Fenrir’s POV
The northern trail was a brutal, unforgiving stretch of jagged stone and biting frost, but to me, it felt like a victory march.
I rode at the head of the Vanguard column, my massive warhorse carving a path through the knee-deep snow of the high mountain pass. The freezing wind whipped at my fur-lined cloak, carrying the crisp, sterile scent of pine and ice, but my mind was entirely consumed by the lingering ghost of rosewater, sweat, and the coppery tang of my own blood.
Mate, Raze purred in the dark recesses of my mind. My inner beast was pacing, a restless, massive shadow prowling against the edges of my consciousness. Marked. Claimed. Ours.
“Yes,” I murmured under my breath, my thumb tracing the leather reins.
Leaving Lyra at the castle had gone against every primal in
