When I woke, I was naked, freezing, and not alone.
“Easy,” a low voice said, the sound vibrating through the thin mattress under me. “Don’t try to sit up too fast. You’ll make yourself sick.”
I ignored him and tried to sit up anyway.
The world tipped. My stomach lurched. I flopped back with a groan, squeezing my eyes shut against the spinning.
A calloused hand settled gently on my shoulder, warm against my chilled skin.
“Stubborn,” the same voice murmured. “Good. You’re going to need that.”
“Get your hand off me,” I croaked.
It withdrew immediately.
The spinning eased enough that I dared to open my eyes.
The room was small and dim, lit only by a single oil lamp on a crate. Stone walls. Low ceiling. The faint smell of herbs and alcohol clung to the air.
The pack infirmary.
I’d been here only a handful of times—once for a broken wrist when I was twelve, once for stitches after I’d slipped with a knife in the kitchen. Omegas didn’t take up healer resources unless we were actively dying.
“How do you feel?”
I turned my head toward the voice.
Tiernan Voss sat on a wooden stool beside the narrow cot, his elbows on his knees, his large hands clasped loosely. His dark hair was damp, curling slightly at the ends, as if he’d run wet fingers through it. He wore plain black pants and a dark gray shirt that fit his broad shoulders a little too well.
His eyes, in the soft lamplight, were less thundercloud and more smoldering storm—still intense, but with a layer of exhausted concern I’d never seen pointed at me before. From anyone.
I hated it.
“Like I got run over by a herd of elk,” I muttered.
One corner of his mouth twitched. “You did just undergo your first shift. It wasn’t exactly…gentle.”
Memory slammed into me.
The dining hall. The spilled porridge. His eyes catching mine. The word *mate* hanging in the air like a noose and a lifeline at once.
The pain.
The voice.
*I am you. And more.*
I swallowed. “My wolf.”
His expression sharpened. “You heard her?”
“Of course I heard her,” I snapped. “She was screaming in my head.”
He huffed a soft, incredulous laugh, then sobered. “What does she say now?”
I went still.
Because underneath the throbbing in my temples, the ache in my bones, there was…something.
A presence.
It felt like standing under a waterfall and realizing the roar you’d thought was background noise was actually someone singing.
*If you quote poetry, I’m going back to sleep,* a dry, feminine voice noted.
My breath hitched.
*You’re real,* I thought, tentative.
A snort. *Of course I’m real. I’ve been bashing my head against your thick skull for years. You just refused to answer the door.*
*That’s not how skulls work,* I told her faintly.
*You’re adorable when you’re shocked,* she replied. Then, more gently: *Hello, Kaia.*
I swallowed hard.
“Kaia?” Tiernan said quietly.
“She’s…” I licked my lips, my throat dry. “She’s here.”
Tiernan’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Good.”
“Don’t sound so relieved,” I muttered. “You didn’t have to share a body with a ghost voice for eight years.”
He watched me closely. “What is she saying?”
I hesitated.
How did I explain someone who felt like…everything I’d ever wanted and everything that terrified me, all at once?
*You could start with my name,* she suggested helpfully.
*Do you—* I started, then realized I was thinking at her and turned the thought properly. *Do you have one?*
*We have one,* she corrected. *We are one. But if it makes your human brain feel better, you can call me…*
There was a thoughtful pause.
*Ashra.*
“Ashra,” I whispered aloud.
Tiernan’s brows rose. “That’s…old.”
“You know the name?” I asked, startled.
He nodded slowly. “Stormwake has stories. Old ones. Ashra was a storm deity in the north before the Goddess unified the packs. Fire and ice. Floods and drought. People used to blame her for everything from failed crops to blizzards.”
Ashra preened in my head. *They remembered me.*
“You’re not a goddess,” I told her firmly. “You’re my wolf.”
*Spoilsport.*
Tiernan’s gaze softened as he watched my expression shift. “She’s sassy, isn’t she?”
“She called me thick-skulled.”
Soundless laughter shook his shoulders. “Definitely sassy.”
I glared at him. “Don’t act like you know anything about her after two minutes.”
*He smells good,* Ashra noted idly. *And his aura feels…right. Solid. Like rock under storm.*
“Stay out of my hormones,” I hissed under my breath.
Tiernan’s brows shot up. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing.” I hauled the thin blanket up higher, realizing with a jolt that I was naked under it. Heat rushed to my face. “Why am I not wearing clothes?”
His ears went faintly pink. “You shifted back on the run here. There wasn’t exactly time—or extra fabric.”
“Oh.”
Silence stretched.
He cleared his throat. “The healers checked you over while you were out. You don’t seem to have any lasting damage from the shift. Some muscle strain, minor internal bruising from the…ah…energy surges. They said you’ll be sore for a few days, but otherwise fine.”
“They *spoke* to me,” I muttered. “That’s a first.”
A shadow crossed his face. “They should have done a lot of things.”
I looked away, suddenly uncomfortable under the weight of his anger on my behalf.
“Where’s Brenna?” I asked instead. “Is she—”
“She’s fine,” he said quickly. “She wanted to stay, but the healers kicked her out when she started yelling at Beta Corin in the hall.”
A startled laugh burst out of me. “She did *what*?”
Tiernan’s lips curved, real amusement glinting in his eyes. “Told him if he came within ten feet of this room, she’d feed his balls to the hogs.”
I stared, then doubled over—well, as much as the aches allowed—laughing. It came out half-hysterical, high and jagged around the edges.
Ow.
“Easy,” he said again, though there was a smile tugging at his mouth now.
“I love her,” I wheezed. “She’s insane. But I love her.”
“I gathered.”
My laughter fizzled out into a shaky breath.
“What happens now?” I asked quietly, staring at the cracked ceiling.
Tiernan exhaled slowly. “That depends on a few things. How much you remember. What Elyra tells you. What you want.”
I snorted. “What I want never mattered much before.”
“It does now,” he said, voice roughening.
Our eyes met.
A strange, warm ache tugged low in my belly.
I looked away first.
“What do you remember?” he pressed gently.
“Everything,” I said hoarsely. “The hall. You. The…scent. The word *mate*. Then the pain. Ashra yelling in my head. The forest. Fire. You getting tackled by Kellan.”
He grimaced. “You saw that, huh.”
“I *felt* it. Ashra was going to bite him.”
*I still might,* she huffed. *No one hits our mate and walks away unscathed.*
I ignored her pointed emphasis on *our*. My cheeks heated anyway.
“And then…” I swallowed. “You talking to Elyra. Rhys. About…what I am. What my parents were.”
Tiernan’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry you heard that like that. In pieces.”
“How else should I hear it?” I asked bitterly. “They never told me anything. I knew my parents were warriors. That they died defending the Luna. That they were…strong.” I laughed harshly. “I didn’t know they were monsters.”
“They weren’t monsters,” Tiernan snapped, sudden anger flaring. “They were powerful. That’s not the same thing.”
“Powerful enough to almost kill their own pack,” I shot back. “That sounds a lot like monstrous to me.”
“Your *Alpha* almost got his own wolves killed,” he retorted. “From what Elyra said, he and the others tried to suppress your parents’ power without knowing what they were dealing with. They treated a lightning strike like a candle and got burned. That’s not on the lightning.”
His metaphor was annoyingly vivid.
I scowled. “You weren’t there. You don’t know what they did. What my parents did.”
“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t. But neither do you. You were eight.”
That shut me up.
Silence stretched again. Less awkward this time. He didn’t fidget. He seemed comfortable in stillness, like a man used to waiting out storms.
“We’re wasting time,” Ashra complained inside my head. *Ask him the important questions.*
*Such as?*
*Does he know what else we can do. Has he seen an elemental wolf at full burn. Does he have snacks.*
*Snacks?* I echoed, incredulous.
*I just woke up after eight years and a catastrophic shift,* she complained. *I’m starving.*
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Do you…” I hesitated, then plunged on. “Do you know how to…control…whatever this is?”
“Elemental power,” he said. “Magic. The old blood. Call it what you want. Yes. I know some. Stormwake has dealt with it for generations. Our first alpha bound his soul to the storms to protect our land.”
“So you can help me,” I said slowly.
“Yes.” No hesitation.
“And you’re just…offering?”
He huffed a breath. “Not out of pure altruism, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I appreciated the honesty.
“Because I’m your mate,” I said flatly.
He winced. “When you say it like that, it sounds like a sentence.”
“It *is* a sentence,” I snapped before I could stop myself. “One the Goddess wrote without my consent.”
His jaw tightened. “You think I asked for this?”
“Yes.” I glared at him. “You’re an alpha. Everyone wants their destined Luna. Their perfect other half. Their magical happily-ever-after.”
He stared at me, then barked out a laugh. It wasn’t amused. It was bitter.
“You think an alpha who watched his father nearly kill his mother under the spell of a *different* destined bond grew up wanting one of his own?” he asked, voice harsh.
I froze.
“What?” I whispered.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Not now. That’s a long story and you look like you’ll pass out if I give you more than three sentences.”
“I’m fine,” I lied.
His eyes narrowed, clearly seeing straight through me. “You’re *not*. And I’m not talking about my family’s mess with a half-awake wolf and a head full of Goddess knows what else listening.”
Ashra growled faintly. *I don’t like him bringing up other she-wolves. Focus, male.*
*You’re jealous?* I yelped internally.
*I’m possessive,* she corrected. *Subtle difference.*
I was starting to get a headache from the three simultaneous conversations.
“Look,” I said aloud, rubbing my temples. “I’m sure you have a very tragic backstory. We all do. Welcome to pack life. But I’m not interested in being anyone’s fated cure or whatever.”
His gaze sharpened. “That’s not what this is.”
“Isn’t it?” I challenged. “You come in. You call me your mate in front of the whole pack. My wolf wakes up. Magic explodes. Now suddenly you’re the only one who can ‘save’ me, if I just accept this bond I never asked for.”
He flinched slightly at the mocking lilt I gave *save*.
“I didn’t *plan* any of that,” he said tightly. “You think I walked into this packhouse thinking, ‘You know what I’d love? To find my mate in the form of a traumatized, wolfless omegas who hates alphas’?”
I blinked. “Omegas,” I corrected automatically.
He sighed, a sound of fraying patience. “My point stands.”
“So we’re both victims,” I summarized. “Of fate. Of the Goddess. Of bad timing.”
“Don’t call yourself a victim,” he snapped.
The vehemence of it startled me.
“You survived eight years of this pack trying to grind you down,” he said, voice low and rough. “You grew a spine sharp enough to glare at an alpha in front of a full hall while knowing you’d get punished for spilling porridge. You held *that*”—he gestured roughly toward my body—“inside you without going mad. You’re not a victim, Kaia. You’re a damn miracle.”
Heat rushed to my face.
I didn’t know what to do with that.
“Stop,” I said, flustered. “You don’t…know me.”
“I know enough,” he said simply.
Silence dropped between us again, heavier this time. Something tangled and hot threaded through it, wrapping around my ribs.
Ashra purred. *He’s good. Keep him.*
*We’re not keeping anyone,* I snapped internally. *We are not a stray cat.*
*We could be,* she said sulkily. *He can feed us.*
“Stop,” I said aloud again, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Tiernan lifted his brows. “Stop…what?”
“Nothing.”
Ashra snickered.
I glared at the ceiling.
“So,” I said, reaching for a safer topic. “Elyra said…you’re staying. To…train me.”
“Yes,” he said cautiously.
I narrowed my eyes. “Under what conditions?”
He winced. “Can we not do this like a negotiation on your…first conscious hour after awakening? You’ve been through—”
“I want to know,” I cut in. “Now. Before you and Rhys and Elyra and every other ranked wolf decide my future for me in a nice, civilized meeting.”
Something like admiration flickered in his gaze.
“All right,” he said slowly. “We talked while you were out. There wasn’t…time to wait for you to wake up before deciding what to do with a girl who just melted a training yard with her fur.”
A hysterical bubble of laughter rose in my chest. “I *what*?”
He held up a hand. “I’m exaggerating. Slightly. But you did steam off a good three inches of snow in a circle around you. And nearly cracked the ground.”
“Oh.”
Ashra sounded smug. *We’re impressive.*
“Anyway,” Tiernan continued, “the gist is: Elyra doesn’t want you leaving the territory until they’re sure you can control your powers enough not to accidentally torch half of Stormwake’s forest. Rhys doesn’t want you leaving at all, because he doesn’t like losing assets.”
“Assets.” My stomach turned.
“He won’t say it like that,” Tiernan added, “but that’s what he means. A wolf like you—if trained properly—is a weapon. A deterrent. A symbol.”
“A freak,” I muttered.
“A force,” he countered.
The word sent a strange little thrill through me.
“Elyra won,” he went on. “For now. You’ll stay. You’ll train. With Kellan for physical control. With their healers to monitor your…surges. With me for weathering the elemental flares.”
“And then what?” I asked. “After I’m a good, obedient little weapon.”
He grimaced. “When you’re of age—“
“In…five months,” I said.
His brows lifted. “You counted.”
“Of course I counted,” I snapped. “Freedom has a date.”
Something like pride flickered in his eyes before he masked it.
“When you’re of age,” he repeated, “you decide. You can stay. You can go. You can reject me. You can accept me. Elyra swore she’ll honor your choice. I’ll…” He hesitated, then squared his shoulders. “I’ll honor it too.”
He said it like a promise. Like a vow.
It landed somewhere deep in my chest and lodged there, aching.
“You’d just…walk away,” I said quietly. “If I told you to.”
He swallowed. “If that’s what you wanted.”
The hesitation before the words was so small most wolves wouldn’t have noticed. But I’d spent eight years parsing the tiniest shifts in ranked voices for danger. I heard it.
“You don’t want to,” I said.
He met my gaze, something raw and open flickering for just a second. “No. I don’t.”
Silence.
I wasn’t used to people admitting things like that to me. To anyone, really. Not without agenda. Not without manipulation.
“I don’t trust you,” I said, because honesty seemed to be the currency at the moment.
His lips curved, sad and wry. “I don’t blame you.”
“But I…” I hesitated, then forced the words out. “I appreciate that you didn’t try to pretend you do this all out of the goodness of your heart. That you admitted you have skin in the game.”
His brows lifted slightly. “Is that your way of saying we can…work together? At least for now?”
Ashra purred. *Yes. Say yes.*
“It’s my way of saying,” I said slowly, choosing each word, “that if training with you means I don’t melt my own packmates by accident the next time I get mad at Corin, I’ll tolerate you.”
His mouth quirked. “High praise.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
He sat back a little, studying me.
“You’re very…self-contained,” he observed. “For someone who just had her entire world turned upside down.”
I snorted. “You assume my world was right-side up to begin with.”
“Fair point.”
Someone knocked on the door.
Tiernan’s expression shuttered. “Yes?”
The door cracked open. Elyra slipped inside, closing it quickly behind her. She looked…different in the small space. Less regal. More human.
“How are you feeling, Kaia?” she asked softly.
“Like I got hit by a rogue,” I muttered.
Her mouth tightened briefly. “You gave us quite a scare.”
“I seem to be good at that,” I said. “Scaring people.”
“You didn’t scare me,” Tiernan murmured.
Our gazes caught. My stomach flipped.
Elyra watched the exchange, something complicated in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly.
The words stunned me into silence.
“For what?” I asked warily.
“For the years you spent in the omegas’ quarters,” she said. “For the loneliness. For the fear. For not telling you what your parents were. What *you* are.”
I stared at her.
“This pack owes you more than scraps,” she said, voice roughening. “Your parents died for me. And I repaid that by…by deciding what was best for their daughter without ever asking her what she wanted.”
Anger flared.
“Yeah,” I said, not bothering to soften it. “That about sums it up.”
She flinched.
Tiernan’s jaw flexed.
“I don’t expect your forgiveness,” Elyra said. “I…don’t think I deserve it. But I intend to do what I can. Now. Late as it is.”
“By letting me choose,” I said. “Later.”
“Yes.”
“And until then?” I pressed. “What changes?”
“Everything,” she said simply. “You will not return to the omega dorms. A room has been prepared for you in the main house.”
My stomach lurched. “I—what?”
“You belong with the ranked wolves now,” she said. “With your peers. With those who can train you.”
“I belong with *my family*,” I shot back. “The omegas raised me. They’re the ones who stayed when everyone else turned away.”
Sadness flickered across her face. “You care for them.”
“Of course I care for them.”
“I don’t mean to take you from them.” She hesitated. “But…I need you close. For your safety. For the pack’s.”
“And for control,” I said flatly.
“Yes,” she admitted.
Tiernan spoke up. “You could let her choose now. Where to sleep. Who to share her space with.”
Elyra’s eyes slid to him, then back to me. “Would you feel safer,” she asked softly, “in a room in the alpha wing? Or in the omega dorms?”
Both options sucked, in different flavors.
The alpha wing meant proximity to power. To scrutiny. To Tiernan.
The omega dorms meant comfort. Familiarity. And vulnerability now that I was no longer “just” one of them.
*We are not safe there anymore,* Ashra said surprisingly gently. *They will fear us. Or worship us. Or both. It will make every friendship complicated.*
*Friendships were already complicated,* I muttered.
*More,* she insisted.
She wasn’t wrong.
I closed my eyes for a second.
“Is there a third option?” I asked.
Elyra blinked. “Such as?”
“A room in the training wing,” Tiernan suggested. “Near the warriors’ quarters. Neutral ground. Closer to the rings.”
“That could work,” Elyra said slowly.
“You’d let me?” I asked, suspicious.
“This is your life,” Elyra said. “I will not dictate every breath you take from now until your birthday. If you want the training wing, we can make it happen.”
My chest felt too tight.
“Fine,” I said. “Training wing. But I’m still working in the kitchens. I’m not abandoning—”
“No,” Tiernan and Elyra said together.
I scowled. “Excuse me?”
“Your body needs rest and controlled strain, not twelve hours of manual labor a day,” Tiernan said. “You’re going to be training with me and Kellan. That’s more than enough.”
“And your presence in the kitchens,” Elyra added gently, “will cause…tension. Among wolves who…aren’t ready to see you as anything but what you were.”
“You mean they’ll be jerks,” I said.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“So we’re just…letting them be?” I demanded. “No consequences for treating me like dirt for eight years?”
Anger carved lines around her mouth. “Oh, there will be consequences,” she said quietly. “Just not your flavor of revenge.”
My curiosity pricked. “What flavor is yours?”
“One they’ll feel for a very long time,” she said. “But that is not your burden. Your job is to survive this. To learn. To decide. Can you do that?”
Could I?
I thought of Brenna’s laughter. Of Nana Lysa’s soft hands. Of the way omegas had closed ranks around me without question when warriors had pushed.
I thought of Tiernan’s hand on my shoulder, warm and careful. Of Ashra’s dry voice in my head, fierce and oddly reassuring.
I thought of the training rings I’d watched from a distance for years, my fingers twitching with longing.
“Yes,” I said slowly. “I can do that.”
Elyra’s shoulders eased a fraction.
“Good,” she said. “Rest tonight. Tomorrow, your new life begins.”
“Dramatic much,” I muttered.
Tiernan huffed a laugh.
Elyra’s lips twitched.
As she slipped out, Tiernan rose to follow.
Panic flared, sharp and unexpected. “Wait.”
He paused, hand on the rough wooden door.
I swallowed. Hated how small my voice sounded. Forced steel into it. “Don’t…come into my head without permission.”
He blinked. “I haven’t—”
“Yet,” I cut in. “But you *can*, right? Call through the bond? Send feelings?”
He hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yes. I can. You can too, you know. Once you get used to it.”
“I don’t want you to,” I said. “Not unless I call first. Not unless I say it’s okay.”
His gaze softened in a way that made my chest ache. “I can respect that.”
“Can you?” I challenged. “Because alphas around here are very used to shoving their auras into everyone whether we want it or not.”
He winced. “That’s…not how it should be.”
“Maybe not in Stormwake,” I scoffed. “But here, my consent has never mattered.”
He flinched again.
“I can’t fix your past,” he said quietly. “I can’t change what they did. But I can promise you this: I will not use our bond to push into your mind without your invitation. I will not alpha-command you unless it’s a life-or-death emergency. And I will never…take from you. Anything. Without you giving it.”
The way he said *anything* made heat crawl up my neck.
Ashra purred. *We like this promise. Make him put it in blood.*
“I don’t trust promises,” I said aloud, voice rough.
He inclined his head. “Then I’ll prove it in practice.”
Our gazes held.
“Rest,” he said finally. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Training yard. Dawn.” A faint, wicked smile touched his mouth. “Warriors’ schedule.”
“I hate you,” I groaned.
“You will,” he said, eyes glinting. “Until the power stops scaring you. Then you might just be grateful enough to stop glaring at me every other breath.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” I muttered.
He chuckled, then slipped out, closing the door softly behind him.
I stared at the rough wood for a long time after he left.
“Well,” Ashra said in my head, stretching like a cat. I could almost feel her massive body unfurling. *This is going to be fun.*
“That wasn’t the word I was thinking of,” I whispered.
*What was yours?*
“Terrifying.”
She considered that. *Terror and fun often hold hands.*
“You’re insane.”
*We are the same,* she reminded me cheerfully. *So what does that say about you?*
I dropped an arm over my eyes and laughed until it turned into something halfway between a sob and a helpless giggle.
Then, exhausted, I let sleep drag me under again.
For the first time in my life, I did not fall alone.
A great, crackling presence settled around me like a shield.
And somewhere on the other side of the packhouse, under a different roof and a different ceiling, a man with storm-gray eyes dreamed of bronze lightning.