No Caging Me

Excuse You

My silver-white head whipped around, my ears pinned back as I snapped my jaws toward the treeline. A low, defensive rumble vibrated in my chest as my body turned and my hackles rose. My Fae instincts were already on high alert from Silas’s attack, and now a massive, overwhelming presence was charging straight for us. I was not about to be blindsided twice in one day.

​But as the crashing grew louder, I paused. My nostrils flared, drawing in the air. (Oh... Oh my. That smells so good. What is that?)

​Underneath the scent of pulverized wood and pine needles was something else—something that tasted like home, yet felt entirely alien. It was a tug, gentle and persistent, pulling at the center of my chest. To me, it wasn't an iron chain; it was a thin, silken thread, a light curiosity that beckoned me to stay still.

To Riker it felt like his entire being was finally being pulled in by gravity.

​Confused, the my wolf’s aggression ebbed away. I didn't shift back, but I sat back on my haunches, my head tilting sharply to the left. I looked less like a mythical predator and more like a puzzled cub, my golden eyes wide as I waited to see what was causing that strange, rhythmic thrum in my blood.

​Aiden stood frozen beside mr, his breath hitching. He looked at the devastation in the forest—the literal path of destruction—and then back at the supposed "runt" sitting calmly in the dirt.

​"What the hell..." Aiden whispered, his hand instinctively moving to Hexianna’s silver shoulder, though he didn't quite dare touch her yet. "Is that... a Royal? Why is a Lycan tearing down our border for a spar?"

​Then, Riker exploded into the clearing.

​He didn't slow down. He didn't offer a diplomat’s greeting. In his Lycan form, he was a mountain of dark, powerful muscle and shadowed fur, his eyes glowing like twin embers in the shade of the canopy.

(Holy cow... he smells good and he's hot!) I groan through the pack bond. Aidan flushes and prays to god that Riker is in a patient mood. I've clearly lost my mind.

​Unlike me, Riker wasn't confused. He didn't have to tilt his head or sniff twice. The moment his gaze locked onto the silver wolf sitting in the middle of the training ground, his entire world narrowed down to a single point. Every instinct he possessed—the order, the structure, the Lycan dominance—aligned into one singular, undeniable command:

​Mine.

​He skidded to a halt, the dirt flying up around his massive paws. He didn't look at Silas, who was still groaning on the ground. He didn't look at Aiden, who was standing protectively (and foolishly) near me.

​Riker’s Lycan let out a sound that wasn't a growl and wasn't a howl. It was a deep, resonant vibration of recognition. He took a step toward me, his movements heavy with a possessiveness so thick it made the surrounding wolves cower. He was a king who had finally found his crown, and he looked ready to kill anyone who even breathed the same air as me.

Aiden froze unsure of what to do. If he stepped in the way he was probably going to be put into the arms of the goddess by force. If he touched me he was going to get ripped to shreds. He knew that look on males. That was the look of bond snapping into place, bond struck. He looked at me from the corner of his eye. Sure, I looked curious but not bond struck. His brows furrowed as he pondered.

​I just blinked at Riker, my tail giving a single, hesitant twitch. The Fae in me was intrigued by the intensity, but my wolf was simply wondering why this giant, terrifyingly handsome beast looked like he was about to eat me—or worship me. I raised my wolfie eyebrow at him in questioning.(What a pity. He's obviously as dumb as my future alpha. Aiden? What do idiots want when they look at you like you're somewhere between a meal and a saint? Honestly, it's creeping me out as much as it is amusing me. I'm stuck between biting him first or licking my lips and winking.) Aiden couldn't help the snort and then the laugh that escaped him. He finally, and stupidly, put his hand on me to keep from falling over.