The days that followed their flight through the forest were wrapped in a kind of fragile magic.
They stayed hidden, deeper than any human dared to travel. The ruins had long since been swallowed by earth and time — a buried temple of forgotten gods that pulsed faintly with protection. Aria thought of it as a womb, cradling her, sheltering her unborn child, and maybe even Ryker.
Because he had changed.
She saw it in the little things: the way he handed her dried fruit without speaking, his touch lingering on her wrist longer than needed. The way he'd disappear into the woods at dawn and return with rabbit or fish, sometimes fresh flowers braided into his dark, untamed hair — though he'd never say where he learned to do it.
He still didn't smile much.
But sometimes, when he looked at her — especially when she was reading or humming under her breath — something in his eyes softened.
Aria wasn't sure what frightened her more: the outside world hunting her… or the way she wanted to trust him.
"You're staring," she said one afternoon, stretched across mossy stone with a book half-open on her chest.
Ryker didn't look away. "You hum when you read."
She raised a brow. "I wasn't humming."
"You were."
"Well, it's not on purpose."
"It's pleasant."
That made her sit up. "Did you just compliment me?"
He looked up from the knife he was whittling. "No."
She laughed — a full, surprised laugh that made her belly flutter.
She didn't miss the way Ryker's eyes dropped there. Not with hunger, not quite. But with wonder.
"She moved this morning," she said.
He froze. "The pup?"
"She's strong." Aria took his hand and pressed it against the slight curve of her stomach. "Here."
He held his breath.
Nothing.
And then — the gentlest flutter.
He jerked slightly, as if shocked by it.
"That was her?" he asked.
Aria nodded.
He pulled his hand back like he'd touched fire.
"I didn't know I could… feel things like that."
"You mean softness?"
"I mean… hope."
The words punched something deep in her chest.
She reached for him again, and this time, he didn't flinch.
Instead, he leaned in, forehead resting against hers, the silence between them heavier than words.
"You should rest," he murmured.
"Only if you lie with me."
His eyes darkened. "You keep asking dangerous things."
"Maybe I like danger."
She kissed him — slow, sweet, but building heat. Ryker grunted softly, lifting her onto his lap without breaking the kiss. His hands slid under her tunic, reverent, possessive.
"I think I'm addicted to you," he growled against her lips.
"Good. Because I'm not letting you go."
He laid her down, tongue trailing across her skin, hands mapping her body like he was trying to memorize it.
This time, there was no violence. No desperation. Just fire. Pure, all-consuming, but steady.
Their bodies moved like they were made for it — for each other.
She whispered his name like a prayer.
And when they both shattered, tangled in sweat and breath and heartbeats, Ryker pressed his lips to her belly again.
"She's strong because of you," he said quietly. "You're the fiercest woman I've ever known."
Tears burned her eyes.
She didn't speak.
She just pulled him into her arms, and he let her hold him until the stars blinked awake.
But peace never lasted.
The attack came at dusk — as the light died and the wind stilled.
Three shapes cloaked in white, faces covered, eyes glowing faintly.
Aria felt the air change before she saw them. Magic pressed against her skin like static.
Ryker was already in wolf form when she turned — massive, silver, teeth bared in a silent snarl.
One of the intruders raised a hand. "We're not here to fight."
Ryker lunged anyway.
They fought like shadows — silent, swift. But these weren't assassins.
They were scouts.
Testing defenses.
One of them shouted something in a language Aria didn't know — and vanished in a flash of light.
The others retreated soon after, leaving Ryker bloodied but alive.
"They found us," he said, panting. "And next time, they'll come with blades."
"Who are they?"
"Seers. Elders of the White Order. They kill what they don't control."
Aria shivered. "Because of the baby?"
"Because she threatens their balance."
Ryker turned to her, blood streaking down his neck. "We have to leave."
"Where?"
"My old territory."
She froze. "Your pack?"
"They won't help us. But they'll never expect me to go back."
The journey took three days.
Through mountain paths and frost-bitten valleys, across streams that steamed with volcanic heat.
Ryker didn't let her walk more than a few miles at a time. He carried her when her legs trembled. When she tried to protest, he growled low and kissed her quiet.
"You're mine," he whispered against her ear. "Let me protect what's mine."
The possessiveness should've angered her.
But it didn't.
Because she knew what he meant.
Not ownership.
Love.
He hadn't said it yet.
But she felt it in every touch. Every glance.
They reached the edge of his old pack's land just as the moon rose full and furious.
Aria gasped.
A city of stone and fire — carved into the cliffside like an open wound. Wolves howled in the distance.
Torches lit a path of bones.
"This place is…" she trailed off.
"Cursed," Ryker finished. "But sacred."
He led her to a cave carved with runes. Magic coiled around them — protective, bitter.
"No one enters here," he said. "Not since I was exiled."
"Why?"
"Because I killed my brother in it."
Aria blinked.
"Accident?" she asked softly.
"No."
He didn't explain further.
She didn't ask.
That night, she woke to find Ryker sitting at the edge of the cave, shirtless, back scarred, staring at the moon.
"You're afraid," she said.
He nodded.
"Of them?"
"No. Of losing you."
She walked to him, wrapped his coat around his shoulders, and kissed the top of his spine.
"You won't."
He turned, eyes glowing faintly. "Marry me."
Aria blinked. "What?"
"I want to bind you. Fully. Soul to soul. Before the child is born."
"That's… serious magic."
"I know."
She studied him.
Then: "Alright."
He blinked. "You'll do it?"
"I already feel like yours, Ryker. You just want to make it official."
He grinned then — wild, unhinged, beautiful.
"I'll need a blade. Blood. Moonlight."
"Sounds romantic."
He chuckled. "Only kind I know."
The ritual was ancient.
They stood under the full moon, naked, hands joined.
He cut his palm. She cut hers.
They pressed them together.
"Speak your vow," Ryker said.
"I vow to walk beside you, even in shadow," Aria whispered. "To shield you, to bear your name, your child, your burdens. You are not alone anymore."
Ryker swallowed. "I vow to fight for you. To burn for you. To protect you even if the world burns me for it."
Their blood dripped into the earth.
And the moon answered.
A beam of silver light engulfed them, swirling, merging. Magic crackled through the air.
Aria gasped.
Her mark — the bite on her shoulder — shimmered.
Then changed.
It turned gold.
The bond was complete.
She was his.
He was hers.
Not just lovers.
Mates.
Ryker fell to his knees, trembling.
"What is it?" she asked.
He looked up at her.
Tears in his eyes.
"I never thought I was worthy."
Aria dropped to the ground with him, cradled his face. "You are. To me, you always were."
He kissed her like it was the end of the world.
And maybe it was.
Because from that moment on, nothing would ever be the same.
The next night, the baby kicked hard enough to knock the air from her lungs.
Ryker panicked.
"She's growing too fast."
Aria panted. "I can feel her… magic. It's wild. Untamed."
"She's a born alpha."
"She's not due for weeks."
"Not in human time."
They both stared at her stomach.
Then at each other.
"We need to prepare," he said grimly.
"For what?"
"For a birth like no other."