Page 4 of Bite the Power
For once, her analytical mind quieted, replaced by pure instinct. This felt right. Different. Electric with possibility.
"Alright," Tessa said, surprising herself. "I'm all in."
TWO
KAIDAN
The morning light filtered through the frosted windows of Kaidan's palace office, casting crystalline patterns across the mahogany desk where territorial reports lay scattered like fallen snow. He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his considerable frame as his light blue eyes scanned the latest intelligence from his patrol units.
"Damn," he muttered, running his fingers through his golden beard as he absorbed the third report of unusual environmental activity in the past week.
The numbers painted a troubling picture. Micro-tremors registering at frequencies that shouldn't exist in their region. Glacial stress patterns that defied decades of established data. Wildlife migration routes shifting without seasonal explanation.
Deep in his chest, his polar bear stirred—not with alarm, but with something more primal. Anticipation. The beast recognized patterns his mind couldn't yet decode, sensing change approaching like the first whisper of a blizzard on still air.
Kaidan's jaw tightened as he pulled up Dr. Eli Varkov's latest transmission from the research station. The human scientist's data confirmed what his instincts already knew—their land was shifting, becoming something new. Something unstable.
"Unusual seismic readings persisting across grid sectors seven through twelve," he read aloud, his voice gravelly in the empty office. "Glacier stress fractures appearing in formations previously stable for centuries. Brief micro-storms materializing without atmospheric precursors."
The research station. Five years ago, allowing a human to establish monitoring equipment had been strategic—knowledge was power, and understanding their territory through scientific measurement strengthened their defenses. But Magnus had opposed the decision with characteristic vehemence, viewing any human presence as contamination of their pure shifter domain.
Stubborn bastard.
Magnus Rake. Even thinking the name sent irritation crawling up Kaidan's spine. Thirty years of territorial disputes hadn't dulled the edge of their rivalry. When Kaidan's father had claimed the throne and united the four clans under Frosthaven's banner, Magnus's family had been relegated to subordinate status—a humiliation the prideful shifter had never forgotten or forgiven.
Seven years of Kaidan's own rule had only deepened the resentment. Where his father had ruled through strength and intimidation, Kaidan preferred strategy and loyalty—qualities Magnus viewed as weakness.
"Your compassion will be our downfall," Magnus had snarled during their last council meeting. "A true king rules through fear, not friendship."
"A true king earns respect rather than demanding it," Kaidan had replied coolly.
Now Magnus's clan was increasing patrols near the research station—surveillance disguised as routine territory monitoring. The reports detailed unusual movement patterns, his shifterscouts lingering longer than necessary in areas they had no business patrolling.
Kaidan's bear prowled restlessly beneath his skin, recognizing the signs of an approaching challenge. Magnus perceived the human scientists as evidence of Kaidan's compromised leadership, proof that their king cared more about outside validation than shifter tradition.
Let him think that. His shortsightedness will be his weakness.
The weight of kingship pressed against his shoulders like the Arctic wind—relentless and inescapable. Four clans looked to him for protection and guidance. His council expected decisive leadership. His people needed stability in an increasingly unstable world.
And somewhere beneath all those responsibilities, his bear yearned for something more fundamental. A mate. A queen. The completion that every shifter instinctively craved but that Kaidan had been too consumed with duty to pursue.
At thirty-five, he should have claimed his mate years ago. His advisors had been dropping increasingly obvious hints, arranging meetings with eligible females from the clans. But none had stirred anything beyond polite interest. His bear remained stubbornly unimpressed, waiting for something—someone—that Kaidan couldn't identify.
The restlessness in the land seemed to echo the restlessness in his soul, as if both were building toward some inevitable convergence.
Kaidan pushed back from his desk and moved to the window, gazing out at the pristine expanse of his domain. Frosthaven stretched before him in all its frozen glory—glittering ice caves, aurora-painted skies, and the vast silence that most humans found terrifying but that filled him with profound peace.
Somewhere out there, Magnus was plotting, Dr. Varkov was recording data that painted an increasingly concerning picture, and the land itself was shifting beneath their feet.
"A storm's coming," he said to the empty room, his breath fogging the glass. "Question is, from which direction first."
His bear rumbled agreement, his muscles coiling with anticipation for whatever challenges awaited. Kaidan had faced territorial disputes, clan politics, and the constant pressure of leadership, but this felt different. Bigger. Like multiple forces converging toward a single point of crisis that would test everything he'd built over the past seven years.
He needed to increase security without appearing to escalate tensions with Magnus. Needed to decipher the meaning behind the land's unusual behavior. Needed to prepare his people for whatever was coming while maintaining the appearance of calm control. And somewhere in the back of his mind, his bear whispered that the most important challenge might not be the one he was expecting.
The sharp beep of his satellite communicator cut through the morning silence like a blade. Kaidan's eyes flicked to the device, recognizing the secure frequency.
"Kaidan, hope I'm not interrupting your brooding."
