The forest never slept.
Even in the dead of night, the ancient trees whispered secrets to each other — of prey and predators, of blood spilled under starlight. Aria walked through the underbrush alone, her cloak drawn tight, belly still flat but already sacred, every step heavier than the last.
Ryker trailed her in silence.
He hadn't said a word in the hour since she'd stormed from the tavern. And yet, he hadn't left. He was just there, a shadow in the trees, a pulse on her skin. Always two steps behind, always watching. And she hated how her body noticed him — the deep hum of his magic, the clean scent of pine and wolf, the way her heart jumped when his gaze lingered too long.
"You don't need to follow me," she said finally.
"I do."
She stopped. Turned. "No, you don't. This isn't your problem."
His eyes gleamed silver in the moonlight. "It is now."
A low growl rippled through the night — not from him. From somewhere deeper in the trees.
Ryker's head snapped toward it. His entire body tensed.
"Not safe here," he said. "You smell like prey."
"You say that like it's my fault."
"It is."
That earned him a glare. But before she could retort, he stepped in front of her, his body a wall of heat.
"You're carrying a wolf's child. Your scent has changed. You don't smell fully human anymore. And you're glowing."
"I'm what?"
"Your magic. I can see it."
She clenched her jaw. "So what, you want me to hide in a cave while you patrol the forest like some… overbearing alpha?"
He didn't answer.
"Gods, you're impossible," she muttered, turning away.
She didn't see the flicker of pain that passed through his eyes.
They reached the river at dawn. Aria sat by the water's edge, her bare feet in the stream, rubbing her temples. Ryker paced behind her like a caged beast, refusing to sit.
"Stop hovering."
"I'm not hovering."
"You're breathing too loud. It's hovering."
A low rumble came from him — annoyance, amusement. She wasn't sure.
"Where are you going?" he asked after a long silence.
"I don't know yet. Somewhere quiet. I have friends who can shelter me."
"Humans?"
She glared. "Yes, and what of it?"
He crossed his arms. "The child isn't human. You won't be safe among them. She'll shift before her first year."
"That's impossible."
His eyes were solemn. "Not for wolves like me."
A chill ran through her. "What are you, Ryker?"
He looked away. "Something old. Something cursed."
She stood. "That's not an answer."
"I was born in the Blood Moons. Raised in a pack that hunted men and gods alike. My mother was killed for birthing me. My father tried to drown me when I was three."
Her throat went tight. "Why?"
"Because I wasn't born with a mark. They thought I was soulless."
"But you're… alive."
"Barely."
The confession hung between them like smoke.
She reached for his hand without thinking. He flinched but didn't pull away.
Their fingers brushed.
Heat flared.
Dangerous. Intimate.
She yanked her hand back.
"Don't touch me like that unless you mean it," he said hoarsely.
"I didn't mean to—"
"Then don't."
But his voice wasn't cruel. Just… wounded.
Aria backed away. "I don't know what you want from me, Ryker."
He stared at her. "I don't either."
They set up camp in the ruins of an old temple. The stone arches were overgrown with vines, the air thick with ancient magic. Aria found comfort in the structure — something old and sacred, untouched by time.
She sat near the fire, warming her hands. Ryker leaned against a pillar, sharpening a dagger. Always watching. Always waiting.
"You're not sleeping?"
He didn't answer.
"You don't trust me?"
He looked at her. "I don't trust myself."
That startled her.
"Why?"
He rose, stalking toward her like a predator circling prey.
She didn't back down.
"You're fire," he said. "And I've spent my whole life burning things down."
She held his gaze. "Maybe I want to be burned."
His nostrils flared.
She should've stopped. Should've swallowed the heat pulsing low in her belly. But she didn't. Couldn't.
She stood and stepped into his space.
"You left a mark on me," she whispered. "And now I'm stuck with it. So if you're going to haunt me, Ryker, do it properly."
His hands gripped her waist.
"Don't start something you can't finish," he growled.
"Then finish it."
He kissed her
And gods, it was even worse this time.
Because it wasn't just lust.
It was fury. Regret. Hunger. Need.
He pushed her against the stone, his hands under her shirt, dragging it over her head. Her fingers fumbled with his belt. Their mouths never broke.
The fire crackled behind them.
His body was a furnace.
His teeth grazed her throat.
"You still want me?" he rasped.
"Yes."
Even as he lifted her, even as he bit down just below her shoulder — harder this time — she arched into him, every inch of her screaming yes.
He laid her down on his coat, lips trailing down her belly.
Paused.
"You're sure?"
She looked at him, sweat glistening on her skin. "I'm not made of glass."
That was all he needed.
He worshipped her.
This time, he was slower. Still rough, still dominant — but reverent. Like she was a shrine he hadn't known how to pray to.
He didn't just take her.
He claimed her.
And when she cried out his name, back arching, nails clawing at stone, he followed her into that madness — and kissed her like he never wanted to come back.
Afterward, they lay tangled together, his head on her chest, listening to her heart. Her fingers toyed with his hair.
"You didn't leave this time," she murmured.
"I couldn't."
"Why not?"
He didn't answer for a long time.
Then, quietly: "Because I'm not the same man who met you in that tavern."
She froze.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I want to protect what's mine."
"You don't own me."
His eyes met hers. "But I want to earn the right to."
Aria's throat tightened.
"You really think this… whatever this is… can work?"
"I don't know." He pressed a hand over her belly. "But I'm willing to try. For her. For you."
The firelight flickered.
She kissed his forehead.
And for the first time, Ryker let himself sleep in someone's arms.
The next morning, everything changed.
They were ambushed.
Four men in red cloaks. No scent. No sound. Trained assassins.
Ryker shoved Aria behind him and shifted — his wolf form massive, silver-furred, eyes burning like stars.
The attackers used silver blades.
He bled. He tore them apart anyway.
Aria used her magic — fire lashing from her hands, her belly pulsing with strange warmth. The baby wasn't just alive — she was awake.
When it was over, Ryker was shaking.
One wound had gone too deep.
Aria pressed her hands to it, glowing. "Stay with me."
"Didn't… know I could still die for something," he rasped.
"Don't you dare."
He smiled, bloody. "You sound like my mate."
She kissed him hard. "Maybe I am."
His eyes widened.
Then closed.
He didn't die.
But something inside him did.
The man who woke up a day later wasn't the same.
He was softer. Not in body, but in soul.
He stayed close.
He cooked her food. He fetched herbs. He never let her lift anything heavy.
He stopped saying cruel things.
And once, when she woke from a nightmare, he just held her — arms wrapped around her back, his nose in her hair, whispering promises in a language she didn't know.
"I never thought I'd want a future," he said once. "Now I'm terrified of losing it."
She kissed him. "Then don't lose it."
But peace never lasts long in their world.
Word spread. A rogue alpha had bred a magicborn human.
An abomination, the elders said.
A threat to balance.
A prophecy, others whispered.
The child would be powerful. A bridge between realms.
And powerful things… must be controlled.
Or destroyed.
Aria held her belly and looked at Ryker.
"They'll come for us."
He nodded. "Let them."
She arched a brow. "You think you can stop them all?"
"No," he said. "But I'm not alone anymore."
And when he said it, he didn't just mean her.
He meant the wolf inside him.
The one that now recognized Aria not as prey.
But as pack.