds as alpha. "Because I don't need permission to claim my mate."
