Chapter 2

Althea POV:

Thick pine branches snapped beneath us one after another, breaking our fall before we slammed into a deep mound of wet leaves with a heavy thud.

At the last second, the masked Alpha had twisted in midair to take the brunt of the impact. I lay sprawled across his broad chest, my stomach churning and my ribs aching from the drop.

I braced my palms against his shoulders to push myself up, only to find his iron arm still locked around my waist, holding me so tight my bones creaked.

The forest was dead silent save for the rustling leaves. Suddenly, that crisp scent of winter cedar rolling off his skin grew ten times stronger, thick and dizzying.

His breathing turned ragged. In one swift motion, he flipped me onto my back, pinning me into the soft leaves as his gold mask glinted under the faint moonlight.

My eyes widened. My fingers twitched toward my waist for a bone needle, but he lowered his head and crushed his mouth over mine.

The instant our lips touched, a violent jolt of electricity shot straight down my spine to my toes. My heart hammered wildly against my sternum, and my blood boiled like molten lava in my veins. That cedar scent wrapped around my senses, filling a hollow ache deep inside my chest with an overwhelming sense of peace and completion.

Through the press of our chests, a low, feral vibration rumbled from deep within his throat—an inner wolf's possessive roar echoing a single word: Mine.

My mind went completely blank. The scent, the physical surge, the soul's peace, the inner roar, and the electric sparks—all five undeniable signs of the Moon Goddess's Recognition Ritual had just triggered at once. Only adult werewolves with an inner wolf could experience the Fated Mate bond, yet my dormant White Wolf bloodline was screaming in response to this stranger.

His kiss grew rougher, carrying an Alpha's absolute dominion as his teeth nicked my bottom lip, drawing a drop of blood. My hands lost all strength against his burning chest, my legs turning to water under the pull of the mate bond.

Just as my sanity began to slip, a chorus of sharp, feral howls tore through the distant woods. The surviving Rogues were regrouping to hunt him down.

The man froze. Pulling back an inch, he sucked in a harsh breath, his chest heaving as he forced down his raging instincts and rolled off me.

He stared down at me for a long beat, his dark eyes swirling with shock and fierce restraint. Then his long fingers brushed against my left ear.

With a sharp click, a cold metal stud locked onto the cartilage of my upper ear.

"Wait for me to find you," he rasped. Without shifting into his Dire Wolf form, he melted into the dark trees at a blinding speed.

I sat up in the leaves, gasping for air, and touched my ear. My fingers traced a star-marrow blue diamond stud engraved with ancient wolf runes. It was fitted with a bloodline mechanical lock designed to stay permanently shut unless opened by its owner.

The Rogue howls drew closer through the freezing air. I could not let anyone see my real face or connect me to the Shadow Falcon.

Channeling a tiny thread of pure White Wolf healing energy into my fingertip, I pressed the hidden spring on the back of the stud. It clicked open and dropped into my palm. After tucking the diamond stud into my inner pocket, I pulled a waterproof tin from my torn bag.

Using a puddle as a mirror, I smeared the pungent brown herbal paste across my left cheek, recreating the hideous burn scar I had worn for twelve years. The bitter herbs instantly masked my natural White Wolf scent, turning me back into a scentless, wolfless Omega. I stood up, brushed the dirt from my clothes, and walked out to the highway, flagging down a passing cargo truck thirty minutes later to borrow the driver's phone and call the Langley Pack headquarters.

Kenton POV:

One mile back in the forest, I stood high on a thick oak branch, cold sweat soaking my shirt as chronic silver poison flared painfully through the nerves of my legs from the hard landing.

The silver poison in my legs has been with me for years. After two years of secret treatment, I've finally gotten to the point where I can leave the wheelchair behind—but only for short periods of time. Any injury and the pain turns unbearable, and the damage worsens fast.

Once I've rested long enough for the pain to fade, the numbness creeps back in —my legs go completely dead again, without the faintest sensation or sting.

I bent over, bracing my hands on my legs, and watched the truck's taillights disappear down the highway.

My heart was still pounding against my ribs. After years of searching, the Moon Goddess had dropped my Fated Mate right into my arms. Her sweet, intoxicating scent was still burned into my lungs.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself not to turn back. As the Shadow Falcon, I had a pack of bloodthirsty Rogues on my tail, and dragging her into my underground war would get her killed.

I swore on my wolf that once I slaughtered these Rogues, I would tear Frostcrown City apart to find the woman wearing my bloodline stud.