Page 15 of His Claim
For the first time since he dragged me into this room, his expression softened.
He leaned in slightly as his eyes caught mine in their gaze. “Varek Dain.”
The name hit me like a hammer to the chest.
I’d heard it before, whispered in the dark cells, traded like a rumor among the other girls. Varek Dain, the commander. The ruthless one. The soldier who never lost, who never flinched, who’d tear out a man’s throat without blinking. The girls had said his name with fear, with awe, with the certainty that he was the worst of them.
And now he stood in front of me, his eyes burning silver fire, telling me I was his.
I sucked in an audible gasp, my heart thundering against my ribs.
“Varek Dain,” I whispered, almost choking on the words. “I’ve heard about you.”
“You’ve heard the worst of me, I’m sure,” he said, with something that almost sounded like disdain for his own reputation. “And some of it’s true. I’ve killed. I’ve led wolves into battles most wouldn’t walk out of. I’ve done things that keep me awake late at night.”
I clenched my fists. “Then they were right.”
He didn’t argue. Instead, he took another slow step closer, his hands still loose at his sides, nothing threatening in hismovements. “But I’m not the monster they want you to believe either.”
I wanted to laugh in his face, but my derision stuck in my throat. He’d just marked me. Fucked me. Claimed me. And now he wanted to play gentle?
Before I could spit the thought at him, he turned slightly and gestured to the far wall of the room, to a narrow counter that had been built from scavenged metal and old wood. On it were a hot plate and some dented cookware, a few chipped glasses and dishes, a couple of utensils, and canned goods.
He moved toward it with unhurried steps, and after a hesitation I briefly questioned myself for, I followed, wrapping the shreds of my skimpy hospital gown around me.
He poured water into a chipped glass and set it on the counter in front of me. Then he went to his pack, rummaging through it until he found a long, dark button-up shirt, one of his and handed it to me without a word. It smelled faintly of smoke and pine, was soft and a little bit worn at the edges. After that, he reached for a small tin and pulled out strips of some kind of jerky, laying them beside the glass.
“Eat,” he said simply. “Drink. You need it.”
I stared at the offerings, then at him. My throat was raw with thirst, my stomach knotted with hunger, but my suspicion burned hotter. “Why?” I demanded. “Why pretend to care?”
His eyes softened, just barely. “You’re mine, Mariah, and that means you won’t starve in my presence. I take care of what’s mine.”
The sound of my name on his lips made my skin prickle. I hated how right it felt, how gentle he sounded compared to every other wolf I’d ever met.
I looked down at the water. My hand trembled as I reached for it, but I didn’t let him see. The first sip almost burned my throat, cool and sweet, and only then did I realize how dry my mouth had been.
I hated him. I hated that I needed what he gave me, but as I chewed the jerky, as the salty meat and fat steadied me, I couldn’t stop my eyes from flicking back to him. I took another drink of the water next and it slid down my throat, settling in the pit of my stomach. The jerky was tough, but it was food, and I hated how hungrily I chewed.
He leaned against the counter across from me, arms folded, watching me with those knowing silver eyes.
I set the glass down hard, the sound loud in the silence. My voice cracked when I forced the words out, but I couldn’t keep them in any longer.
“Why me?”
His brow furrowed.
I stared at him, my throat tight. “Why did you mark me? Out of everyone—why me? Was I just convenient? Some experiment you wanted to claim before the others dragged me away?”
I hated how small my voice sounded, hated the way my chest ached when I asked it, but I needed the answer. Needed to know if I was just another human body to him.
For a moment, he didn’t speak. His jaw worked, his gaze dropping to the counter like he was choosing his words one byone. Then he pushed off from the wall and deliberately stepped closer.
When he spoke, his voice was deep and steady. “Because the second I saw you, I knew.”
My stomach twisted, hot and cold all at once. “Knew what?”
His eyes met mine, silver bright and unflinching. “That you were my mate. That no Council, no soldier, no drug could change that. It wasn’t choice, Mariah. It was instinct. It was… fate.”
