ALARIC
The scroll crackled between my gloved fingers as I went over the supply list for the army a third time. Bandages treated with ground silver, burn ointments, tonics for battle fever, herbs to stop hemorrhaging.
Empty words. None of it managed to keep my mind focused. Because every time I looked down at those papers, I ended up seeing her.
That night was still alive in my memory like a wound that never closed. The forest cloaked in the darkness of night. The poison burning through my veins. The humiliation of having been drugged by a dark witch during battle, reduced to a beast with no control over himself.
And then... she arrived.
I don't remember every detail clearly, but I remember what mattered. The warmth of the light from her hands healing my wounds, pulling me from the claws of death. Her eyes looked at me with calm, with something like genuine concern and understanding.
The brush of her body when she chose to stay and save me, fully aware of the danger I posed to her in that state. But above all else, I remembered her scent.
Gardenias. Sweet, clean, impossible to forget or mistake. In that instant, even under the effects of the aphrodisiac, my wolf knew before I did.
My Mate. My everything.
I clenched my jaw beneath the silver mask. Five months. Five damn months searching for her through villages, markets, roads, and desolate places. I followed trails that vanished, rumors that died on arrival.
Until yesterday. A young healer at the great witch Ida's apothecary. Prodigious hands. Reserved. A scent of white flowers, according to a soldier who talked too much.
Gardenias. I lifted my head.
"Darien." My beta entered immediately, as always. Tall, broad-shouldered, imposing presence, skin bronzed by endless campaigns under the sun. He wore his hair pulled back in a low braid that fell over a leather shoulder guard, and a thin scar crossed his left eyebrow before disappearing at his temple.
His gray eyes were cold, fierce before the enemy, and loyal to the death with me. The short, well-kept beard hardened his features even further — and they were already severe to begin with.
"My Alpha," he replied, barely inclining his head. I held out the scroll.
"This full order will go to the great witch Ida's apothecary."
His eyes dropped to the name, then returned to me.
"There are closer suppliers."
"I didn't ask you that."
A shadow of amusement crossed his face.
"No, my Alpha."
He stepped forward, took the scroll, and added:
"Would you like me to bring an escort... or would you prefer to go yourself?"
I was silent for a moment. Then I stood, feeling the familiar weight of the armor stained with dried blood and the silver crescent moon on my chest. I thought about it and decided it was a good idea.
"I'll ready my horse."
Darien let out a short nasal laugh.
"That's what I thought."
I turned toward the open window. The morning wind carried a faint perfume, barely a whisper — impossible, or perhaps a memory.
Gardenias. Five months of searching ended today. And if it really was her...
She would never escape me again. Never.
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