Page 25 of Curses and Casualties
Sensing the gravity of the moment, I lower myself to the ground, allowing Georgia to slide off my back. She does so with a mix of reluctance and understanding, her hand lingering in my fur for a moment longer.
“I suppose it’s time for you to put your human face back on,” she says.
I nod my large wolf head, then shift back. The change is harder this time—as if the magic of this place wants to keep me in my wolf shape. It’s disorienting, like swimming against a strong current, but I manage it quickly. In moments, I’m standing on two legs again, and the backpack Ethan was carrying for us lands at my feet.
“Make yourself decent, man,” he teases, and I thank him before quickly pulling on my clothes. When I’m done, I shoulder the pack and reach for Georgia’s hand.
“Ready?” I ask, looking not just at Georgia but at our entire group.
Scarlett and Ethan nod, their postures tense but determined. I notice Scarlett’s hand hovering near her hip where she likely has a knife, while Ethan’s muscles are coiled tight, ready to shift at a moment’s notice.
Darius and Amara exchange a glance, a silent conversation passing between them.
“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Amara says finally, turning back to face the path ahead. “Remember, let me do the talking at first. The Úlfhéðnar respect old alliances, and while they may not welcome us with open arms, they should at least hear us out.”
With a collective deep breath, we step forward, crossing the invisible threshold into Úlfhéðnar territory. The air seems to shimmer around us, and I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched from every shadow, every rustling leaf. The eyes I glimpsed earlier multiply, with dozens of them now, tracking our every move.
A shiver runs down my spine. Through the memories Kane and I share, I know of stories about the Úlfhéðnar—tales of massive wolves, more beast than man, guardians of ancient magics and keepers of forgotten lore. They’re callous and brutal, rumored to rip apart those who trespass without regard. But they are also deeply honorable, bound by codes as old as the mountains under which they reside.
We continue deeper into the woods, our steps muffled by the mossy undergrowth. The deeper we go, the more palpable the silence becomes, as if even the forest knows not to disturb the sanctity of this ancient place.
A twig cracks not far from us and Darius jerks his head toward the sound. “They’re close. They’ll have known we’re here from the moment we crossed into their lands.”
“What should we expect?” I ask, my grip on Georgia tightening, my need to protect her clawing against the inside of my skin.
“Expect them to challenge us,” he replies, his voice low and eyes wary. “But if they decide we’re a threat...” His brow furrows, and he doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t need to.
Amara steps forward, her eyes glowing silver as she raises her hands, palms facing outward, and begins to chant in a language I don’t recognize. The air around us thickens and shimmers. “Say nothing unless addressed directly,” Darius whispers, his gaze fixed on the shifting shadows between the dense trees.
We all fall silent, watching as the atmosphere around Amara pulses with power. Her chanting grows louder, her voice reverberating in a cadence that feels like it speaks directly to this forest.
The shadows still, and for a moment, nothing happens.
Then, a howl splits the air—deep, primal, and unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. It’s answered by another, thenanother, until the mountains themselves seem to vibrate with the sound.
Georgia’s grip on my arm tightens. “Ryan,” she whispers, a tremor in her voice.
I look down.
And her eyes glow.
Not with our bond’s golden warmth, but a fierce silver that hits me like a lightning strike.
Luna.
Mate awakens,Kane says with something like reverence.This place calls to her.
Before I can react, a massive shape emerges from the mist ahead. A wolf, larger than any I’ve ever seen, its fur a mix of steel gray and snow white. Its eyes, a startling shade of amber, fix on us with an intelligence that’s unmistakably human.
Behind it, more shapes appear—an entire pack of these giant wolves, their collective presence so overwhelming that even with my alpha instincts, I almost tilt my head to bare my throat in submission. I see Scarlett take a step back, her face pale, while Ethan’s hand goes to his chest as if he can’t breathe.
The lead wolf—easily the size of a small car—takes a step forward. Its form shimmers and shifts until he stands on two feet, tall and broad-shouldered, his wolfish features softened into something more human yet still distinctly otherworldly. His gaze remains locked on Georgia, piercing and unblinking.
“Who dares to enter the realm of the Úlfhéðnar?”
Chapter 11
Georgia
