Chapter 47.
828 Words
The silence that followed the mercenary’s whimpering removal was thick and heavy, punctuated only by the distant, receding crunch of Kael's boots as he dragged the trespasser toward the holding cells. Fenris remained anchored to the spot, a statue of corded muscle and raw, golden intent. Malphas was no longer a whisper in his mind; he was a roar, a frantic, territorial scream demanding that he snatch Rhiannon from the shadows and hide her in the deepest, safest cavern of the mountain for the rest of their lives.
Rhiannon, however, was no longer the trembling girl who needed hiding.
The adrenaline of the take-down had settled into a cool, humming confidence. She knew the man had intended to break her; she knew he hadn't held back, and yet, she was the one standing over the silver. With a newfound fluidity, she stepped toward Fenris.
He went rigid. Every muscle in his body coiled like a spring under extreme tension, his eyes tracking her every movement with the unblinking, predatory focus of a hawk. The closer she got, the more his restraint seemed to strain, a visible battle between the Alpha's discipline and the wolf's hunger.
She stopped directly in front of him. Her breathing, once a frantic mess of gasps, was now steady- a sharp contrast to Fenris, whose chest heaved as he fought to keep his feet planted.
"You did good," he huffed out, the words sounding like they were being dragged over gravel. His gaze was molten, shimmering with a pride so fierce it was almost painful to look at.
Rhiannon didn't shy away from the heat. Instead, she gave him a small, weary smile. Slowly, deliberately, she reached out. Her hands settled on his waist, her fingers brushing the leather of his belt before she inched closer, closing the gap until she disappeared into the shadow of his chest.
She leaned into him, her forehead resting against the middle of his chest, and let out a long, shuddering breath.
The effect was instantaneous. The beast in Fenris didn't go away, but it stopped screaming. The hug acted like a sedative, the tension in his shoulders finally snapping as his arms came up to tentatively hover behind her back, afraid that if he squeezed too hard, he might break the very miracle he was holding. As they touched, that familiar, sharp electric bolt sparked between them, a current that surged through their skin and settled deep within them.
"Thank you," she whispered into the fabric of his shirt. "For the dagger. For the lessons. For... everything."
She felt him swallow hard, his heart thudding against her temple like a war drum. For a moment, the world was just the two of them and the scent of frost and cedar. But then, Rhiannon pulled back. The contact was becoming too much- the pull was growing too loud, too demanding for her newly minted sense of self.
"But I learned something tonight," she said, looking up at him as she stepped out of his reach. "I need more training."
Fenris blinked, his golden eyes flickering with confusion as his arms dropped heavily to his sides. "But you took him down, Rhia. You were faster than a seasoned mercenary. You won."
"I hesitated," she said, her voice dropping. "When I first saw him, for a heartbeat, I was back in that room in the South. I was a thing again. If he had been a second faster, or if there had been two of them... I wouldn't have moved."
The gold in Fenris’s eyes swirled, softening into a deep, respectful amber. He understood. It wasn't just about the blade; it was about the mind. The scars of ten years weren't going to vanish because of one successful fight.
He gave her a slow, solemn nod, his composure finally settling back into the rigid mask of the Alpha.
"Then we train more," he promised. "We train until the memory of the blow is replaced by the certainty of the counter. We train until you don't even have to think about being the owner of your skin."
Rhiannon nodded, her hand absently going to the silver hilt at her thigh. The moon was high now, and though the hunters were still in the foothills, the mountain felt a little more like home, and a little less like a fortress.
"Tomorrow at dawn?" she asked.
"At dawn," Fenris replied.
As she walked back toward the Great Hall, Fenris stayed in the garden, watching her until she disappeared. He looked down at his waist where her hands had rested, the heat of her touch still searing through his clothes. He had the time, he had told her. But as he watched her go, he realized that "the time" was going to be the hardest thing he had ever had to endure.
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