Page 61 of Wolf's Reckoning
I leaned in, voice like velvet soaked in venom. “Are you disappointed I said I didn’t want to fuck you, princess?”
Her breath hitched. Just once. Then she lifted her chin. “Not at all. But you saying it out loud now makes it sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
Goddess, she was fire. Every word she threw at me only lit the fuse shorter.
I stared down at her, jaw tight. “Careful,” I warned, voice low. “You don’t want to bait something you’re not ready to handle.”
“I’ve been handling wolves like you my entire life.”
“Not like me.”
Her pulse jumped at her throat. Her scent shifted—heat and fury, stubborn and sweet—and I nearly cursed.
“I’vehandledyou before, remember?”
It was a taunt. A reminder of the past, and it made my blood boil. Not because she was right. But because I was close to proving her wrong.
My knuckles brushed across her cheekbone, and she looked up at me, eyes wide. “You’re going to regret that, princess.” I stepped back. “I accept your terms: if I’m fucking someone, I’m only fucking you.” I smirked when I saw her eyes widen at what she’d basically demanded. “Same for you, princess. It’s me inside you or no one.” I let that settle for a second. She was still looking at me in a mix of confusion and wariness. “Tell your father and the druid I accept.”
Rowen gaped at me. “Wh-what?”
“We’ll be married in the morning,” I told her as I walked away. “Wear a dress. You turn up in combat pants,I’ll strip you naked and have you on your knees begging for my forgiveness.”
“What?” I heard her shriek. “Wolfe!” I heard her hit something. “I’m not wearing a fucking dress, asshole!” she shouted behind me.
I didn’t reply, just left her with the sound of my laughter.
I was still smirking by the time I made it past the packlands’ outer ring. Her voice had echoed after me—loud, pissed off, gloriously unfiltered. Goddess, I wanted to bottle it.
“I’m not wearing a fucking dress!”Yeah, she would because she didn’t know me well enough anymore to know if I was bluffing. I knew one thing as I heard her rage behind me, she’d show up burning.
That’s all I needed. Not her compliance. Not her sweetness, if she had any left. Just her presence.
Because tomorrow morning, the pack would wake up and see what strength looked like. They’d see Rowen standing next to me, not because she was claimed—but because she hadchosen. And whether she wore silk or steel, it wouldn’t matter.
The choice would still be hers. But the power? That would bemine.
I didn’t go back to my rooms. Couldn’t settle tonight, I knew that. The pack hall walls were too small, the silence too heavy. Instead, I walked the border—circling the perimeter like a wolf with a bone-deep itch. Reminding myself that this wasn’t about her. It wasn’t about me, either.
This was about stability. Packs didn’t thrive under uncertainty. They followed the strongest one in the room—and I’djust made damn sure that was me. Even if it meant tying myself to a woman who wanted to rip my throat out.
A flicker of movement caught my eye. A young Hollow wolf darted between trees, probably doing patrol. He saw me and paused. Nodded once. Kept going.
That was new. Respect. Acceptance. I wasn’t sure I liked how much I needed it tonight.
I hadn’t come here to be a savior. But now that everything had changed, I wasn’t interested in saving everyone, only the ones smart enough to stand behind me when the shit hit. Itwascoming. The rogue pack, if that’s what they were. The unrest. The whispers between packs.
This marriage was a distraction. But it was also a shield. A symbol for the pack that needed that.
If Rowen wanted to test me? Fine. Because when she finally stepped up beside me, dress or not—I wanted her wild. I wanted herangrybecause it’s the wolves who fight the hardest that lead the longest.
And I was done playing nice.
I woke early.It wasn’t because I was excited—hell no—but because my wolf wouldn’t shut the fuck up. It kept pacing. Snarling. Restless, like we were about to walk into battle, not a bonding ceremony. But considering my wife-to-be was Rowen, maybe there wasn’t a difference. Because standing next to Rowen in front of her pack wasn’t a wedding.
It was a fucking challenge.
One I had to win. This wasn’t about tradition or vows or some twisted fairy-tale redemption arc.
