Seraphina's POV
Mate? The word came out as a croak. What are you talking about?
The man—the wolf—the thing kneeling beside me didn't blink. His amber eyes stayed locked on mine with an intensity that made me want to crawl backward.
I'm Dante Blackthorne, he said, his voice rough like gravel. Alpha of the Wildlands.
My brain struggled to process what I'd just witnessed. Wolves didn't turn into men. Magic like that didn't exist—the kingdoms had stamped it out centuries ago.
Except I'd just watched it happen.
You're insane, I whispered. This is a fever dream from infection. The dog bites—
This is real. His hand still rested on my arm, his fingers warm against the silver marks. And you know it.
I jerked away from his touch. Pain shot through my arms where the marks had burned into my skin, but I didn't care. I scrambled backward on the ground, putting distance between us.
Don't touch me!
He didn't chase me. Just stayed kneeling, watching with those inhuman eyes. The marks are still settling. Fighting them will only hurt more.
I don't care about the marks! My voice came out too high, edged with panic. You just—you were a wolf. And now you're saying I'm your mate? Like I'm some kind of—of property you own?
Something flickered across his face. Not quite emotion, but close. You're not property. The land doesn't choose property. It chooses equals.
The land doesn't choose anything! Land isn't alive!
Here it is. He stood slowly, giving me time to see how tall he was. How broad his shoulders were. How the tribal marks covering his neck and chest seemed to pulse with the same silver light as the symbols on my arms. The Wildlands has consciousness. Will. It protected itself by creating the Thornwall. And it chooses who enters. Who stays. Who leads.
I pushed myself to my feet, ignoring how my legs shook. I didn't ask to enter. The wall just—it opened for me.
Because the land recognized you. He took a step closer. I took a step back. Because you carry magic in your blood that your people have been suppressing for generations. The land felt it the moment you touched the Thornwall.
I don't have magic. I'm just— I stopped. Just what? A disgraced noblewoman? A traitor? Someone who'd survived six weeks in a wasteland that should have killed me?
Maybe I wasn't just anything anymore.
Dante tilted his head, studying me like I was a wounded animal he couldn't quite figure out. You crossed the border. The Thornwall let you through. The land marked you. He gestured to the silver symbols covering my arms. These are mate marks. They appear when the land finds two people whose magic fits together. Complements each other.
Stop saying that word! Anger cut through my fear. I already had someone claim ownership of me. Plan out my whole life without asking what I wanted. I won't let magic do the same thing!
His eyes narrowed. Someone hurt you.
It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway. My fiancé and my sister destroyed my life. Framed me for treason. Had me exiled to die. So forgive me if I'm not thrilled about being told I belong to a stranger because some magic decided for me!
Silence fell between us. A bird called somewhere in the trees. Water rushed in the stream nearby. The silver marks on my arms throbbed with each heartbeat.
When Dante spoke again, his voice was quieter. Less rough. I didn't ask for this either. I've been alone for seven years, believing the land would never choose a mate for me. That I'd die protecting this territory with no one to share it with.
Something in his tone made me look at him—really look. Past the inhuman eyes and predator stillness. For just a second, I saw loneliness so deep it made my chest ache.
Then his expression hardened again. But the land chose. And what the land chooses, it keeps.
Meaning what?
Try to leave. He gestured toward the forest behind me. Go ahead. Find the Thornwall and cross back.
You're letting me go?
I don't have to stop you. The land will.
It was a challenge. One I couldn't ignore.
I turned and ran.
The forest moved immediately. Trees shifted, blocking my path. Roots rose from the ground, creating walls. I veered left and branches whipped across the gap, forcing me to stop.
No! I shoved at the branches but they wouldn't budge. Let me through!
The forest didn't listen.
I tried going right. Bushes grew taller, their thorns extended. Every direction I turned, the Wildlands blocked me.
Panic clawed up my throat. I was trapped. Actually trapped by a forest that was alive and wouldn't let me leave.
Dante appeared beside me without making a sound. I told you. The land bonded you to this territory. To me. You can't leave now.
This is a nightmare. I spun to face him, breathing hard. You can't just—magic can't just decide who I belong with!
The land doesn't decide who you love. His hand reached out slowly, giving me time to pull away. When I didn't, he touched my cheek. His fingers were warm and rough with calluses. It decides who you're compatible with. Who balances your power. Who you could build something with, if you chose to.
I don't want to choose this!
Then don't. He dropped his hand. Fight it. Hate me. Spend every day trying to escape. But you'll still feel me through the bond. Still know when I'm angry or hurt or afraid. The marks connected us, Seraphina. Like it or not, we're linked now.
I froze. How do you know my name?
His smile was sharp and humorless. I can feel your thoughts bleeding through the bond. Emotions. Memories. I know exactly who betrayed you and how much it hurt. I know you're terrified right now. And I know— he paused, something shifting in his expression, —you don't actually want to die. You want revenge.
Heat flooded my face. He could feel my thoughts? My emotions?
Get out of my head!
I can't control it any more than you can.
A new sensation washed over me then—not my own feelings. Foreign emotions bleeding into my consciousness. His emotions. Protectiveness so fierce it made my breath catch. Loneliness that had festered for years. And underneath it all, desperate hope mixed with bone-deep fear.
He was terrified I'd reject him.
I jerked back from the connection, gasping. No. No, I can't—this is too much.
I know. His voice gentled. But fighting won't change it. The bond exists now. We either learn to live with it, or we both suffer.
Before I could answer, a creature materialized from the shadows between trees. It looked like smoke and starlight had taken shape—roughly the size of a wolf but fluid, constantly shifting. Its eyes glowed the same silver as the marks on my skin.
I stumbled backward. What is that?
A land spirit. Dante watched the creature approach me. They're manifestations of the Wildlands' consciousness. Most people never see them. They only appear to those the land has truly claimed.
The spirit—Ash, the name appeared in my mind somehow—circled me once, then pressed against my leg like an affectionate cat. Warmth spread from the contact, soothing some of the panic churning in my chest.
It likes you, Dante said, and I heard surprise in his voice. The spirits are never this trusting of outsiders.
I'm not an outsider anymore, am I? Bitterness crept into my tone. According to you and this magic, I'm Wildlands now. Whether I want to be or not.
Dante extended his hand toward me. Not grabbing. Not demanding. Just offering. You can fight this and be miserable. Or you can accept that your old life is gone and learn what you've become. Your choice.
I stared at his outstretched hand. At the marks on his skin that matched mine. At the spirit purring against my leg.
I'd spent my whole life letting other people make my choices. Following rules. Being the perfect daughter, the perfect fiancée. And where had it gotten me?
Betrayed. Destroyed. Exiled.
Maybe it was time to stop being perfect and start surviving.
But that didn't mean giving in without a fight.
I slapped his hand away and forced myself to stand straight despite my exhaustion. If I'm staying, it's because I have nowhere else to go. Not because magic decided we're mates. And I don't belong to you or the land or anyone. Understand?
Dante's smile was sharp and approving, his eyes blazing brighter. Good. I don't want a docile mate anyway.
I'm not your mate!
Not yet, he agreed. But you will be.
The absolute certainty in his voice sent chills down my spine—half fear, half something I refused to name.
What terrified me most was the tiny voice in the back of my mind whispering that maybe, just maybe, he was right.