Storm-Called
1189 Words
🌒 Chapter Eight: Storm-Called
The next day
Ragnar had meant to leave.
He’d even managed to walk a mile from the pack borders, back into the hush of the forest where pine needles muffled his footsteps and the cold air bit at his face, trying to remind him of who he was before her.
Before the wolf.
The scent of pine and frost should have been comforting. It was the smell of every lonely night he’d spent trying to figure out who he was, lightning flickering beneath his skin whenever the world pressed too hard.
But now, all he could smell was her. The wild, sharp scent of vanilla and rain on fur, of authority and power, of something that made his blood hum in his veins.
He clenched his fists, lightning crackling over his knuckles, small sparks dancing across his skin before fading.
“I’m leaving,” he whispered to the empty forest.
But his feet didn’t move.
The bond throbbed beneath his ribs, alive, waiting, and Ragnar closed his eyes, dropping to his knees as a wave of longing washed over him, raw and sharp, like a wound he didn’t know how to heal.
---
Raven's pov
She didn’t know why she was out here.
The forest was cold, the dawn sky a bruised blue as frost clung to the bare branches, and every breath she took felt like knives in her lungs.
But Shadow was restless, pacing inside her, pulling her toward the treeline, toward the bond that she’d been fighting since the moment it snapped into place.
She was the Alpha. She was the Queen.
She didn’t need anyone.
Especially not a human.
And yet, here she was, boots crunching softly against the forest floor, her amber eyes scanning the shadows for a glimpse of dark hair and gray eyes.
She told herself she was checking the perimeter, scenting for rogues.
She told herself she was making sure he was gone.
But the truth was clawing at her, a truth she wasn’t ready to admit.
She wanted to see him again.
---
Ahead, the scent of sandalwood and rain hit her, stronger now, sharp enough to make her knees go weak for a moment.
“Get a grip,” she growled under her breath, Shadow rumbling in agreement, though even her wolf was restless with need.
She stepped forward, pushing past a low branch, and froze.
He was there.
On his knees in the clearing, head bowed, hands pressed to the earth as small sparks of lightning danced over his skin, flickering like fireflies in the gray dawn.
The human.
---
Ragnar's pov:
He looked up, his gray eyes meeting hers across the clearing, and for a heartbeat, the world stilled.
“Why can’t I leave?” he asked, voice raw, desperate.
Her breath caught, claws pricking at her fingertips as the bond snapped taut between them.
“Because you’re an i***t,” she snapped, forcing herself to take a step back.
His eyes darkened, lightning flaring across his shoulders before fading. “That’s not it.”
She swallowed hard, hating the way her heart was racing, the way her wolf howled in triumph just seeing him.
“You need to leave,” she said, voice low, trying to keep it steady.
“I can’t,” he whispered.
---
The Pack
Back at the compound, the warriors moved like single living creatures.
“Rogues near the west ridge again,” Levi mind-linked, Devdas pacing beneath his skin.
“Figures,” Freya replied, wiping sweat from her brow as she sheathed her blades. Her wolf, Willow, was calm, but there was an edge to her posture as she scanned the tree line.
Luca adjusted his gloves, his dark eyes flicking toward the east. “Where’s Raven?”
“With the human,” Loki replied, smirking, “Or near him.”
“Think she’ll kill him yet?” Camilla joked, tying back her hair, Sable rumbling beneath her skin.
“Or mate him,” Harvey added, drawing a sharp laugh from Louise, who was brushing mud from her boots, Ember quiet but curious.
Luca shot them all a glare. “Enough. We hold the line. Rogues don’t care about mate drama.”
“Yeah, but it makes patrol less boring,” Archer muttered, rolling his shoulders, Gunnar huffing.
A loud howl cut through the air, sharp, broken.
“Positions,” Luca ordered.
---
Raven's pov:
The bond flared inside her, a warning, and she snapped her head toward the compound, catching the echo of that broken howl.
“Rogues,” she said, eyes narrowing.
Ragnar stood, his breath misting, fists clenching.
“I can help.”
“No.”
“You can’t keep me out of this, wolf.”
“Watch me.”
The tension crackled, lightning sparking on his skin, Shadow clawing at hers.
Another howl, closer.
---
The Rogues
They came out of the forest like shadows, eyes glowing with madness, snarls tearing from their throats as they lunged for the warriors holding the perimeter.
Levi shifted mid-leap, Devdas tearing into the first rogue, blood spraying across the snow.
Freya moved like a phantom, knives flashing, Willow guiding her movements.
Loki’s dark brown wolf, rolled a rogue into the mud, snapping its neck with brutal efficiency.
Harvey and Archer worked back to back, Oren and Gunnar moving in perfect sync.
But there were too many.
---
Ragnar & Raven
“Stay here,” Raven ordered, shifting smoothly into Shadow, her massive black wolf form landing on the frost with a growl.
“Wolf—” Ragnar called, stepping forward.
She didn’t look back.
She couldn’t.
She charged into the clearing, claws raking across the first rogue’s throat, howls and snarls echoing through the cold dawn.
Ragnar stood frozen, lightning flickering across his skin as the bond screamed at him to move, to follow, to protect.
But he didn’t.
Not yet.
Meanwhile the battle raged, the warriors moving with deadly precision, but the rogues kept coming, driven by madness.
Shadow tore into another rogue, blood coating her fur as she spun, coordinating with Luca’s wolf to take down a massive brute with a single, perfect strike.
“Left!” Loki’s mind-link snapped.
“On it,” Levi replied.
Ragnar clenched his fists, feeling every hit Shadow took as a phantom pain in his own body, the bond raw, alive.
Lightning crackled across his skin, brighter now, as if the storm inside him was waking up.
When the last rogue fell, the world was silent, save for the ragged breathing of the warriors, the snow stained red beneath them.
Shadow shifted back into Raven, blood dripping from her hands, amber eyes scanning the field as she threw on her clothes.
And there he was.
Standing at the edge of the clearing, piercing gray eyes locked on hers, lightning dancing over his skin.
The human.
Her mate.
And as the warriors began to gather the dead and treat the wounded, Raven met his gaze, the bond flaring between them like a promise.
She didn’t know his name.
And he didn’t know hers.
But it didn’t matter.
Not anymore.
- Writer
