Page 45 of Wulver's Flame
She ran from us.
He paced beneath my skin, rabid. My cock ached—not from desire, but from the savage thrill of the hunt. My knot throbbed, full and unsatisfied. She left while our seed—our pup—was still inside her.
I was a predator. And she dared to run.
Sköll burst through me, and this time, I didn’t protest.
Liùsaidh made a grave error if she thought weeks of silence were enough to break our bond. I caught her sniffing my pillows. I felt her gaze burn through me in every shared room. And by the Gods, I scented the need in her when she tried to deny us both.
I gave her space. I let her walk the longhouse, touch the bond, breathe without me. I didn’t even claim the bed when she was awake. I thought if I gave her time, she might feel it too. But she didn’t just reject the bond. She rejected our pup.
Sköll snarled.
Find her. I growled to Sköll, but he was already moving, shaking with rage that she took our pup from us. I could feel the burn of his fury, but beneath it throbbed something older—our instinct to track, catch, and punish the mate who dared to run.
???
The bond was screaming in my chest. Panic flooded through it, hot and sour. Her panic. My mate.
Sköll ran like a possessed creature, silver fangs bared, paws pounding the earth with brutal grace. The wind kissed our fur as he cut through the darkness.
Our thoughts tangled and focused on one thing.
Her.
Every scent she left behind was sharp and erratic. She was moving fast, but she was sloppy and afraid. Her fear and sweat soaked the path she ran, leaving the perfect trail for us to follow.
She’s limping, Sköll snarled. Ran too far. Too fast. Foolish mate.
We crested a rise, wind whipping through the fur on our face, and then we saw her.
Liùsaidh.
Running.
Her wild curls streamed behind her like fire in the moonlight. She darted through tall grass with one hand clutching her side. The bond pulsed—frantic, and fragile.
She turned.
Saw us.
Her eyes widened, and her body twisted in the opposite direction.
Wrong move, little mate.
Sköll howled, rage and longing fusing into a single sound that shattered the night.
She sprinted toward a lone tree at the edge of the clearing. A tall thing, gnarled and half-dead—but climbable. She reached it and scrambled up, hands slipping, feet fumbling on the bark. She wasn’t built for escape.
Let me shift, I growled.I can get her down.
Sköll didn’t answer, but he didn’t stop me.
Pain tore through me as fur gave way to skin, claws shrank, bones cracked and reformed. I stood, naked under the moon, panting, eyes blazing with fury and lust.
She was halfway up the tree, clinging to a low branch like a terrified kitten.
“Liùsaidh,” I said, voice low and sharp,“come down.”
