Alpha Terrell's POV
The ride away from Hawkins' burning castle should have been triumphant. My warriors rode in formation around me. Smoke billowed into the sky behind us, a funeral pyre for a fool who'd dared to lie to my face.
I should have felt victorious.
Instead, every fiber of my being was focused on the soft, warm weight in my arms.
Angel lay unconscious across my lap, her head resting against my chest, her body tucked into the curve of my arm. The steady rhythm of my horse's gait jostled her slightly with each step, and I found myself constantly adjusting my hold to keep her secure.
To keep her comfortable.
When had I ever cared about someone's comfort?
Her scent wrapped around me like a physical thing - vanilla and wildflowers, innocence and sweetness, so pure it made my teeth ache. It filled my lungs with every breath, invaded my senses, clouded my judgment. My wolf paced restlessly beneath my skin, alternating between protective purring and demanding I claim her immediately.
Mate. Ours. Protect. Keep.
I gritted my teeth, forcing the instinct down.
But my body refused to cooperate.
My arm tightened around her waist of its own accord, pulling her closer against my chest. She made a small sound in her sleep, and my wolf nearly howled with the need to comfort her.
I caught myself before my other hand moved to stroke her hair.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I'd held countless women. Bedded them, used them, discarded them without a second thought. Bodies were just bodies - tools for pleasure, nothing more.
But this...
Angel's soft curves pressed against me, her generous breasts rising and falling with each breath. Even battered and bloody, even unconscious, she called to something deep and primal in my chest. Something that wanted to wrap around her like a shield, to tuck her against me and never let go.
I wanted to hold her like a child holds a precious doll. To cradle her. To pet her.
The thought was so foreign, so utterly unlike me, that I nearly laughed.
A thousand years old, one of the most feared Alphas in existence, and here I was fighting the urge to nuzzle a sleeping girl's hair like some lovesick pup.
Her scent was destroying me. Unraveling centuries of self control I've built.
I forced my grip to loosen, even though every instinct screamed at me to hold tighter.
She shifted in her sleep, her face turning toward my chest. Her bruised face was already showing signs of healing - slower than a werewolf, but faster than a normal human. Interesting. Perhaps the mate bond was already affecting her biology.
A curl of black hair had fallen across her face. Before I could stop myself, my fingers were moving, carefully tucking it behind her ear.
Her skin was soft. Impossibly soft.
Stop it.
But I couldn't.
My thumb traced the curve of her cheek, avoiding the bruises. She was warm against my palm, alive and breathing and mine.
Gareth cleared his throat beside me.
I snatched my hand back like I'd been burned, shooting him a glare that would have sent lesser men running.
He wisely said nothing, but I caught the knowing look in his eyes.
Bastard.
We rode in silence for another hour. Every minute was torture. Angel's body heat seeped through my clothes, warming places that had been cold for centuries. Her weight against my chest felt right in a way that terrified me.
The mate bond was working its magic, weaving invisible threads between us, trying to bind me to her whether I wanted it or not.
I didn't want it.
I couldn't want it.
But my treacherous body disagreed. My wolf disagreed. Every cell in my being was screaming at me to accept her, claim her, mark her as mine for all the world to see.
I inhaled deeply, trying to clear my head.
Mistake.
Her scent flooded my system, sweet and pure and devastatingly innocent. My arm tightened around her again, pulling her flush against me. She fit perfectly in my embrace, like she'd been made specifically for this purpose.
I realized I was stroking her hair.
When had I started doing that?
My fingers moved through the strands almost of their own volition, gentle despite the tangles. She leaned into the touch unconsciously, a soft sound escaping her throat.
The sound went straight to my groin.
Fuck.
This was getting out of hand.
We had at least seven days of travel ahead of us. Seven days of holding this girl, breathing her scent, fighting this insane pull toward her.
Seven days that would turn into seventy if she woke up and tried to murder me.
Because she would try. The moment those beautiful eyes opened and realized who I actually was, she'd attempt to rip my throat out with her bare hands. Never mind that I could snap her in half with one hand. Never mind that she had about as much chance of killing me as a rabbit had of killing a wolf.
She'd try anyway.
I'd seen that look in her eye when she charged at Bellick. Pure, unfiltered rage. The kind of hatred that came from having everything ripped away, from having nothing left to lose.
She blamed me for her family's death.
She was right to.
But that didn't change the fact that a month-long journey through these woods was unacceptable. I hadn't rested properly since the battle at the Hound pack. My muscles ached. My bones felt like lead. I needed my bed, a hot bath that could fit three people, and at least two days of uninterrupted sleep.
I needed...
My gaze dropped to the girl in my arms.
I needed her soft body beside me. Needed to bury my face in her hair and breathe in that maddening vanilla scent until I was drunk on it. Needed to strip away those rags she called a dress and explore every generous curve, every soft inch of skin.
My wolf purred at the thought.
Yes. Mate. Claim. Mark.
No.
I was going to reject her. That was the plan. That had always been the plan.
But first, I needed to get her home without her trying to kill me every five minutes.
Which meant I needed a plan.
I pulled my horse to a stop.
Behind me, my warriors immediately halted, their hands moving to their weapons, eyes scanning the tree line for threats.
"All clear, Alpha?" Gareth asked.
"Yes." I dismounted carefully, shifting Angel's weight to keep her steady. She hung limp in my arms, her head lolling against my shoulder. For a moment, I was struck by how small she felt. How fragile.
How easily I could break her.
How desperately I wanted to keep her whole.
I shook the thought away and positioned her properly on my horse, arranging her so she wouldn't slide off. My hands lingered on her waist longer than necessary, ensuring she was secure.
"Sheena!" I called.
The high priestess emerged from the back of our formation, and oddly enough she had been quiet since Hawkins' castle. She approached now with guarded eyes.
"Watch her," I ordered, gesturing to Angel. "Don't let her fall."
Sheena's gaze flicked between me and the unconscious girl, something unreadable crossing her face. But she nodded and moved to steady my horse.
I walked toward a secluded spot away from the path, away from prying eyes and ears. My generals fell into step behind me without needing to be told.
Gareth, Bellick, and Kade.
We stopped in a small clearing, shadows from the trees cutting across the ground. I turned to face them, crossing my arms over my chest.
"We need to discuss the journey ahead."
"A week's ride, give or take," Gareth said. "Weather permitting."
"Exactly. Seven days. Maybe eight if we encounter difficulties." I paused, choosing my words carefully. "I cannot afford to extend that timeline."
Bellick raised an eyebrow. "Why would the timeline extend?"
"Because of her." I jerked my head toward where Sheena waited with Angel. "The moment she wakes up, she's going to be... problematic."
"She already stabbed Bellick eighteen times," Kade pointed out helpfully. "How much more problematic can she get?"
"She thought Bellick was me," I said flatly. "She has no idea what I actually look like. And when she finds out..."
Understanding dawned on Gareth's face. "She'll fight you every step of the way."
"At minimum. At worst, she'll try to escape, to run, to make this journey as difficult as possible purely out of spite." I'd seen that look in her eyes. That desperate, cornered-animal fury. "Our seven-day journey could easily become a month. Maybe more."
"So what do you propose?" Bellick asked.
This was it. The moment where I admitted to something so utterly out of character that they'd probably think I'd been possessed.
"She doesn't know who I am," I said slowly. "She thinks I'm Bellick. And I intend to keep it that way."
Silence.
Then Kade laughed. "You're joking."
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
The laughter died. Kade's eyes widened. "You're serious. You're actually serious."
"Wait," Gareth held up a hand. "You want to pretend to be Bellick? For seven days?"
"No. I want her to think Bellick is me. And I'll be..." The word stuck in my throat like broken glass. "Someone else."
"Someone else," Bellick repeated slowly. "Like... a random warrior?"
"Like a friend."
The word fell into silence like a stone into water.
Then Kade burst out laughing again.