The snow didn’t care that she was dying. It fell in thick, relentless sheets, burying the forest trail behind her, erasing her footprints like they’d never existed at all. And maybe that was fitting. Maybe that’s what she deserved, to vanish into white nothingness, forgotten by the world that had already forgotten her.

 Denise Navaro stumbled through the blizzard, her bare feet numb inside boots held together by fraying laces and sheer willpower. The thin jacket she wore, donated, pied, cast off, did nothing against the cold that nodded at her bones. Her breath came in ragged gasps visible in the frozen air, and each inhale felt like swallowing glass. 3 days.

 Three days since she’d been driven out of the silver pine pack territory with nothing but the clothes on her back and the shame burning hotter than frostbite ever could. Omega, worthless, broken. The words still echoed in her skull, spoken by the beta who escorted her to the border. He hadn’t even looked at her when he said it, just pointed into the wilderness and told her to keep walking.

 No ceremony, no formal rejection, just disposal. Because that’s what you did with defective things. She’d always known she was different, weaker, the runt of every litter, the last picked for every pack run, the one who couldn’t shift without pain lancing through every nerve like lightning.

 Other wolves transformed with grace, with power, with the fluid beauty of predators claiming their birthright. Denise’s shifts were agony. Her wolf was small, sickly, silver white fur marred by patches that never quite filled in. And worse, so much worse, was the cold that came with it. When she shifted, frost spread from her paws. Ice crystallized in the air around her.

 Once during a pack hunt, she’d frozen a section of the stream solid without meaning to, and the others had stared at her like she was cursed. Maybe she was. The alpha had tolerated her presence because her mother had been a loyal pack member before she died.

 But when Denise turned 23 and still couldn’t contribute, couldn’t hunt properly, couldn’t even handle the most basic omega duties without her strange ice touch ruining something, his patience ran out. “You’re a liability,” he’d said, voice flat and final. And I won’t risk my pack for one broken wolf. So here she was, exiled alone, freezing to death in a blizzard with nowhere to go and no one who’d mourn her.

 The wind howled and Denise could swear it sounded like laughter. Her vision blurred. Whether from snow or tears, she couldn’t tell anymore. Everything hurt. Her muscles screamed. Her wolf whimpered somewhere deep inside. Too weak to even offer comfort. She should stop. Should just lie down in the snow and let it end.

 It would be peaceful, wouldn’t it? Just drifting off to sleep, surrounded by white silence. No more pain, no more rejection, no more pretending she deserved to exist. Her foot caught on a hidden route and she went down hard, face first into a snowdrift. The cold shocked her system, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but lie there with ice filling her mouth and nose. Get up.

 The thought was barely a whisper. Get up, Denise. Get up. She didn’t know why she obeyed. Survival instinct, maybe. or stubbornness, or maybe just the faint foolish hope that somewhere in this frozen hell there was a place she could rest just for a night, just long enough to stop hurting. She dragged herself upright, spitting snow. And that’s when she saw it.

 Through the white curtain of the storm, barely visible between the trees, a structure, small, dark, solid, a cabin. Denise blinked, certain she was hallucinating. But no, it was real. Wooden walls, a slanted roof heavy with snow, a chimney that suggested warmth, shelter, safety. She didn’t think, didn’t question, just moved toward it like a moth to flame, stumbling and sliding through drifts that reached her knees. The distance couldn’t have been more than 50 yards.

But it felt like miles. Every step was a negotiation with her body. Just one more. Just one more, please. Just one more. The cabin door was unlocked. She should have found that strange. Should have wondered why anyone would leave a structure open in the middle of nowhere, in the heart of winter, in territory she didn’t recognize.

 But Denise was beyond wondering, beyond caution. She pushed the door open and nearly sobbed with relief. Inside was darkness, but it was warm darkness, not heated. There was no fire in the stone hearth, but insulated, protected. The air didn’t bite. She could breathe without pain.

 She closed the door behind her, shutting out the storm, and leaned against it, shaking so violently her teeth chattered. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the dimness. The cabin was simple. One room, maybe 20 ft square. A small hearth on the far wall, a stack of firewood beside it, a rough wooden table with two chairs, shelves lined with dusty jars and tins, and in the corner, gods, yes, a narrow bed with a thick wool blanket.

 It looked like no one had been here in months, maybe years, abandoned, forgotten, just like her. Perfect, she whispered, and the word cracked in the middle. She should check the perimeter, should scent mark the area, make sure she wasn’t trespassing on another pack’s territory. But she couldn’t. Her body had reached its limit.

 The adrenaline that had kept her moving was gone, and in its place was bone deep exhaustion that made her limbs feel like lead. Denise stumbled to the bed and collapsed onto it, fully clothed, boots and all. The blanket was rough against her skin. smelled faintly of cedar and something else, something wild and clean she couldn’t identify, but it was there, and it was real, and that was enough. She pulled it over herself, burrowed into it, and let the darkness take her.

 She dreamed of ice, not the killing cold of the blizzard, but something else, something vast and ancient, sleeping beneath the earth. It called to her in a voice that had no sound, pulling at something deep in her chest where her wolf resided. “Wake up,” it said. “Remember!” But Denise didn’t want to remember.

Didn’t want to wake. She wanted to sink deeper, to dissolve, to finally stop fighting. “Wake up!” her eyes snapped open. The cabin was darker now. Full night had fallen. But she could see clearly with her wolf sight. And what she saw made her heart stop. Someone was sitting in the chair by the table. A man.

 No, not a man. The shape was too large, too still, radiating a presence that made every instinct in her body scream, “Danger! Predator! Run!” He was watching her. Denise sat up slowly, blanket clutched to her chest, pulse hammering so loud she was certain he could hear it. How had he gotten in? She hadn’t heard the door, hadn’t heard footsteps? It was like he’d materialized from shadow.

 For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then he spoke, and his voice was low, rough, like gravel dragged over silk. You’re in my territory. Not a question, a statement. and beneath it, something that might have been curiosity or might have been threat. She couldn’t tell which. Denise’s mouth went dry.

 I I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I’ll leave. In the middle of a blizzard. There was no warmth in his tone, but no cruelty either. Just observation. You’d be dead before you reached the treeine. He wasn’t wrong. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice steady. I didn’t mean to trespass. I was just I needed shelter. Yes.

 From what? The question was so direct it startled her into honesty. From everything. Silence stretched between them, heavy and assessing. Denise’s eyes had adjusted enough now to make out details. He was big, easily 6’3, maybe more, with broad shoulders and a presence that filled the small cabin like barely contained wildfire.

 His hair was dark, pulled back, and even in the shadows she could see the strong line of his jaw, the sharp angles of his face. And his eyes, gods, his eyes, they caught what little light filtered through the window and reflected it back. Golden, piercing, utterly inhuman. alpha. Every cell in her body knew it. This wasn’t just pack leadership or dominance.

 This was something older, something primal, the kind of power that made other wolves bear their throats without thought. She should be terrified. She was terrified. But underneath the fear was something else, something she didn’t understand and didn’t want to examine. A pull like gravity, like magnetism, like two pieces of a puzzle recognizing each other across a crowded room.

 What pack? He asked. I I don’t have one anymore. The admission tasted like ash. I was silver pine, but they I was exiled. It wasn’t a question, but she nodded anyway. He leaned forward slightly and the movement was liquid, predatory. Why? Because I’m broken. The words came out before she could stop them. Bitter and raw. Because I can’t shift right. Can’t hunt right? Can’t do anything right.

 And because I’m Omega, she flinched. Yes. Another long silence. Then impossibly he stood and the cabin felt even smaller with him upright. He crossed to the hearth and she tracked his movement like prey watching a wolf circle. He knelt and began building a fire with practiced efficiency, kindling larger logs arranged just so.

 When he struck the flint, sparks caught, and within moments flames were licking upward, casting dancing orange light across the space. Warmth bloomed, and Denise felt herself drawn toward it despite her fear. The man, the alpha, remained crouched by the fire, staring into it. His profile was sharp, beautiful in a harsh way, like a blade.

 “This cabin,” he said quietly, “sits at the edge of the Northern Lykan territories. You crossed into my land three mi back.” Her blood ran cold. Northern Territories. Lykan. She’d heard stories. Every wolf had. The Lychans were ancient, powerful, separate from regular packs. They didn’t follow the same rules, didn’t answer to the same councils, and their king.

 You’re lucky I found you before the patrols did,” he continued, still not looking at her. “They would have killed you on site for trespassing.” “I’m sorry,” she whispered again, hating how small her voice sounded. “I didn’t know. I’ll leave at first light. I swear no. The single word stopped her cold. Finally, he turned to look at her fully, and the fire light caught his face.

 Strong features, a scar cutting through one dark eyebrow, and those eyes, those impossible golden eyes that seem to see straight through her. You’ll stay, he said, until the storm passes. After that, we’ll see. See what? Whether you survive. It should have sounded like a threat, but the way he said it, quiet, almost resigned, made it sound like something else, like a test, like a challenge, like the beginning of something she didn’t understand, but could already feel changing the trajectory of her entire life. Denise pulled the blanket tighter around

herself and made a decision. She’d survived exile, survived the blizzard, survived 23 years of being told she was worthless. she could survive this, too. “What’s your name?” she asked, surprised by her own boldness. The corner of his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but close. “Russ,” he said. “Russ Mercer.

” And even though she didn’t know it yet, couldn’t possibly know it yet. That name would become the axis around which her entire world would turn. Chapter 2. The King in Shadows. The fire crackled between them like a living thing, casting shadows that danced across the cabin walls. Denise couldn’t stop staring at him.

 This Russ Mercer, who’d appeared like a ghost, and now sat across from her, as if finding half-frozen omega wolves in his territory, was a normal Tuesday occurrence. He hadn’t moved from his position by the hearth, one arm draped casually over his raised knee, but everything about his posture screamed controlled power, like a wolf at rest, deceptively calm, but ready to explode into motion at the slightest provocation.

 “You should eat something,” he said, breaking the silence that had stretched between them for several minutes. Denise blinked. I don’t have He was already moving, crossing to the shelves with that same liquid grace that made her wolf stir uneasily inside her. Not in fear exactly, in recognition, like her broken, damaged wolf somehow knew him, which was impossible because she’d never seen this man before in her life.

 He pulled down a tin and a jar, then retrieved something wrapped in cloth from a box near the window. A window she now realized was enchanted somehow. Frost forming intricate patterns on the glass that definitely weren’t natural. Here, he said, items on the table. Dried meat, hard bread, something that looked like preserved fruit.

 It’s not fresh, but it’ll keep you alive. Pride wared with hunger in her chest. Pride lost. Denise stood on shaky legs, the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, and approached the table like it might bite. She took the chair farthest from him, a pointless gesture since the cabin was so small they were barely 6 ft apart anyway, and reached for the bread with trembling fingers. The first bite was heaven.

 The second was transcendent. By the third, she was fighting back tears because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten anything that wasn’t scraps or leftovers or something she’d scavenged from the forest floor. “Slow down,” Russ said, not unkindly. “You’ll make yourself sick.” She forced herself to chew properly, to take smaller bites, even though every cell in her body was screaming to devour, consume, survive. He watched her eat with an expression she couldn’t read.

Not disgust. She’d seen enough of that in her old pack to recognize it. Not pity either, thank gods. Something else. Assessment, maybe. Or curiosity. How long since you’ve eaten? He asked. Two days, maybe three. Time had blurred together during her flight through the wilderness.

 There was a rabbit, but I I couldn’t catch it because her wolf was too slow, too weak, too wrong. She waited for the judgment, the scorn, the inevitable disappointment. It never came. Instead, Russ stood and moved to the window, staring out at the storm that still raged beyond the glass. Snow piled against the panes, and the wind howled like a living creature trying to claw its way inside.

 “Silver pine pack,” he said thoughtfully. That’s 6 days travel south of here. You crossed through Shadowfen territory to reach this far north. Denise’s hand froze halfway to her mouth. I didn’t realize. I tried to avoid Packlands. I swear. Shadow Fen’s been abandoned for 3 months. His voice was matter of fact, but something in it made her wolf whine.

The alpha died without an heir. The pack scattered. You’re lucky. If they’d still been active, they would have killed you for trespassing. I seem to be trespassing a lot lately,” she muttered, then immediately regretted it. But instead of anger, she heard something that might have been amusement in his voice. “Yes, you do.

” He turned back to face her, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. The fire light painted him in gold and shadow, and Denise had to force herself to look away because there was something almost hypnotic about him, something that made her want to keep staring, to memorize every line and angle, to stop it, she told herself firmly. “He’s an alpha. Probably has a mate.

 Definitely has better things to do than babysit a broken omega.” “Why did they really exile you?” Russ asked, and the question was so direct, it made her flinch. I told you I’m broken. That’s what they told you. I’m asking what you believe. No one had ever asked her that before. Denise sat down the bread, suddenly not hungry anymore, her hands twisted in the blanket, and she stared at the rough wooden table because looking at him while admitting this felt impossible.

 I think, she started, then stopped, swallowed, tried again. I think they were afraid of me. Why? Because of what happens when I shift. The words came faster now like a damn breaking. I can’t control it. The cold, it just it comes out of me. Freezes everything around me. I’ve ruined hunts, destroyed equipment, nearly killed another wolf once when I panicked during a challenge and ice spread across the ground and he slipped. And she cut herself off, breathing hard.

 They said I was cursed, she finished quietly. said, “I carried winter in my bones, and it would poison the pack if they let me stay.” So, they didn’t. Silence filled the cabin, broken only by the fire’s steady crackle. Then Russ spoke, and his voice was different now, darker, almost angry. “They’re idiots.” Denise’s head snapped up.

 “What?” He pushed off from the wall and crossed to her in three long strides. She tensed, instinct screaming at her to run, to submit, to do something. But he stopped just short of invading her space, towering over her, but not threatening, just present. You’re not cursed, he said, those golden eyes boring into hers. You’re untrained. That’s not When did your wolf first appear? The question threw her.

 I when I was 13, later than most, but and the cold. When did that start? The same time. They’ve always been connected. I thought everyone said it meant something was wrong with me. Nothing is wrong with you. He said it with such conviction that she almost believed him. Your wolf isn’t broken, Denise. She’s different.

There’s a distinction. Hearing her name from his lips did something strange to her chest. made it feel too tight and too open all at once. “How do you know my name?” she asked suddenly, realizing he’d used it earlier, too. “I never told you.” Something flickered across his face, too fast to identify. I heard you cry it out in your sleep when you first collapsed.

That made sense, probably. Though something about his tone suggested there was more to it than that. You were watching me sleep. She meant it to sound accusatory, but it came out more uncertain than anything. I was watching my territory, he corrected. You just happened to be in it. For how long? Long enough to know you’re not a threat.

 He moved back to the fire, giving her space to breathe again. And long enough to recognize what you are. Omega, she said bitterly. Worthless. Blessed. The word hit her like a physical blow. Denise stood so fast, her chair scraped against the floor. “What did you just say?” Russ crouched by the fire, feeding at another log, but his eyes never left hers.

 “Among lychans, wolves who carry elemental gifts are considered blessed by the old gods. Fire touched, stormcalled, earthbound,” he paused. “Winter blessed.” Her heart was hammering so hard she felt dizzy. “That’s not that’s a myth, is it?” He raised an eyebrow. You can feel it, can’t you? Even now, the cold that lives under your skin. It’s not sickness.

 It’s power. Power that I can’t control. She shot back. Power that hurts people because no one taught you how to wield it. He stood again. And gods, he was tall, solid, immovable as a mountain. Your pack feared what they didn’t understand. So they cast you out rather than help you learn. That’s their failure, not yours.

 Tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She’d cried enough, been weak enough. Why are you telling me this? Her voice cracked despite her best efforts. Why do you even care what happens to some exiled Omega who trespassed on your land?” Russ was quiet for a long moment, studying her with an intensity that made her feel stripped bare, seen in a way she’d never been seen before.

 Then he said something that changed everything. Because I know what it’s like to be feared for what you are instead of valued for who you are. His jaw tightened. And because the moment you crossed into my territory, you became my responsibility. Like it or not. I don’t want to be anyone’s responsibility, Denise said. But the words lacked conviction. Too bad.

 There was no heat in it. Just statement of fact. The storm won’t break for at least two more days. You’re stuck here with me, with him, in this tiny cabin, barely big enough for one person, let alone two, with a male who looked at her like she was a puzzle he intended to solve, who spoke about her curse like it was a gift, who’d given her food and warmth and the first kindness she’d experienced in months without asking for anything in return.

 It terrified her, but more than that, and she hated herself for this, it sparked something in her chest that felt dangerously close to hope. “I don’t understand you,” she admitted quietly. “You don’t have to.” He moved toward the door, checking the latch the way an alpha checked the security of his den.

 “All you have to do right now is rest, heal, stop running long enough to remember you’re worth more than what they told you.” He made it sound so simple, like she could just decide to be worth something and make it true. “Where will you sleep?” she asked, because the cabin only had one bed, and she’d claimed it like a selfish, “I won’t.

” He settled back into the chair by the table, angling it so he faced both the door and the window. “I don’t sleep much anyway. That felt like a lie, but she was too exhausted to press.” Denise returned to the bed, still wrapped in the blanket, and lay down carefully. The mattress was thin, but comfortable enough, and the cabin was warm now, the fire chasing away the cold that had lived in her bones for days.

 She should be afraid, should be planning her escape the moment the storm cleared. Should be doing anything except lying here feeling safe for the first time in months. But she was so tired. So bone deep. Soul deep tired. “Russ,” she said into the darkness, not even sure if he’d answer. “Yes, thank you for not killing me.” A pause, then so quietly she almost missed it.

“You’re welcome, Denise, for not making me.” She didn’t know what that meant. Didn’t have the energy to figure it out. Sleep pulled at her, warm and irresistible. And this time when she dreamed, it wasn’t of ice and cold and endless running. It was of golden eyes and a voice that said, “You’re not broken.” Like he meant it.

 Like maybe, possibly, impossibly. He was right. She woke to the smell of food cooking and the sound of wind still howling outside. Morning light, gray and weak, filtered through the enchanted windows. The fire still burned, and Russ was at the hearth doing something with a small pot that made her stomach growl so loudly she was certain he heard it.

 “You’re awake,” he said without turning around. “Good. Come eat.” Denise sat up, pushing tangled hair out of her face, acutely aware that she probably looked like something a wolf had dragged in and then rejected. But Russ didn’t seem to care about appearances.

 He just ladled something into a wooden bowl and set it on the table. Soup, thin but hot with chunks of meat and root vegetables. Where did this come from? She approached cautiously, still not quite trusting that this wasn’t some elaborate dream. Supplies are stored here for emergencies, he said. The cabin serves as a way station for patrols.

 Usually, no one uses it except during harsh winters. So, I really did trespass. Technically, he poured something from a flask into a second cup. Tea maybe, or something herbal, but the cabin was empty, and you were dying. I’m not going to punish you for choosing survival.

” She wanted to argue that plenty of others had punished her for less, but she bit her tongue and focused on the soup instead. It was good, simple, but nourishing, and she felt strength returning to her limbs with every spoonful. Russ sat across from her, nursing his own cup, watching her with that same unreadable expression. “What?” she finally asked, setting down her spoon.

 “Why do you keep staring at me? I’m trying to figure you out. I’m not that complicated. Broken Omega, exiled, nearly dead. There, mystery solved. You’re more than that.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table. You survived 6 days alone in hostile territory during winter. Most wolves would have died in two. That takes strength or stupidity. Strength? He repeated firmly.

 And something else. Something you’re hiding. Her pulse kicked up. I’m not hiding anything. Your wolf. His eyes narrowed slightly. She’s quiet. Too quiet. Like she’s sleeping. Denise looked away. She’s always like that. Weak or suppressed? What’s the difference? Intent. Russ down his cup. A weak wolf is born that way. A suppressed wolf has been forced into silence.

 Which is yours? The question cut too close to truths she didn’t want to examine. Does it matter? She asked instead. Yes. Why? He was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice carried weight she didn’t understand. Because if your wolf is suppressed, that means someone taught you to be ashamed of her.

 And shame is a cage that kills from the inside out. Denise felt her throat tighten. You sound like you know from experience. I do. Two words, no elaboration, but the pain in them was unmistakable. She wanted to ask, wanted to know what had hurt this powerful, confident alpha badly enough to leave scars she could hear in his voice.

 But that felt too intimate, too presumptuous for someone who’d known him less than a day. So instead, she said, “What happens when the storm ends?” “You tell me.” Russ leaned back, expression carefully neutral. “What do you want to happen?” I want. She trailed off because she didn’t actually know. Wanted to disappear. Wanted to matter. Wanted to stop being afraid of her own skin.

 I want to not be a burden. You’re not. You don’t know that. I could be Denise. He said her name like a command, stopping her spiral. You’re not a burden. You’re a wolf in need of shelter. That’s all. And until you’re ready to leave, truly ready, not running because you think you should, you stay. Just like that. Just like that. It couldn’t be that simple. Life was never that simple.

 There had to be a catch, a price, something he wanted in return. But when she searched his face, all she found was steady certainty and something else. Something that looked almost like loneliness. No, that was ridiculous. An alpha like him, powerful and commanding, wouldn’t be lonely.

 He probably had a whole pack, a mate, a life full of purpose and connection. “Do you live here?” she asked. “In this cabin?” “No.” He glanced toward the window. “My home is 2 hours north. This is just an outpost.” “Then why are you here during the storm?” His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. I was hunting in a blizzard. I like the quiet.

 It was a lie, or at least not the whole truth. She could tell by the way his shoulders tensed, the way his eyes slid away from hers just slightly. But she didn’t push. Everyone was entitled to their secrets. Even mysterious alphas who appeared in snowstorms and called broken omegas blessed. The wind rattled the windows, and Denise shivered despite the fire’s warmth. Russ noticed immediately. Of course he did.

 He seemed to notice everything and stood. You’re still cold. I’m fine. He crossed to a chest in the corner and pulled out another blanket, thicker than the first. Before she could protest, he draped it over her shoulders, his hands careful not to touch her skin. But she felt the heat of him anyway, felt the way her wolf stirred, interested, drawn to his presence like moss to sunlight.

 “Thank you,” she whispered. Russ stepped back quickly, putting distance between them. Rest more if you need to. I’ll keep watch. Watch for what? Anything that might threaten you. The words settled over her like the blanket. Unexpected warmth. Unexpected safety. And for the first time in her life, Denise wondered if maybe, just maybe, she’d stumbled into something that wasn’t an ending, but a beginning. Chapter 3. Scars of the Past.

The storm raged for three more days. Three days trapped in a cabin barely large enough to breathe in, with a male who seemed to take up all the oxygen without even trying. 3 days of careful silence and loaded glances, and the constant awareness of him, his presence, his scent, the way he moved like water and struck like lightning.

 3 days of Denise slowly losing her mind. It wasn’t fear anymore. that had faded sometime during the second night when she’d woken from a nightmare, screaming, clawing at invisible enemies, and found Russ kneeling beside the bed, his hand hovering near her shoulder, but not touching, his voice low and steady as he talked her back to reality. “You’re safe,” he’d said over and over.

 “You’re here. You’re safe.” And she’d believed him. No, what haunted her now wasn’t fear. It was something far more dangerous. It was trust. She didn’t want to trust him. Trust was what had gotten her hurt before. Trust in her pack. Trust that loyalty meant something.

 Trust that if she just tried hard enough, worked hard enough, diminished herself small enough, they’d finally see her as worthy. But Russ didn’t ask her to diminish. He asked her questions instead. Tell me about your mother,” he said on the third morning while they ate a breakfast of dried fruit and the last of the bread. Denise looked up startled. “Why?” “Because you mentioned she was loyal to Silverpine.” “Because you’re here and she’s not.

” “Because I want to know.” Such simple reasoning. Such dangerous curiosity. She set down her cup and stared into the dregs of herbal tea like they held answers. She died when I was 16. hunting accident. I’m sorry. Don’t be. The words came out harsher than intended. She’s the lucky one. She never had to see what I became. And what did you become? A disappointment.

Russ made a sound. Not quite disagreement, not quite sympathy. Tell me about the first time you shifted. And God’s helper, she did. Maybe it was the storm making her feel isolated from the rest of the world. Maybe it was the way he listened, really listened, not just waiting for his turn to speak.

 Maybe it was the simple fact that she’d been alone with her shame for so long that having someone willing to hear it felt like lancing a wound. I was 13, she began, wrapping her hands around her cup for warmth that had nothing to do with temperature. Late bloomer, which already made me different. The other wolves my age had shifted at 11, 12. They were running with the pack, learning to hunt. I was still waiting.

She could still remember it. The isolation, the whispers, the way other mothers pulled their children away from her like weakness was contagious. My mother told me to be patient, that wolves bloomed in their own time, but I could see the worry in her eyes. Denise swallowed hard. The alpha was starting to question whether I was worth keeping, whether I’d ever be useful.

 Useful, Russ repeated, and something in his voice made it sound like a curse. That’s what pack is, isn’t it? Everyone contributes. Everyone has a purpose. I had nothing. You were 13. Old enough to prove my worth. She’d heard that phrase so many times it was carved into her bones. So when my first shift finally came, I was relieved, grateful.

 I thought I thought it meant I’d finally belong. The memory rose up, vivid and terrible. It had been a full moon. The pack gathered in the clearing for the monthly run. Denise had felt it building inside her all day, a pressure, a heat, something clawing to get out. When the alpha howled, something in her answered.

 The shift had been agony. Not the normal discomfort of bones rearranging, muscles reshaping. This was different. This was fire and ice at once, her body tearing itself apart and rebuilding wrong. And when she’d finally stood on four legs instead of two, the world had tilted. “I was so small,” she whispered.

 smaller than the other females, silver white fur that looked almost sickly, and when I took my first step, frost spread from my paws. She could still see it, ice crystallizing across the grass in intricate patterns, spreading outward in a circle, the other wolves backing away, the alpha’s ears flattening, her mother’s expression. Love mixed with horror.

 They thought it would fade, Denise continued. a quirk of a late first shift. But it didn’t. Every time I shifted, the cold came with me. I couldn’t control it. Couldn’t stop it. And it got worse as I got older. Worse how? Stronger. More volatile. She rubbed her arms, remembering, “When I was scared, the temperature would drop. When I was angry, ice would form on whatever I touched.

 I shattered a window once just by pressing my hand against it. Emotions trigger the power, Russ said thoughtfully. That’s common with elemental gifts. It’s not a gift, she snapped. It’s a curse. Do you know what it’s like to be afraid of yourself? To know that if you feel too much, you’ll hurt someone? Yes. The single word stopped her cold. Russ was staring at the fire, his profile carved from stone.

I know exactly what that’s like. Denise waited, but he didn’t elaborate. just sat there, jaw-tight, hands clenched on his knees. “What happened to you?” she asked quietly. “Nothing I’m ready to talk about.” He stood abruptly, moving to check the door latch for the hundth time. “Continue.

” “What happened after your first shift?” She wanted to push, wanted to know what ghosts haunted him. But Fair was fair. She was spilling her secrets, not demanding his. “The pack tried to help at first,” she said. training sessions with the beta, meditation exercises with the healer, nothing worked. The cold was part of me, woven into my wolf, and separating it felt like trying to separate water from ice.

 Because you can’t, Russ said, they’re the same thing in different forms. Exactly. She pulled the blanket tighter. But they didn’t see it that way. They saw me as broken, wrong, a mistake that needed to be fixed. The word mistake had followed her everywhere, whispered behind hands, spoken in meetings she wasn’t invited to, until it became truth, solid and immovable.

My mother defended me as long as she could. Denise’s voice cracked. Said I just needed time, patience, understanding. But when she died, when she died, Denise’s only shield had died with her. The alpha tolerated me for two more years out of respect for her service, but I could feel his patience running out.

 Every failed hunt, every ruined patrol, every time my wolf froze something she shouldn’t have, it was one more mark against me. “What was the final straw?” Russ asked. Denise closed her eyes, not wanting to see his face when she admitted it. “There was a challenge. Another omega, stronger, better, everything I wasn’t, wanted to climb the pack hierarchy.

 She challenged me to a dominance fight. Standard practice. Wolves sorted themselves through strength. The weak submitted or left. I tried to submit immediately, Denise said. Bared my throat, showed my belly, but she wanted blood. Wanted to prove herself by crushing me completely. The memory played out behind her eyelids.

 The circle of watching wolves, the challenger’s snarls, the alpha’s nod of permission. She came at me and I panicked. Denise’s hands trembled. I didn’t mean to fight back, but my wolf, she reacted on instinct. And the ice, gods, the ice, it spread across the ground in seconds. She slipped, went down hard, broke her leg in three places.

 Denise opened her eyes, forcing herself to meet Russ’s gaze. She never walked right again. It was an accident. It was proof. Her laugh was bitter. Proof that I was dangerous, unpredictable, that keeping me would risk the whole pack’s safety. So, they exiled you. The alpha gave me a choice. Leave voluntarily or be executed as a threat.

 She shrugged like it didn’t matter, like it hadn’t shattered something fundamental inside her. I chose to leave with nothing, with my life. That’s more than I deserved. Stop. The word cracked through the cabin like a whip. Denise flinched, wolf instincts, screaming at her to submit to the command in his voice, but Russ crossed to her in three strides and dropped to one knee beside her chair, putting them at eye level.

 “You deserved protection,” he said fiercely. “You deserved training, guidance, someone to teach you how to wield what you carry instead of fear it. You deserved a pack that saw your potential instead of your mistakes. You deserved better.” Tears burned her eyes, and she hated herself for them. “You don’t know that. You don’t know me.

I know enough.” His golden eyes blazed with conviction. I know you survived alone in winter wilderness for nearly a week. I know you had the strength to keep walking when most would have laid down to die. I know you wake up fighting nightmares and still managed to face each day. That’s not weakness, Denise.

That’s warrior spirit. I’m not a warrior. I’m just surviving. He reached out slowly, giving her time to pull away. And when she didn’t, his hand closed gently over hers. And survival is its own kind of victory. His touch was warm, solid, grounding, and for one dangerous moment, Denise let herself believe him.

 let herself imagine a world where she was more than broken, more than cursed, more than the mistake her pack had deemed her. Then reality crashed back. She pulled her hand away, standing quickly, putting the table between them. “Why do you care? You don’t owe me anything. I’m just some random omega who trespassed. You’re not random.

” Russ stood too, and his expression was complicated. The moment you crossed into my territory, you stopped being random. What does that even mean? It means he stopped himself, jaw clenching. It means I take responsibility for every wolf who sets foot on my land. And right now that includes you. It was a reasonable answer, a logical answer.

 So why did it feel like he was holding something back? I should leave. Denise said, “The storm’s dying down. I can The storm is still dangerous.” His tone borked no argument. “You’ll stay until it’s fully passed. You can’t just command me. I can. And I am.” He moved to the window, staring out at the endless white. “You’re still recovering, still weak. I’m not sending you back into that.

 I’ve survived worse. You shouldn’t have had to.” He turned back to her and the raw emotion in his face made her breath catch. “No wolf should have to survive what you’ve survived. And while you’re here in my territory under my protection, you won’t have to anymore.

” The words wrapped around her like a promise, like an oath, like something that could break her heart if she let it. “I don’t understand you,” Denise whispered. “You keep saying that because it keeps being true. Russ smiled. Just a slight curve of his mouth, but it transformed his whole face, made him look younger, less haunted. “Then I suppose we’ll have to work on that,” he said. “Understanding takes time, and it seems we have plenty of that.

” The storm howled outside, as if agreeing, and Denise, despite every instinct telling her to guard her heart, felt herself softening. felt the walls she’d built around herself, brick by painful brick, starting to crack. It terrified her. But underneath the terror was something she’d almost forgotten existed.

 Hope, fragile and dangerous, and desperately, achingly alive. That night, she dreamed again. But this time, it wasn’t nightmares of her exile or memories of her pack’s rejection. This time she dreamed of ice that wasn’t cold. She stood in a frozen forest, silver trees glittering with frost, and the cold didn’t hurt.

 It welcomed her, called to her in a voice that spoke without words, ancient, knowing, patient. “You are ours,” it said. “You always have been.” And then the dream shifted and she was standing in front of a throne carved from ice and stone, empty, waiting. “Claim what is yours,” the voice whispered. “Remember what you are.

” She woke with tears on her face and Russ’s voice cutting through the darkness. “Denise, breathe.” She was hyperventilating, she realized, gasping like she’d run for miles. “I’m I’m okay,” she managed. No, you’re not. He was closer than before, sitting on the floor beside the bed. Close enough to touch, but he didn’t. Same dream. Different. She wiped her face roughly. But I don’t I don’t know what it means.

What did you see? She told him. The forest, the throne, the voice that claimed her. When she finished, Russ was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “You need to know something. The seriousness in his tone made her pulse spike. “What? This territory, the Northern Lykan lands, they’re not random wilderness.

 They’re ancient, sacred to the old packs,” he paused. “And they’re connected to the Frost bloodline.” “The what? A lineage of wolves blessed by winter itself. They ruled these lands for centuries before the bloodline was thought to have died out. His eyes found hers in the darkness. They had power over ice and snow. Could command the cold like others command fire.

Denise’s blood ran cold and not from her usual curse. That’s impossible. She breathed. I’m just I’m nobody. Are you? Russ leaned forward slightly. Or have you been told you’re nobody for so long that you’ve forgotten to question it? This is insane. Is it? your silver white fur, your ice touched wolf, the fact that you survived in my territory when the land itself should have killed you.

” He gestured toward the window. “This cabin sits on a nexus point, a place where old magic runs strong. Most wolves can’t even approach it without feeling sick. But you walked right in and claimed it like it was yours. I didn’t claim anything. I was dying.” And the land gave you shelter.

 His voice dropped lower. It doesn’t do that for just anyone, Denise. She shook her head violently, pulling the blanket up like it could shield her from his words. No, you’re wrong. I can’t be I’m not special. He finished. Powerful meant for something more than the scraps they fed you. Stop.

 Why? Because it scares you? Because it means everything they told you was a lie? Because I can’t be that. The words ripped out of her. I can’t be some lost bloodline or chosen one or whatever story you’re spinning. I’m just Denise, just a broken omega who ruins everything she touches. That’s all I’ve ever been. That’s all I’ll ever be. Russ stared at her for a long moment, and she expected anger, frustration, disappointment.

Instead, his expression softened. You really believe that? He said quietly. They broke you so thoroughly that you can’t even imagine being whole. The truth of it burned worse than any wound. “Yes,” she whispered. “Then I’ll believe it for both of us,” Russ said. “Until you’re ready to believe it yourself.

” And before she could respond, before she could build her walls back up, he stood and returned to his chair by the fire. leaving her alone with thoughts that wouldn’t stop spinning, with dreams that felt more like memories, with the terrifying possibility that maybe, just maybe, she was exactly as broken as she’d always believed, or exactly as powerful as she’d never dared to imagine.

Chapter 4. Ancient Awakening. The storm finally broke on the fifth day. Denise woke to silence. Real silence. Not just the absence of howling wind, but the presence of something peaceful. She sat up, disoriented, and realized sunlight was streaming through the windows. Actual sunlight, weak and winter pale, but real.

 The storm was over, which meant she was out of excuses to stay. The thought should have brought relief, freedom, the chance to finally leave this too small cabin and the two observant alpha who saw too much and made her feel things she had no business feeling. Instead, it felt like loss. Russ was already awake. She suspected he never actually slept, standing by the window with his arms crossed, staring out at the transformed landscape.

 Snow blanketed everything in pristine white, untouched and perfect. The kind of beauty that made your chest ache. It’s clear, he said without turning around. The path north will be passable by afternoon. North toward his home presumably away from this liinal space where normal rules didn’t seem to apply. So I should head south, Denise said, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

Back toward No, she blinked. No, you’re not going back to Silverpine territory. Now he did turn and his expression was set. Decided. They exiled you. You have no protection there. No rights. Any wolf could challenge you, hurt you, kill you, and it would be considered legal. I wasn’t planning to go back to Silverpine, she said.

 I was thinking west maybe, or you’re coming north with me. The words landed like a decree, like there was no other possible option. Excuse me. Denise stood, blanket slipping off her shoulders. You can’t just I’m not You’re under my protection now. Russ crossed his arms and every inch of him radiated alpha authority. That doesn’t end just because the storm cleared. It ends when you’re safe, established, able to defend yourself.

And right now, you’re none of those things. Pride flared hot in her chest. I survived six days alone and nearly died. He took a step toward her. You were half frozen, starving, and minutes from either exposure or predator attack when you found this cabin. That’s not surviving, Denise. That’s luck. And luck runs out.

 So what? You’re just going to what? Keep me. The words came out more bitter than intended. Like a pet project? another responsibility to manage. Something flickered across his face. Hurt maybe, or frustration. Is that what you think this is? I don’t know what this is. She gestured between them, at the cabin, at everything. You appear out of nowhere. Take me in.

 Feed me. Tell me I’m not broken. Spin stories about ancient bloodlines and destiny. And now you want me to just follow you to your home like some stray you picked up. You’re not a stray. Then what am I? The question hung in the air, loaded with more weight than it should carry. Russ opened his mouth, closed it.

 Seemed to be wrestling with something internal. Finally, he said, “You’re a wolf who needs help, and I’m offering it. That’s all.” It should have been enough. It was more than anyone else had offered. But something in his tone, something careful, guarded, made her think there was more he wasn’t saying. Why? She pressed.

 Why do you care so much? You don’t even know me. I know enough. That’s not an answer. It’s the only one I have right now. He moved toward the door, clearly done with the conversation. Get ready. We leave in an hour. And if I refuse? He paused, hand on the latch, and looked back at her. Then I’ll respect your choice. But know this, you won’t survive another week alone out here.

 The territory gets more dangerous the farther you go. And without pack protection, he didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t have to. They both knew what happened to lone wolves. Nothing good. One hour, he repeated, and stepped outside, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Denise spent the hour waring with herself.

 Pride said to refuse, to strike out on her own, prove she didn’t need anyone, especially not some mysterious alpha with golden eyes and secrets he wouldn’t share. But survival, cold, practical survival, said to accept. She had no supplies, no territory, no pack. Winter was far from over, and despite everything, Russ had been nothing but kind to her. Firm, yes.

 Commanding, absolutely, but never cruel, never dismissive. He saw her. That was the dangerous part. He saw her and didn’t look away. When he returned, she was standing by the door, wrapped in both blankets because she had nothing else. “I’ll come with you,” she said before he could speak. “But I need to understand the terms.

 What do you expect from me? What’s the arrangement? Russ studied her for a moment, then nodded. Fair question. Here’s the truth. I live alone. My pack. He paused. Something dark crossing his face. My pack is complicated. I maintain territory, patrol borders, handle threats, but I don’t have a traditional pack structure. You’re a lone alpha? Something like that.

 He gestured toward the door. You’d have your own space, your own autonomy. I’d provide protection, shelter, food. In return, I ask only that you follow territory rules and let me help you learn to control your gift. It’s not a gift. It is. His voice was gentle but firm. And I can prove it to you, but only if you trust me enough to try. Trust. That word again.

 Denise took a breath and made her choice. “Okay, but if I want to leave, you can leave anytime.” He said it without hesitation. “You’re not a prisoner. You’re not property. You’re a wolf under my protection, and that protection includes your right to choose your own path.” It was more than she dared hope for. “Okay,” she said again, softer. “Then let’s go.

” The journey north took 3 hours. 3 hours of trudging through deep snow, following Russ’s confident path through terrain that all looked the same to her. He moved like he knew every tree, every rock, every hidden danger. And maybe he did. She tried to keep up, but her strength was still depleted. Her wolf still weak.

 Halfway through she stumbled, and before she could catch herself, Russ was there, hand on her elbow, steadying her. Sorry, she muttered. Don’t be. He didn’t let go immediately. We can rest if you need. I’m fine. She wasn’t, but admitting weakness felt like admitting defeat. They continued on, and slowly the landscape began to change.

 The trees grew taller, older, their branches heavy with snow that sparkled in the weak sunlight. The air felt different here, charged somehow. Electric. We’re close,” Russ said, and then they rounded a bend, and Denise’s breath caught. A clearing opened before them, massive, circular, ringed by ancient pines that seemed to touch the sky.

 And in the center, partially buried in snow, stood ruins, stone pillars carved with symbols she couldn’t read, archways leading to nowhere, and at the heart of it all, a structure that might have once been a temple or shrine, its walls still standing despite obvious centuries of abandonment. What is this place? She whispered. The temple of the first winter.

Russ’s voice was reverent. Where the frost bloodline’s power was first awakened. Where they crowned their kings and queens. Where they he trailed off, then seemed to decide something. Where they connected with the ancient magic that runs beneath this land. Denise felt it. man.

 A pull deep in her chest, like a hook catching behind her ribs and tugging. Her wolf stirred for the first time in days, not frightened or pained, but curious, hungry. “I don’t think we should be here,” she said, even as her feet carried her forward without permission. “Denise.” But she was already moving, drawn toward the temple like iron to a magnet. The closer she got, the stronger the pull became.

 The air around her dropped in temperature, her breath misting, and she realized with shock that it wasn’t external cold. It was coming from her. Her hands began to glow with pale blue light. Denise, stop. Russ was behind her, voice urgent, but not commanding, like he didn’t want to break whatever was happening.

 She reached the entrance of the temple, a doorway still intact, carved with images of wolves running beneath a crescent moon. And the moment her fingers touched the stone, everything exploded. Not literally, but energy surged through her. Ancient and vast and utterly overwhelming. Images flooded her mind. Wolves with silver fur, eyes glowing ice blue, running through this forest when it was young.

 A woman standing where Denise stood now, crown of frozen branches on her head, power radiating from her like winter itself, and words carved into her consciousness. The blood remembers, the ice calls. The throne awaits its queen. Denise gasped and stumbled backward, directly into Russ’s chest. His arms came around her, steadying her, and she realized she was shaking violently.

What? What was that? Her voice was barely a whisper. The temple recognizing you. Russ’s voice was right by her ear, low and serious. This place has been dormant for over a century. No wolf has been able to even approach the entrance without getting sick. But you, he paused. You walked right up and touched it. And it responded. That’s impossible.

Yet it happened. Denise turned in his arms. a mistake because now they were face to face, barely inches apart, and the intensity in his golden eyes made her forget how to breathe. “What does it mean?” she asked. “It means I was right.” His hands were still on her arms, warm through her jacket. “You’re not just winter touched. You’re frost bloodline, the last of them probably.

And this temple, this sacred place, it knows you. I can’t be. My mother never said maybe she didn’t know. Maybe the bloodline was so diluted, so scattered that it skipped generations. He searched her face like he was looking for answers written there. Or maybe she knew and kept it secret to protect you.

 Protect her from what? From power? From destiny? From being something more than she’d been allowed to be. Denise pulled away from him, needing space, needing air, needing to think. She walked deeper into the clearing, aware of rust following at a respectful distance. The ruins seemed to hum around her, not audibly, but she felt it, a vibration in her bones, a resonance in her blood, like the stones were singing a song only she could hear.

If what you’re saying is true, she said slowly, not looking at him. Then why? Why me? Why now? Why would this power show up in someone like me? Weak, exiled, broken. You’re not broken. Russ’s voice was sharp. Say it again, and I’ll you’ll what? She spun to face him. Emotion finally breaking through her control. Force me to believe I’m special. Make me accept that I’m part of some ancient bloodline.

 I’ve spent my entire life being told I’m worthless. Russ, you can’t just show me some ruins and expect that to erase 23 years of She cut herself off, breathing hard. Russ closed the distance between them slowly, carefully, like approaching a spooked animal. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I can’t erase what they did to you. Can’t undo the damage.

 But I can show you the truth. Can help you see what you actually are instead of what they told you.” He gestured toward the temple. “That place responded to you, not to me, not to any other wolf. to you because it recognizes its own. And if I don’t want this, this, whatever this is, then we leave. Simple, direct. We go to my home.

 I teach you control and we never speak of this again. Your choice. But even as he said it, Denise felt the pull of the temple. Felt her wolf pacing inside her. no longer weak, but awake, alert, interested, like she’d been sleeping her whole life, and was finally, finally starting to wake up. Can I? She hesitated. Can I go inside? Russ’s expression was complicated. Yes, but I need to tell you something first.

What? He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. The temple is sacred ground. Ancient magic runs through it. If you go inside, if you touch the altar at its heart, it might show you things. Truth, memories, prophecies. He paused. It might change you. Change me how? I don’t know. The records are incomplete.

 But the last person who entered that temple, the last true Frost bloodline heir, walked out different, more powerful, more themselves, more themselves. What would that even mean for someone like her who’d spent so long trying to be less? Denise looked at the temple entrance, then back at Russ. Will you come with me? She heard herself ask. Surprise flickered across his face.

I’m not Frost Bloodline. The temple might not. I don’t care what the temple wants. I’m asking what you want. He stared at her for a long moment, and something passed between them. Understanding, maybe recognition. Yes, he said finally. If you want me there, I’ll come. She nodded, not trusting her voice.

 Together, they approached the temple entrance, and side by side, they stepped into the darkness beyond. Inside, the air was different. Colder, yes, but not uncomfortably so. It felt alive, charged with potential. Denise’s eyes adjusted quickly, and she realized the darkness wasn’t complete. Ice crystals embedded in the stone walls gave off a faint blue glow, just enough to see by.

 The temple was a single large chamber, circular like the clearing outside. Symbols covered every surface, carved into the floor, etched into the walls, somehow preserved despite centuries of abandonment. And at the center, raised on a deis, stood an altar made entirely of ice that somehow hadn’t melted. It was beautiful. It was terrifying.

 It was calling to her with a voice that bypassed her ears and spoke directly to her soul. Denise. Russ’s hand found hers in the darkness, squeezed gently. You don’t have to. But she was already moving, drawn forward like she’d been drawn to the cabin, like she’d been drawn to this clearing, like everything in her life had been pointing toward this moment without her realizing it.

 She reached the altar and placed both hands on its surface, and the world exploded into light. Chapter 5. Kingdom’s judgment. The light was everywhere and nowhere, inside her and outside her, tearing through every defense she’d ever built and showing her truths she’d never wanted to see. A woman with silver hair stands before this same altar, crown of ice glittering on her head.

 “The blood will remember,” she says, and her voice echoes through centuries. Even when the world forgets, the blood will remember. Wolves running through moonlit forests. Frost trailing from their paws. Ice forming in intricate patterns wherever they step. Not cursed, not broken. Powerful. A throne carved from frozen stone. Waiting, empty, calling.

 And a face, Russ’s face, watching from the shadows of memory as if he’d always been there, always been waiting. Denise gasped and pulled her hands back from the altar, stumbling backward into solid warmth. Russ caught her, his arms wrapping around her from behind, holding her steady while the visions faded and reality crashed back.

 “I’ve got you,” he murmured against her hair. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.” But she wasn’t safe. Would never be safe again because everything had changed. She could feel it. power, vast and ancient, stirring inside her like a hibernating beast waking up. Her wolf wasn’t weak anymore, wasn’t small.

 She was there, present and aware, and radiating cold that didn’t hurt, didn’t damage. That simply was. “What did you see?” Russ asked, still holding her. Denise turned in his arms. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. And met his eyes. I saw everything. The frost bloodline. Their power. Their She swallowed hard. Their end. His expression darkened. What happened to them? War.

 The word tasted like ash. They were hunted. Feared. Other packs banded together to destroy them because they were too powerful, too different. The last queen she fought. But Denise’s voice cracked. She died protecting her child.

 And the bloodline scattered, went into hiding, diluted itself over generations until it was just stories. Until you, until me, she repeated numbly. But I don’t understand why. Why would it come back now? Why in someone like me? Russ’s jaw tightened. Because power doesn’t die. It sleeps. Waits for the right moment. The right vessel. His hands were still on her arms, grounding. And you’re stronger than you know. I’m not.

 The temple suddenly shuddered. Not violently, but definitely. A tremor that ran through the stone floor, rattling ice crystals loose from the walls. Both of them tensed. Russ immediately pushing Denise behind him, his body going into protective mode. What was that? She whispered. I don’t know. He was scanning the space, every muscle coiled.

 The temple’s been dormant for decades. It shouldn’t. Another tremor stronger this time. And then voices, multiple voices, shouting from outside the temple. Alpha Mercer, we know you’re in there. Russ swore under his breath. something vicious and creative. Who is that? Denise’s heart was hammering. Do you know them? Yes.

 His expression had gone cold, distant. They’re from my pack. I thought you didn’t have a pack. It’s complicated. He was already moving toward the entrance, putting himself between her and whatever was coming. Stay behind me. Don’t speak unless I tell you to. Russ, trust me, please. The word please from an alpha felt wrong, but the urgency in his voice made her nod.

 They emerged from the temple into the clearing and found it no longer empty. Eight wolves stood among the ruins, all in human form, all radiating dominance and hostility. Seven males and one female, dressed for winter patrol, weapons visible.

 And at their center stood a man who looked like he’d been carved from granite, tall, scarred, with eyes like flint. Edmund, Russ said, and his voice was pure ice. You’re off your patrol wrote. The scarred man, Edmund, smiled without humor. Funny. I was about to say the same about you, your majesty. The title hung in the air like a blade. Denise’s mind stuttered. Your majesty.

 This is neutral territory, Russ said evenly. The temple ruins belong to no single pack. The temple ruins belong to the Lykan crown, Edmund interrupted. Which means they belong to you. And you’ve been neglecting your duties to the crown for 5 days now, hiding in that cabin while your kingdom waits. Kingdom, crown, Lykan king.

 Denise felt the pieces click into place with nauseating clarity. The power that radiated from him, the way he carried himself, the cabin that sat on sacred ground, the territory that was his. Russ wasn’t just an alpha. He was the alpha, the Lykan king. And he’d never told her. “My business is my own,” Russ said, his voice dropping into a register that made even Denise’s wolf want to bear her throat.

 “And you will address me with the respect my position demands,” Edmund, or I’ll remind you why I hold it. Edmund’s smile widened, showing too many teeth. Of course, my king, though I wonder, does this business have anything to do with the omega cowering behind you? Every wolf’s attention swung to Denise. She felt their stares like physical blows, assessment, curiosity, and in some cases, outright hostility.

 Her instinct screamed at her to make herself smaller, to disappear, to submit. But something else, something new, something that tasted like frost and ancient power made her lift her chin instead. “She’s under my protection,” Russ said, each word sharp as broken glass. “Touch her, threaten her, even look at her wrong, and I’ll consider it a personal insult.

” “Your protection!” Edmund’s gaze rad over Denise with open disdain. And what exactly does an exiled Omega offer in return for the Liykan king’s protection? What services does she provide that would make you abandon your throne for nearly a week? The insinuation was clear and vile. Denise felt rage, bright and cold, surge through her veins. Frost began forming on the ground at her feet, spreading outward in delicate patterns.

 Edmund noticed. They all did. Well, well, he said softly. Winter touched. How interesting. Enough. Russ’s command cracked through the clearing like a whip. State your business or leave. Our business is with you, King Mercer. The female wolf stepped forward. Lean, dangerous, with calculating eyes.

 The council has convened. They demand your presence. The council can wait. They’ve been waiting, she continued. While you play nursemaid to strays, while threats gather at our borders, while your people question whether their king even remembers they exist. Each word was a carefully aimed strike. Russ’s hands clenched into fists. My people know exactly where I stand. Do they? Edmund tilted his head.

Because from where we stand, it looks like you’ve chosen an exile over your kingdom, a broken omega over your sworn duties. Careful, Russ said, and something in his voice made several of the wolves take an involuntary step back. You’re very close to crossing a line. We’re trying to bring you back from one.

 Edmund’s expression shifted, and for just a moment, something almost genuine flickered there. Come home, Russ, the kingdom needs you. Whatever this is, he gestured at Denise. It’s not worth abandoning everything you’ve built. Denise felt something crack in her chest. Because he was right, wasn’t he? She was nobody. Nothing. An exile with a curse she couldn’t control and a bloodline she’d only just discovered.

 What was she compared to a kingdom? Compared to the responsibilities of a king. Nothing. She’d always been nothing. I’ll return when I’m ready, Russ said. But even Denise could hear the uncertainty creeping into his voice. The kingdom is secure. The borders are patrolled. My absence is temporary. Temporary? The female wolf laughed sharp and bitter. It’s been 5 days.

 5 days since anyone’s seen you. 5 days of rumors spreading that you’ve gone mad like your father. That you’re planning to abdicate. That you found some reason to abandon us all. My father. Russ’s voice went deadly quiet. has nothing to do with this. But something in the way he said it made Denise think that was a lie. Doesn’t he? Edmund pressed.

 The madness runs in bloodlines. Everyone knows that. The alpha who gets too isolated, too lost in his own head, who starts seeing threats where there are none. Enough. The word detonated through the clearing. And suddenly, Russ was no longer just a man. Power radiated from him. raw, primal, overwhelming.

 His eyes blazed gold, and every wolf in the clearing dropped to one knee except Edmund, who bowed his head, but remained standing. Denise felt the pressure of his dominance like a weight on her chest. But strangely, it didn’t hurt, didn’t force submission. It felt like recognition, like his power recognized something in her that resonated rather than resisted.

You forget yourself, Russ said, and his voice echoed with something ancient. I am your king, not your equal, not your friend, your king, and you will show the appropriate respect, or you will be removed from my service permanently. Silence fell heavy and charged. Then Edmund straightened, and his expression was carefully blank. Of course, your majesty, I meant no disrespect. Lie.

Total lie. But protocol demanded it be accepted. Russ took a breath, visibly reigning himself in. I will return to the palace within 3 days. Until then, maintain patrols, report any border incursions to the council, and do not, he emphasized the word, presume to summon me again. And the omega, the female wolf asked, eyes flicking to Denise. She comes with me to the palace.

Edmmond’s eyebrows rose. You’re bringing an unvetted exile into the royal residence. I’m bringing a wolf under my protection into my home, Russ corrected coldly. Where she goes is my decision, not yours, not the councils. Mine. The wolves exchanged glances, some worried, some disapproving, some calculating.

 As you command, my king, Edmund said, but the words dripped with something that wasn’t quite insubordination, but wasn’t quite loyalty either. He turned to leave, the others following. But before they disappeared into the trees, he looked back at Denise, really looked at her, and something in his expression made her blood run cold. “I hope you’re worth it, Omega,” he said softly.

 “For all our sakes.” Then they were gone, melting into the forest like shadows. The silence they left behind felt suffocating. Denise stood frozen, literally frost still spreading from her feet, staring at Russ’s back. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t turned to face her, just stood there rigid with tension, hands clenched at his sides. “Lyan, King,” she said quietly. “He flinched.

” “When were you going to tell me?” “Denise, when?” Her voice rose despite her efforts to control it. “After you brought me to your palace. after I met your counsel. When exactly did you plan to mention that minor detail? Finally, he turned and the anguish in his face almost stopped her anger. Almost. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react exactly like this, he said.

I knew you’d see the title instead of the person. The crown instead of instead of what? The man who’s been lying to me for 5 days. I never lied. You let me think you were just some lone alpha. She was shaking now, rage and hurt roaring inside her. You let me pour out my story, my shame, my pain, and the whole time you were the most powerful wolf in the north.

 You think that’s not a lie? I think it’s the only way you would have trusted me. His voice was raw. If I’d told you from the beginning, you would have been terrified. You would have tried to run. You never would have let me help you. That wasn’t your choice to make. It was. He closed the distance between them in two strides.

 You were dying, Denise, freezing to death. And if I’d announced myself as the Lykan king, you would have spent your last hours being terrified of me instead of letting me save you. You should have told me after, she said, hating the way her voice cracked. You should have trusted me with the truth. I was going to.

 He reached for her, then stopped himself. Today I was going to tell you today before we reached the palace, but then the temple responded to you and everything changed and and your wolves showed up to remind you that you have a kingdom to run and an exiled Omega is just a distraction. No, the word was fierce. You’re not a distraction.

 You’re what? She demanded what am I to you really? A responsibility? A project? Some lost cause you decided to rescue to make yourself feel better about what? What are you running from, your majesty? The title was meant to hurt. It did. You want the truth? Russ’s eyes blazed. Fine. Here’s the truth. My father went mad. Paranoid, violent, dangerous.

 He nearly destroyed the kingdom before the council forced me to put him down myself. I’ve spent 3 years rebuilding everything he broke. Holding together a kingdom that still questions whether I’ll follow in his footsteps. His voice dropped. I came to that cabin because I needed silence. Needed to breathe.

Needed one God’s damned moment where I wasn’t the king. Denise felt her anger falter. Russ. And then you appeared. His expression was raw, vulnerable, broken and freezing and fighting so hard to survive. And for the first time in years, I felt like I could help someone. Could be something other than a crown and a title. Could be just, he stopped. Just myself.

 The confession hung between them. You should have told me, Denise said again, but softer now. I know. He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly looking exhausted. I know, and I’m sorry, but I’m not sorry for saving you. And I’m not sorry for bringing you to the temple because you needed to know what you are, what you could be. And what’s that? He met her eyes. Free.

 The word hit her like a punch. Because that’s all she’d ever wanted, wasn’t it? To be free from judgment, from fear, from the cage of other people’s expectations. But freedom came with a price. And standing here in the ruins of an ancient temple with the Lykan king looking at her like she was something precious, Denise wasn’t sure she could afford it. I need to think, she said finally. I need space.

Pain flickered across his face, but he nodded. Of course. My home is 2 hours north. You’re welcome there as my guest for as long as you need. No obligations, no expectations. And if I want to leave, then I’ll provide supplies and safe passage to wherever you want to go. He said it without hesitation.

 I meant what I said, Denise. You’re not a prisoner. You never were. She believed him. That was the dangerous part. Lead the way, she said quietly. To your palace. Because despite everything, the lies by omission, the shock of his identity, the judgment of his wolves, she still trusted him. Still felt that pull between them, stronger now than ever.

Still wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, she’d finally found a place where she could belong, even if that place was beside a king. Chapter 6. Hearts unguarded. The palace wasn’t what Denise expected. She’d imagined something grand, imposing, cold, stone towers and vast halls that echoed with emptiness.

 The kind of place where kings lived in isolation, surrounded by servants and guards and the weight of their crown. Instead, Russ’s home was a sprawling lodge built into the side of a mountain, all dark wood and stone that seemed to grow from the landscape rather than dominate it.

 Smoke curled from multiple chimneys. Light glowed warm in the windows. It looked lived in, comfortable, almost inviting. “It was built by my great-grandfather,” Russ said, following her gaze. “He believed a king should live among his people, not above them. So, he built it large enough to house the council, visiting pack leaders, anyone who needed shelter.” He paused.

 though these days it’s mostly just me. The loneliness in those words made her chest ache. They approached through a side entrance, deliberately avoiding the main doors, Denise realized, avoiding the inevitable questions and stairs that would come from the household staff or guards. Inside was warm, blessedly warm, and Denise felt herself relax for the first time since Edmund and his wolves had appeared in the clearing.

 The entrance hall was modest compared to what she’d expected. Stone floors covered with thick rugs, walls lined with weapons and shields that looked both decorative and functional. A woman appeared from a doorway, older, gay-haired, with sharp eyes that missed nothing. She looked at Russ, then at Denise, and her expression shifted from surprise to something softer.

 “Your Majesty,” she said, inclining her head. “We weren’t expecting you back so soon. Change of plans, Margaret. Russ’s voice gentled in a way Denise hadn’t heard before. This is Denise Navaro. She’ll be staying in the East Wing guest quarters. She’ll need clothes, supplies, whatever she requires. Margaret’s gaze swept over Denise, assessing, but not unkind.

 Of course. Shall I have dinner sent to her room? To the library? Russ corrected. Well eat there. Something flickered in Margaret’s expression. approval maybe or curiosity. As you wish. She turned to Denise. Follow me, dear. Let’s get you settled. Denise glanced at Russ, who nodded. Go. I have a few things to handle.

 I’ll find you in an hour. She wanted to argue, wanted to stay close to the one familiar thing in this overwhelming place, but Margaret was already moving down the hallway, and Denise had no choice but to follow. The guest quarters were excessive. A bedroom three times the size of any space Denise had ever lived in. A private bathroom with a tub large enough to swim in.

 A sitting area with a fireplace already burning. Windows overlooking the forest stretching endlessly in all directions. The clothes should fit, Margaret said, gesturing to a wardrobe she’d already stocked. simple things, tunics, leggings, warm layers, nothing fancy. His majesty was very specific about that. Denise ran her fingers over the soft fabric, overwhelmed. This is too much nonsense.

Margaret moved to adjust the fire. You’re a guest of the king. This is standard hospitality. She paused, then added quietly. Though between you and me, he’s never brought anyone here before. Not like this. What do you mean? I mean, he’s had visiting alphas, council members, pack leaders, all the usual political necessities.

 But a personal guest, someone he clearly cares about. Margaret’s expression was knowing. That’s new, and trust me, dear, I’ve been running this household for 20 years. I know when something’s different. Denise didn’t know what to say to that. Margaret softened. You look exhausted. Would you like to rest before dinner? I’d like to bathe, actually.

 The admission felt vulnerable, but gods, she hadn’t been properly clean in over a week. Of course, take your time. I’ll have dinner ready when you are. Margaret headed for the door, then paused. And Denise, whatever brought you here, whatever your story is, you’re safe now. His majesty doesn’t take vows of protection lightly. Then she was gone, leaving Denise alone in luxury she didn’t deserve.

 She spent the next hour in the bath, scrubbing away days of dirt and fear and exhaustion. The hot water soothed muscles she’d forgotten could be pain-free. She washed her hair three times, watching the water run gray, then clear. And when she finally emerged and dressed in the simple clothes Margaret had provided, soft gray leggings and a deep blue tunic, she barely recognized herself in the mirror.

 She looked almost normal, almost like someone who belonged somewhere. The thought was dangerous. Russ was waiting in the library when she arrived. The room was circular, walls lined floor to ceiling with books, a fire roaring in a massive stone hearth. In the center sat a low table already set with food, roasted meat, fresh bread, vegetables and butter, and something that smelled like spiced wine.

He’d changed too, D out of his travelworn clothes into dark pants and a simple shirt. His hair was still damp from his own bath. He looked younger somehow, less guarded. And when he saw her, something in his expression softened. Better? He asked. Much? She approached the table cautiously, still feeling like an impostor in this space.

 Margaret’s efficient. She’s been with my family since I was a child. Russ gestured for her to sit. If you need anything, anything at all, she’ll make sure you get it. Sometimes before you even realize you need it. Denise settled onto the cushion across from him, hyper aware of how intimate this felt.

 Just the two of them in this quiet space with no storms or threats or watching wolves to complicate things. Just them. Eat, Russ said gently. You must be starving. She was. But first, the wolves in the clearing, she said. Edmund, he said you’ve been gone for 5 days. that the kingdom is worried. Russ’s jaw tightened. Edmund exaggerates. The kingdom is fine.

 I have capable people managing everything in my absence. But you are expected back. Yes. He poured wine into two cups, slid one toward her. The council convenes in 3 days. I need to attend. And after that, after that, I have duties. patrols to coordinate alliances to maintain the usual responsibilities of a king.

 He met her eyes, but that doesn’t change what I said. You’re welcome here for as long as you want. As what? The question slipped out before she could stop it. Your guest, your project, your friend. The word was quiet but certain. as my friend if you’ll let me be yours. Friend, it should have been enough.

 Should have been more than she dared hope for. But something in her chest twisted anyway, wanting something she had no right to want. I don’t know how to be friends with a king, she admitted. Then don’t think of me as one. He leaned forward slightly. When it’s just us, I’m just Russ. No crown, no title, just me. Is that even possible to separate yourself from your position? I don’t know, he said honestly, but I’d like to try.

 They stared at each other across the table, and the air felt charged with possibility. Then Denise’s stomach growled loudly, and the tension broke. Russ laughed, the sound warm and genuine. Okay, enough serious talk. Eat before you pass out. So she did. The food was incredible, rich, and perfectly seasoned, the kind of meal she’d only dreamed about during her exile. She ate slowly at first, trying to maintain some dignity, but hunger won out.

 Within minutes, she was devouring everything in reach, and Russ watched with obvious satisfaction. “Margaret will be pleased,” he said. “She complains I don’t eat enough.” “Do you?” I forget sometimes. Get caught up in work, in responsibilities, he shrugged. Living alone doesn’t help. No one to remind me to take care of myself.

You could take a mate, Denise said before she could stop herself. An alpha like you, you must have offers. Something dark crossed his face. I’ve had offers. I’ve declined them all. Why? He was quiet for a long moment, staring into his wine. Because taking a mate is supposed to be about partnership, connection, finding someone who sees you, not just what you can offer them. He paused.

 And everyone who’s approached me has seen the crown, never the man beneath it. The loneliness in his voice was devastating. “I see you,” Denise said quietly. His eyes snapped to hers. “What? I see you,” she held his gaze. Not the king, not the title. You, the man who found me dying and chose kindness, who builds fires and shares food and tells me I’m not broken when every cell in my body believes otherwise. She swallowed hard.

 I see you, Russ, and you scare me, but not because of your power, because of how much I want to trust you.” The admission hung between them, raw and vulnerable. Russ set down his cup with deliberate care like he didn’t trust himself to hold it. You scare me too. I do. Terrify me. His voice was rough. Because I’ve spent three years building walls around myself.

 Walls between the king and the man, between duty and desire, between what I need and what I want. He leaned forward, elbows on the table. And then you appeared and somehow, gods, I don’t even know how, you slipped past every defense I’ve built like they were made of paper. Denise’s heart was hammering.

 Why? Because you didn’t see the crown, he said simply. You saw me at my worst, isolated, hiding, running from my own kingdom. And you didn’t judge, didn’t demand. You just existed beside me. And for the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe. The confession was everything and nothing she’d wanted to hear. I don’t know what to do with this, she whispered. With you? With any of this.

Neither do I. He smiled, sad and genuine. But I’d like to figure it out if you’re willing. Was she willing to risk her heart on a king who carried more responsibilities than she could imagine? willing to believe she could be someone’s friend, someone’s equal, instead of just a burden to be managed.

 I’m not good at this, she said, at trusting, at letting people close. Neither am I. He reached across the table, hand palm up, offering. But maybe we can be bad at it together. Denise stared at his hand for a long moment. Then slowly she placed hers in his, his fingers closed around hers. warm, solid, real, and the connection between them sparked, electric and undeniable. “Friends,” she said.

 “Friends,” he agreed. But even as he said it, they both knew it was a lie. This, whatever this was between them, was already so much more than friendship, and infinitely more dangerous because of it. They talked late into the night about nothing and everything. Russ told her about growing up here, about his father’s descent into madness, about the weight of inheriting a broken kingdom and trying to piece it back together.

 She told him about her mother’s death, about the slow erosion of her place in Silverpine, about the shame that had become her constant companion. And somehow, in the telling, the pain became bearable. shared. Your father, Denise said during a lull in the conversation. Edmund mentioned madness runs in bloodlines. Are you worried that I’ll follow in his footsteps? Russ’s laugh was bitter. Every single day. That’s why I isolate myself.

 Why I came to that cabin? I watch for the signs. Paranoia, rage, seeing threats where there are none. He stared into the fire. Sometimes I wonder if I’m already lost and just don’t know it yet. You’re not lost. She said it with conviction. Lost people don’t save dying omegas. Don’t offer protection without asking for anything in return.

 Don’t see worth in the broken and cast aside. You’re not broken, he said automatically. And you’re not mad. She squeezed his hand, which she’d somehow never let go of. We’re just carrying more than we should, but that doesn’t make us defective. He looked at her, then really looked, and something in his expression made her breath catch.

 “How do you do that?” he asked softly. “Do what?” “Make me believe things I’ve stopped believing about myself.” “The same way you do it for me, I think.” She smiled, small but real. We see each other clearly without the filters everyone else uses. That’s a gift or a curse. Maybe both. They sat in comfortable silence, watching the fire burn down, hands still linked across the table.

 Eventually, Russ spoke again. The temple showed you things about your bloodline, your power. Are you going to explore it? Learn what you can do? Denise considered, “I don’t know. It’s terrifying. the idea that I might be something more. What if I can’t control it? What if I hurt someone? Then I’ll teach you.

 His grip tightened slightly. I’ve spent years learning to control my own power, my own rage. I know what it’s like to be afraid of yourself. And I know it’s possible to find balance. You do that? Train me? If you’ll let me? She studied his face. the sincerity there, the hope, the vulnerability that he probably showed to no one else.

Okay, she said finally. Teach me. His smile was like sunrise. We’ll start tomorrow. But tonight, he stood still holding her hand. Let me show you something. He led her through the lodge up a narrow staircase to a door that opened onto a balcony. And when they stepped outside, Denise gasped. The view was breathtaking.

 The forest stretched out below them, silver in the moonlight, and above. The stars were so bright and numerous, they seemed close enough to touch. The northern lights danced across the sky in ribbons of green and blue, and the world felt vast and magical and impossibly beautiful.

 “I come here when I need to remember why I do this,” Russ said quietly. Why I carry the weight? Why I keep fighting. It’s stunning. It is. But he was looking at her, not the view. Denise turned to find him watching her with an expression that made her heart stumble. There was want there, naked and undeniable, but also restraint, like he was holding himself back by sheer force of will. Russ, I know, he said quickly.

 I know this is complicated, that you’re still healing, that I’m your host and your king, and there’s a power dynamic that makes this. He gestured between them. Impossible. Is it? Her voice was barely a whisper. Impossible. He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel his warmth. It should be, but I can’t stop thinking about you. The confession was raw.

 Can’t stop wanting to know everything about you. Can’t stop imagining. He cut himself off, jaw- clenching. Imagining what? What it would feel like to kiss you? He admitted. Just once. To know if this connection between us is real or just loneliness making us both see things that aren’t there. Denise’s pulse thundered in her ears. And if it’s real, then we’re both in trouble.

 His hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone with infinite gentleness. Because I can’t offer you what you deserve. Can’t give you a normal life, a simple relationship. Everything with me comes with complications, politics, danger, responsibilities that will always take priority. I’m not asking for simple, she heard herself say.

 I’m just asking for honest. Honest? He laughed. The sound pained. Honestly, I want to kiss you so badly it’s taking every ounce of control I have not to. But I won’t. Not until you’re sure. Not until you’ve had time to heal, to decide what you want without the pressure of feeling grateful or obligated.

 I don’t feel obligated. You will, his hand dropped away. Eventually, that’s how these things work. the person with power, the person who saves you. You feel like you owe them and I won’t take advantage of that. I won’t be the person who makes you feel trapped. He was protecting her from himself.

 And somehow that made her want him even more. What if I kiss you? She asked. He went very still. What? You said you won’t kiss me. Fine. But you didn’t say I can’t kiss you. She stepped closer, emboldened by the shock on his face. So what if I do? What if I make the choice? Take the power. Decide what I want.

 Denise, do you want me to? Her hand settled on his chest, feeling his heart hammer beneath her palm. Because I think you do. I think you want this as much as I do. And I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel this. Whatever this is between us. You’re not ready. Maybe I’m not. She rose on her toes, bringing their faces inches apart.

 Or maybe I’m more ready than you think. Maybe I’m tired of being afraid, of holding back, of denying myself things because I’ve been told I don’t deserve them. His hands found her waist, gripping gently, not pushing her away, not pulling her closer, just holding. If you do this, he said, voice rough. There’s no going back. I won’t be able to pretend I don’t feel.

 He stopped himself. Feel what? Everything. The word was anguished. Everything I shouldn’t feel for you. Denise smiled and for the first time in her life felt powerful. Good. And then she kissed him. Chapter 7. Shattered choices. The kiss was everything and nothing like she’d imagined. Soft at first.

 tentative, questioning, like they were both afraid of breaking something precious. His lips were warm against hers, and his hands tightened on her waist. Not possessive, but grounding, like he needed to hold on to something real or he’d float away. Then Denise made a sound, half sigh, half surrender. And something in Russ broke.

 He pulled her flush against him, one hand sliding into her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. his other arm wrapped around her waist, and suddenly there was no space between them, no air, nothing but heat and want, and the devastating rightness of finally, finally giving in. Denise’s hands fisted in his shirt, and she kissed him back with everything she had.

 All the loneliness, all the longing, all the desperate hope she’d been too afraid to acknowledge. He tasted like spiced wine and something darker, something uniquely him. And she wanted more. Wanted everything. Wanted. Russ pulled back, breathing hard, resting his forehead against hers. Gods, he breathed. Denise, don’t. She tightened her grip on his shirt. Don’t 

apologize. Don’t tell me this was a mistake. Don’t. I was going to say that was even better than I imagined. His laugh was shaky, overwhelmed. And I’ve been imagining it for days. Relief flooded through her. Really? Really? He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then just below her ear, and she shivered. “You have no idea what you do to me.” “Show me,” she whispered, he groaned. “You’re killing me.” “Good.

” But when she tried to kiss him again, he caught her face in his hands, holding her still. “Wait, we need to talk about this. Why? Why do we need to ruin this by thinking?” because I need you to understand what you’re getting into.” His expression was serious now, the playfulness gone.

 If we do this, if we pursue whatever this is between us, it won’t be easy. My life is complicated, dangerous. There are people in this kingdom who will see you as a threat, as a distraction, as someone trying to manipulate their king. I’m not. I know that, but they won’t. His thumbs stroked her cheeks gently.

 And more than that, being close to me puts a target on your back. My enemies will use you against me if they can. Will threaten you to control me. You’re trying to scare me away. I’m trying to be honest. His eyes were fierce. I’m trying to give you a choice with full information.

 Because once you’re mine, once everyone knows you matter to me, there’s no going back to anonymity. No safety in being invisible. The word mine sent heat straight through her core. Maybe I don’t want to be invisible anymore, she said. Maybe I’m tired of hiding. Even if it means danger. Even then. She covered his hands with hers. I’ve spent my whole life playing it safe, making myself small, trying not to be noticed.

And where did it get me? Exiled, alone, nearly dead in a blizzard. So maybe it’s time I stopped running from things that scare me and started running toward things I want. And what do you want? You, she wanted to say. But that felt too raw, too vulnerable, too much for what they were.

 So instead, she said, I want to find out what this is, what we could be, if you’ll let me. Russ closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they burned gold. You’re sure? Terrified, she admitted, but sure. Then we do this carefully. His voice was firm, controlled, the king giving orders. Slowly, we don’t announce anything to the court. We figure out what this is between us before we expose it to scrutiny.

 Secret relationship? She raised an eyebrow. How very scandalous. Protective relationship, he corrected. I won’t have them tearing you apart before you’ve had a chance to He stopped himself. To what? To realize you deserve better than me. The words were so quiet, so broken that her heart cracked. Russ. She pulled his hands away from her face, threaded her fingers through his.

 You are not your father. You are not his madness. You are kind and strong, and you see me in a way no one else ever has. So, whatever voice in your head is telling you you’re not enough, it’s lying. He stared at her like she’d handed him something precious. How do you always know what to say? Because I know what it’s like to believe you’re worthless.

 She squeezed his hands, and I know how much it means when someone tells you you’re not. They stood there on the balcony, the northern lights dancing overhead, the world quiet and vast around them. Then Russ pulled her into his arms, not passionate, just holding. And Denise let herself be held. Let herself feel safe in a way she’d never felt before.

 “I should let you sleep,” he murmured against her hair. “You’ve had a long few days.” “So have you. I’m used to it.” “That doesn’t make it okay.” He pulled back enough to look at her, and his expression was soft. “Will you stay tomorrow? Let me start teaching you to control your gift. Yes. She didn’t even hesitate. Good.

 He pressed one more kiss to her forehead, chased, restrained, but full of promise. Sleep well, Denise. You too, your majesty. He groaned. Please don’t call me that. Why not? She grinned. It’s who you are. Not with you. His expression was serious again. With you, I’m just Russ always. And somehow that felt like the most important promise he’d made yet.

Denise woke to sunlight streaming through her window and a knock at the door. “Come in,” she called, sitting up. Margaret entered with a tray. “Good morning, dear. His majesty thought you might like breakfast in your room before training begins. Training? Right. Denise felt a flutter of nerves and excitement.

Training? He’s cleared his morning schedule. Margaret set the tray down. Fresh bread, eggs, fruit, tea. Said something about helping you with your wolf. She raised an eyebrow. He seemed quite determined about it. He’s He’s being kind. Hm. Margaret’s expression said she knew exactly what kind of kindness was happening. Well, eat up. You’ll need your strength.

 His majesty is thorough when he teaches. After Margaret left, Denise ate quickly, then dressed in the training clothes that had mysteriously appeared in her wardrobe, soft leggings, and a fitted tunic that allowed for movement. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she barely recognized the woman staring back.

 She looked healthy, rested, almost confident. It was terrifying how quickly she’d gotten used to this. Russ was waiting for her in a private courtyard behind the lodge, a circular space ringed by tall pines, the ground covered in packed snow. He’d changed into similar training clothes, and seeing him in casual attire, hair tied back, expression focused, did things to her pulse she tried very hard to ignore.

“Ready?” he asked. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be ready for. He smiled. To stop fighting your wolf and start listening to her. The next two days were the hardest and most rewarding of Denise’s life. Russ was a patient teacher, but demanding. He pushed her to shift, to hold the form despite the pain, to feel the cold building inside her without panicking or trying to suppress it.

 It’s part of you, he said over and over. Not something separate, not something to fear. When you fight it, it fights back. When you accept it, it flows. Easy to say, harder to do. But slowly, God’s so slowly, she began to understand what he meant. The cold wasn’t her enemy. It was her power. Responding to her emotions because she’d spent years believing it needed to be controlled, contained, hidden.

 The more she tried to suppress it, the more violently it emerged. But when she let it flow, when she accepted it as part of herself, it was beautiful. On the second afternoon, she shifted fully for the first time without agony. Her wolf emerged, silver white, and smaller than most, yes, but healthy, strong.

 And when she took a step, frost spread from her paws in intricate, deliberate patterns, not a curse, a gift. Russ shifted too, and gods, his wolf was magnificent, massive, dark furred with those same golden eyes. He moved beside her, not dominating, just present, and together they ran through the forest.

 For the first time in her life, Denise felt free. They returned to the courtyard as the sun set, both shifting back to human form, and Denise was laughing, actually laughing, as she caught her breath. That was incredible. She gasped. I’ve never I didn’t know it could feel like that. Russ was smiling, too. Genuine and warm. That’s what it’s supposed to feel like.

Joy, not pain. She wanted to kiss him again. Wanted to close the distance between them and thank him properly for giving her this gift. But before she could, a voice cut through the courtyard. How touching. They both spun. Edmund stood at the courtyard entrance, flanked by four other wolves. His expression was cold, calculating.

Edmund. Russ’s voice dropped into alpha command instantly. You’re not scheduled to be here. No, I’m not. Edmund’s smile was sharp. But when the council heard you were spending your days training in exile instead of attending to kingdom business, they thought someone should check in. I’m handling kingdom business.

Are you? Edmund stepped forward. Because from where I stand, you’re neglecting your duties. Missing meetings, ignoring reports, all for He looked at Denise with open disdain. Her. Watch your tone. Russ warned. Or what? You’ll punish me for speaking truth? Edmund’s laugh was bitter. The council wants answers, Russ.

They want to know why their king has become obsessed with an exiled Omega. They want to know if you’re compromised. I’m not. Then prove it. Edmund crossed his arms. Come to the council meeting tonight. Address their concerns. Show them you’re still fit to rule. It was a trap. Denise could see it clearly, forcing Russ to choose between supporting her and reassuring his kingdom.

 “I’ll be there,” Russ said tightly. “Good.” Edmund’s gaze flicked to Denise. “And bring her. Let the council meet this wolf who has so thoroughly captured their king’s attention. Absolutely not. It’s okay, Denise said quietly. I’ll go. Russ turned to her, expression horrified. You don’t have to. Yes, I do. She met his eyes.

 If I’m going to be part of your life, I can’t hide. And I won’t let them use me as a weapon against you. Something passed between them. understanding, respect, and underneath it all, fear. Because they both knew what was coming, the council wouldn’t welcome her, wouldn’t accept her, would see her as exactly what Edund claimed, a distraction, a weakness, a threat. But running had never worked before. So maybe it was time to fight.

The council chamber was everything Denise had feared. a vast circular room with a table at its center, seats for 12 council members, all occupied by wolves who radiated power and judgment. The air was thick with dominance, and every eye tracked her as she entered beside Russ.

 Members of the council, Russ said, his voice ringing with authority. I present Denise Navaro, currently under my protection and residing at the palace as my guest. Guest? The word came from an older female wolf at the table. Gray-haired, sharp featured, radiating disapproval.

 “Is that what we’re calling her?” “That’s what she is,” Counselor Gwendalyn Russ said evenly. “And how long does this guest intend to stay?” another council member asked. “As long as she wishes,” murmurss rippled around the table. Edmund stood from his seat. “Your majesty, the council has concerns. You’ve been absent from critical meetings. You’ve neglected border security reports.

 You’ve isolated yourself with an exile of unknown background and questionable loyalties. He paused. We’re worried you’re being manipulated. I’m not. Then explain. Gwendalin leaned forward. Explain why you brought her here. Explain what she offers that justifies the time and attention you’ve devoted to her. explain why we shouldn’t see her as a threat. Russ’s jaw clenched. She’s not a threat.

She’s She’s Frost bloodline. The words came from Denise. Not Russ. Every head swiveled toward her. What did you say?Wendalyn’s eyes narrowed. Denise stepped forward, heart hammering, but voice steady. I said I’m Frost Bloodline. The temple recognized me. My power isn’t a curse. It’s inherited from the old kings and queens who once ruled these lands.

Silence fell. Then Edmund laughed, sharp and cruel. Convenient. An exile claims ancient heritage the moment she needs to justify her presence. How very convenient. It’s not a claim, Russ said fiercely. I witnessed the temple respond to her. Saw her power awaken. She’s telling the truth. Or you want to believe she is. Gwendalyn interrupted.

Because it makes your obsession with her seem less like weakness and more like destiny. Her expression hardened. But we don’t deal in destiny, your majesty. We deal in facts. And the facts are that you’ve become distracted, isolated, and increasingly erratic since this Omega appeared.

 Erratic? Russ’s voice was dangerous. I’ve been nothing but consistent. You’ve been absent, Edmund cut in. And when you are present, you’re defensive, protective of her to the point of irrationality. Tell me, your majesty, if we ordered her to leave, would you comply? The question hung in the air. Denise felt her stomach drop because she could see the trap closing, could see exactly what they were doing, forcing Russ to choose between his duty and his feelings, between his kingdom and her.

 and she already knew which one he’d choose, which one he had to choose. “Don’t answer that,” she said quietly. Everyone looked at her. “Don’t answer,” she repeated louder now. “Because they’re not asking a real question. They’re trying to trap you.” She turned to face the council. “You want to know if I’m manipulating your king? I’m not. You want to know if I have ulterior motives? I don’t. I’m just a wolf who was dying and he saved me. That’s all.

That’s all. Gwendalyn’s tone was mocking. Then you won’t mind leaving voluntarily before you cause more damage. I She’s not leaving, Russ said, and his voice vibrated with alpha command. I’ve given my word of protection, and I don’t break my vows. Even for your kingdom, Edmund pressed.

 Even if keeping her means losing the council’s support, it was a threat, clear and direct. Denise felt panic rising. Russ, don’t. I said she stays. He moved to stand beside her, shoulderto-shoulder, united. And if the council has a problem with that, we can discuss it, but you will not threaten her. You will not force ultimatums, and you will not question my judgment in my own kingdom.

 Pride and terror wared in Denise’s chest because he was defending her, protecting her, choosing her over their approval, and it was going to destroy him.”Wendalyn stood slowly. “Then we have a problem, your majesty, because the council cannot support a king who puts personal attachments above kingdom security.” I’m not. You are. Edmund’s voice was softer now, almost pitying.

 And we can’t let history repeat itself, Russ went very still. What did you say? Your father became obsessed, Gwendalyn said quietly, fixated on things that weren’t real, on threats that didn’t exist. He isolated himself, pushed away his advisers, made decisions that nearly destroyed us all. She paused.

 We see the same patterns in you, and we can’t let it happen again. I am nothing like my father. Prove it. Edmund’s expression was almost gentle. Send her away voluntarily. Show us you can put the kingdom first. The words hit like a physical blow. Denise felt tears burning behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Do it, she whispered. Russ turned to her, shocked. What? Send me away.

 She forced herself to meet his eyes. They’re right. Your kingdom comes first. Your people need you. And I’m, her voice cracked. I’m just one wolf, not worth this. You’re worth everything, he said fiercely. Then prove them wrong. She reached up, touched his face gently.

 Prove you can make the hard choice, that you’re not compromised, that you’re the king they need. She saw the moment it broke him, saw the anguish in his eyes, the way his hands fisted at his sides, the way every part of him wanted to refuse. But she also saw the moment he realized she was right. I’ll arrange for supplies, he said. Voice hollow.

 Safe passage to wherever you want to go. Protection until No. Denise stepped back away from his touch. No protection, no ties. Just let me go, Denise. It’s better this way. She was backing toward the door now, vision blurring. Clean break. No complications. This isn’t. He took a step toward her. Don’t. The word cracked.

 Please don’t make this harder. And then she turned and ran. Ran from the council chamber, from the palace, from the king who’d made her believe for just a moment that she could be worth something. She heard him call her name, heard footsteps following, but she didn’t stop.

 She just ran into the forest, into the snow, into the darkness that had always been her only constant. And this time, she didn’t look back. Chapter 8. The power claimed. Denise ran until her lungs burned and her legs screamed for mercy. She ran until the palace was far behind her, until the lights disappeared and the forest swallowed her whole. She ran until she couldn’t hear Russ calling her name anymore.

 Couldn’t feel the pull between them trying to drag her back. She ran until she collapsed in the snow, gasping, sobbing, breaking apart in a way she hadn’t let herself break in years. Because this hurt worse than exile, worse than her pack’s rejection, worse than anything she’d ever experienced.

 This hurt because for a few days, just a few precious days, she’d believed she could be more than worthless. believed she deserved kindness, protection, maybe even something deeper. She’d believed in him, and he’d chosen his kingdom, just like she’d known he would, just like he had to. But it still hurts. The cold didn’t bother her anymore. She barely felt it as she lay in the snow, letting her tears freeze on her face.

 Her wolf was silent inside, not weak, not sleeping, just grieving. They’d both lost something tonight. something precious and terrifying and completely impossible. You knew this would happen, she whispered to herself. You knew better than to hope. But knowing didn’t make it hurt less. She didn’t know how long she lay there. Minutes, hours.

 Time had lost meaning again the way it had during her exile. Nothing mattered when you had nowhere to go, no one waiting, nothing but survival, and the endless question of why you bothered. Then crack. The sound of a branch breaking. Denise’s head snapped up, instinct flooding her with adrenaline. Her wolf surged forward, alert and defensive. Someone was coming.

 She scrambled to her feet, ready to run again, ready to fight if she had to, and froze. Three wolves emerged from the trees. Large battle scard moving with coordinated precision. Not palace guards, not Russ’s people. Rogues. Well, well, the largest one said, shifting to human form. He was massive, covered in scars with eyes that held no warmth.

 What do we have here? A little omega all alone in the northern king’s territory. Denise backed up a step. I’m leaving. I won’t cause trouble. Too late for that, sweetheart. Another wolf shifted, female, lean, and vicious looking. You’re already trouble. We’ve been watching the palace for days, waiting for an opportunity, and you just walked right into our claws. Understanding hit like ice water.

 They were going to use her as leverage, as bait, as a weapon against Russ. He won’t care, Denise said quickly. I’m nothing to him. He sent me away. We know. The leader grinned, showing too many teeth. We watched you run from that council meeting, heard everything through the windows, and we know exactly what you are to him, no matter what he told those politicians. You’re wrong.

 Am I? He tilted his head. Then why did he tear out of the palace after you? Why is he searching the forest right now, calling your name like a man possessed? Denise’s heart stuttered. He’s not. He is. The female wolf moved closer. Which means you’re valuable. And we’ve been looking for something valuable to trade.

Trade for what? Territory. Protection. The northern king’s been pushing into lands we’ve claimed, driving out packs who won’t submit to his rule. The leader’s expression darkened. Time to push back. And you’re going to help us. Denise’s wolf snarled inside her, and frost began spreading from her feet. The rogues noticed.

 Well, well, the leader said softly. Winter touched. Even better. The king does have interesting taste. Stay back, Denise warned, feeling power building inside her, cold and vast, and barely controlled. Or what? The female lunged. Denise reacted on pure instinct. Ice exploded from her hands, not wild, not uncontrolled, but directed.

 A wall of frost erupted between her and the rogues, thick and solid and glittering with deadly edges. They stumbled back, shocked. “She’s more than winter touched,” the third rogue breathed. “She’s Frost bloodline,” Denise said, and her voice echoed with something ancient. “And you should run.” But they didn’t run. They attacked. All three shifted at once.

 Massive wolves launching themselves at her from different angles. Denise didn’t think, just moved. Her own shift came easier than ever before. Her silver white wolf emerging in a heartbeat, and the cold came with her like a living thing. Frost spread across the ground in a circle, making it treacherous. Ice formed spikes that erupted from the snow.

 The temperature dropped so fast that moisture in the air crystallized, creating a shimmering fog. The rogues were strong, experienced fighters. But Denise was something else. She was power awakening. Bloodline remembering winter reclaiming its heir. And she was angry. Angry at the council for making her feel worthless again. Angry at herself for running.

 Angry at a world that had never given her a chance to be anything but broken. That anger fed her power, and her power was terrifying. And one of the rogues went down hard, slipping on ice and crashing into a tree. The female managed to get close, jaws snapping at Denise’s throat. But frost formed on her muzzle, her mouth making her yelp and pull back. The leader was more careful, circling, looking for an opening.

 “You can’t fight us all,” he growled. “Watch me.” And then a howl split the night. Not just any howl. A king’s howl. Commanding, furious, territorial. Russ. The rogues heard it too, and fear flickered across their faces. We need to go, the female said quickly. Not without her, the leader started. But before he could finish, a massive dark wolf exploded from the trees.

 And Denise had never seen anything so beautiful and terrifying in her life. Russ in his wolf form was enormous. easily twice the size of the rogues, radiating power that made the air vibrate. His golden eyes locked onto the leader, and the promise in them was unmistakable. Death. The rogues ran, all three of them, disappearing into the forest like shadows, and Russ let them go because his attention was entirely on Denise.

 He shifted back to human form, and she did the same, and for a moment, they just stared at each other across the frozen clearing. He looked devastated, hair disheveled, clothes torn from running through the forest, chest heaving with exertion. But worse, so much worse, were his eyes, raw with fear and fury, and something that looked heartbreakingly like relief. You’re hurt, he said horarssely.

 Denise looked down and realized there was blood on her shoulder, a scratch from the female rogu’s claws. Minor, barely painful. I’m fine. You’re not fine. He crossed to her in three strides, hands hovering over the wound like he was afraid to touch her. You’re bleeding. You’re in danger. You ran from the only safe place in this territory. You told me to leave.

 I never told you to leave. The words exploded out of him. I sent you away from the council meeting. Not from me. Not from the palace. Not from He cut himself off, breathing hard. From what? She demanded. Say it, Russ. What didn’t you want me to leave? His hands fisted at his sides. From me? I didn’t want you to leave me.

The confession hung between them, raw and vulnerable. But your counsel can go to hell. His voice was savage. All of them. Edmund, Gwendalyn, every wolf who made you feel like you had to run. They don’t get to decide who I care about. They don’t get to make me choose between duty and he stopped again.

 And what? And you? He grabbed her shoulders gently despite his intensity. Gods, Denise, when I realized you’d actually left. When I couldn’t find you. When I thought those rogues might have his voice cracked. I can’t lose you. I won’t. You’re the Lykan king, she whispered.

 You have responsibilities and I’m failing all of them if I lose myself in the process. His forehead dropped to hers. You asked me once why I care. Want to know the truth? Yes. Because you see me. The words were barely audible. Not the crown, not the power, not the legacy or the expectations. Just me. And when I’m with you, I remember who I wanted to be before the weight of this kingdom crushed everything else out of me. Tears burned her eyes. Russ, I love you.

 The words stopped her heart. What? I love you. He pulled back enough to meet her eyes. I’ve been falling since the moment you collapsed in my cabin. Since you looked at me with those defiant eyes and refused to let death take you. Since you trusted me enough to show me your scars. I love you, Denise.

 And I know it’s too fast, too complicated, too impossible, but it’s true. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only stare at this powerful, broken, beautiful man who’ just shattered her world with three words. “You can’t,” she managed. “I’m nobody. You’re everything.” His hands came up to frame her face. You’re brave and strong and powerful in ways you don’t even understand yet.

 You’re the frost bloodline heir. You’re winter incarnate. And more than that, you’re the woman I want beside me. Not behind me, not under my protection, but beside me. As my equal. I’m not your equal. Yes, you are. His voice was fierce. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you if you’ll let me. Denise felt something shift inside her.

 something fundamental and terrifying and absolutely right. The council will accept you or find themselves replaced. His expression hardened. I’m done letting others dictate my life. Done pretending I don’t need anyone. Done hiding from the one thing that makes me feel human instead of just a crown. And what’s that? You.

 He brushed his thumb across her cheek, gentle despite the intensity in his eyes. always you. And then the world exploded. Not metaphorically, literally. Light burst from Denise’s chest, brilliant blue white, freezing and blazing at once. Power flooded through her, vast and ancient and utterly overwhelming. The trees around them bent under the force of it. The ground trembled.

 Ice spread in every direction, forming intricate patterns that seemed to mean something she couldn’t quite grasp. And in her mind, a voice, the same voice from the temple, but louder now, undeniable. Claim what is yours. Remember what you are. Images flooded her consciousness. The frost queen standing before an army, crown glittering, power radiating from her like winter incarnate.

 Wolves bowing, not in submission, but in reverence. A throne not empty anymore, but waiting for her. You are not broken. You are becoming. And suddenly Denise understood the power wasn’t a curse. Wasn’t even just a gift. It was her birthright, her legacy.

 The thing she’d been running from her entire life because she’d been taught to fear it instead of claim it. But she wasn’t running anymore. The light faded and Denise found herself standing in a circle of perfect ice. frozen flowers, crystallin trees, patterns so beautiful they looked like art. And at the center, still holding her, was Russ. “What was that?” he breathed.

 “That,” she said, and her voice echoed with newfound certainty, “was me remembering who I am.” She looked at him, really looked, and saw not a king she needed to serve, but a partner she wanted to choose. I love you, too, she said. I’ve been terrified to admit it. Terrified to want something I thought I couldn’t have, but I’m done being afraid.

 His smile was like sunrise. Yeah. Yeah. She pulled him down and kissed him, fierce and claiming, and full of every emotion she’d been too scared to name. And this time, when power flared between them, it wasn’t just hers. His wolf rose to meet her ice, and together they created something new.

 Balance, partnership, two halves of a hole that had been incomplete until now. When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Russ was grinning. We’re going back to the palace, he said. What? Right now, together. His expression turned determined. And we’re facing the council together because I’m done hiding what you mean to me. done letting them dictate my choices. They’ll fight you.

Let them try. He took her hand, threaded their fingers together. You said it yourself. Your frost bloodline. The temple chose you. The land chose you, and I choose you. Let them argue with that. Denise felt something unfurl in her chest. Not hope. Something stronger. Certainty.

 Then let’s go claim what’s ours, she said. And together, hand in hand, power to power, equal to equal, they walked back toward the palace, back toward a future that terrified and exhilarated them both. Back toward a destiny neither of them had chosen, but both of them were ready to fight for. Chapter nine. Crown and claiming.

 The palace came into view just as dawn broke over the mountains, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. Denise had never approached it from this angle, from the forest, from the wild, as something other than a refugee seeking shelter. Now, walking beside Russ with her hand in his, she felt different, taller, stronger, like she belonged.

 The guards at the entrance saw them coming and immediately straightened, eyes widening at the sight of their king, returning hand in hand with the Omega the council had wanted gone. Your Majesty,” one of them said, uncertain. “The council is still in session. They’ve been waiting.

” “Good,” Russ said, and his voice carried the weight of command. “Let them wait a little longer.” He led Denise not to the council chamber, but to his private quarters, a suite she’d never seen before. spacious but not ostentatious with large windows overlooking the forest and personal touches that made it feel livedin rather than ceremonial. “You need to clean up,” he said, gesturing to her torn clothes, the blood on her shoulder, the frost still clinging to her hair. “And so do I.

We’re not facing them looking like we’ve been through a war, haven’t we?” His smile was grim. The war is just beginning, but we’re going to win it looking like the royalty we are. Royalty. The word should have felt foreign. Instead, it settled over her like a mantle she’d been meant to wear all along. Margaret appeared within minutes as if she’d been waiting, and took charge immediately.

 She tended to Denise’s wound, helped her bathe, then produced clothes that made Denise’s breath catch. Not simple training clothes or borrowed tunics. These were garments fit for someone important. A dress of deep midnight blue that flowed like water with silver embroidery at the collar and cuffs that looked like frost patterns, soft leather boots, and a cloak white as snow lined with silver fur that felt both elegant and powerful.

 “Where did these come from?” Denise asked, touching the fabric reverently. Margaret’s smile was knowing. His majesty commissioned them three days ago. Said he wanted you to have clothes befitting your station. I don’t have a station. Don’t you? Margaret’s expression was gentle. Your frost bloodline, dear.

 The heir to an ancient power, and more than that, you’re the woman who’s captured the heart of a king who’d given up on ever being seen as anything but his crown. She adjusted the cloak. That’s a station all its own. When Denise finally looked at herself in the mirror, she barely recognized the woman staring back.

 She looked regal, powerful, like someone who belonged in a palace beside a throne, like a queen. The thought should have terrified her. Instead, it felt inevitable. Russ was waiting when she emerged, and the way he looked at her made her forget how to breathe. He’d changed, too. formal attire in black and silver, his hair pulled back, the crown he rarely wore sitting perfectly on his head.

 He looked every inch the king, commanding and untouchable, until he saw her. Then his expression softened, and he crossed to her in three strides, taking both her hands in his. You’re stunning, he said quietly. But more than that, you look like you’ve finally seen what I’ve been seeing all along.

 And what’s that? Someone worthy of standing beside me. Someone powerful enough to challenge me. Someone brave enough to claim what’s hers. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. My equal in every way that matters. Denise’s throat tightened. I’m terrified. So am I. His smile was crooked, but we’re terrified together. That counts for something.

 What are we going to tell them? The truth. his expression hardened. That your frost bloodline, that you’re under my protection, and that anyone who challenges your place here will answer to me personally. And us? She gestured between them. What we are? He was quiet for a moment, and she saw him wrestling with something. Then he lifted her hand to his chest right over his heart.

 I want to tell them you’re my mate, he said softly. that I’ve chosen you and no council vote or political maneuvering will change that. But he paused. Only if you want that. Only if you’re ready for what that means. Mate, the word carried so much weight in wolf culture. Permanence, partnership, a bond that couldn’t be broken except by death.

 I’m exiled, Denise said, needing him to understand. I have no pack, no status, nothing to offer you politically. You’re offering me yourself. His grip tightened. That’s everything. The council will fight it. Let them. There was steel in his voice now. I’ve spent 3 years doing everything they asked, putting the kingdom first.

 Sacrificing every personal desire for the good of my people. But this, you won’t sacrifice. I can’t. Denise looked up at him. This powerful, lonely king who’d somehow found her in a blizzard and decided she was worth fighting for. And she made her choice. Then let’s tell them, she said, “Together.” The relief that crossed his face was beautiful. “You’re sure?” Terrified, she admitted.

 “But sure, because you’re right. I’m done running, done hiding, done letting others decide what I’m worth. She straightened, feeling power settle into her bones. I’m Frost Bloodline. I’m Winter incarnate, and I’m the woman who chose to stand beside the Lykan king. Let them deal with that. Russ’s laugh was pure joy. Gods, I love you. I love you, too.

 She rose on her toes and kissed him. Not long, just enough to seal the promise. Now, let’s go show them what choosing ourselves looks like. The council chamber fell silent when they entered. All 12 council members were present along with Edmund and several highranking wolves from various packs.

 Every eye tracked Denise and Russ as they walked to the head of the table, side by side, hands clasped, united. Your Majesty, Gwendalyn said coldly. We weren’t expecting you to return with her. Her name is Denise Navaro, Russ said, and his voice carried command that made several wolves flinch. And you will address her with respect.

 Respect must be earned. She’s earned it. He cut her off. by surviving exile. By crossing hostile territory alone, by awakening the power of the Frost bloodline that’s been dormant for over a century. By facing you, all of you, when most would have run,” he paused. “She’s earned it by being brave enough to stand here when every instinct tells her to hide.

” Denise felt strength flow from their clasped hands into her spine. “I am Frost Bloodline,” she said, and her voice echoed with power. The temple recognized me. The land answered me. And whether you accept it or not, I am heir to the ancient magic that once protected these territories. Convenient timing, Edmund said that you discover this supposed heritage the moment you need legitimacy. Would you like proof? The question silenced him.

 Denise released Russ’s hand and stepped forward. She could feel the cold rising inside her. Not wild, not uncontrolled, but responsive, waiting. She raised one hand, and ice formed in her palm, not rough or jagged, but perfect. A crystallin flower, intricate and beautiful, that caught the light and threw it back in rainbow patterns.

 Then she closed her fist, and the flower shattered. But instead of falling, the ice transformed into snow that swirled around her in a controlled spiral before settling gently on the council table, where it spelled out words in perfect frozen script. The blood remembers the same words from her vision, from the temple, from the last frost queen. The council stared.

 “This power,”Wendalin said slowly, “ould be dangerous, uncontrolled. It’s not uncontrolled. Russ’s voice was sharp. I’ve been training her, helping her learn to wield what she carries, and in two days she’s shown more mastery than most wolves achieve in years. Because it’s her birthright, another council member, a younger male, said thoughtfully.

 If she truly is Frost bloodline, then this power is as natural to her as shifting is to us. Exactly, Russ said. But that doesn’t address the real issue. Edmund leaned forward. Even if we accept her heritage, which is still questionable, what is her place here? What role does an exiled Omega play in this kingdom? This was it, the moment of truth.

 Russ looked at Denise, question in his eyes. She nodded. She’s my mate, Russ said, and the words rang through the chamber like a bell. I’ve chosen her. She’s chosen me. And as Lykan king, I claim her before this council and all witnesses. The silence was deafening. Then chaos erupted. You can’t. She has no standing. The king’s mate should be chosen for political advantage. This is madness.

Enough. Russ’s command cracked through the room like thunder, and every wolf fell silent, necks bearing in instinctive submission to alpha dominance. I am your king, he said, and power radiated from every word. Not your puppet, not your tool, your king. And I will choose my mate based on who I want beside me, not who serves your political ambitions.

 Your father, Gwendalin started, my father is dead. The words were brutal. And I am not him. I have served this kingdom faithfully for 3 years, rebuilt what he destroyed, secured borders, negotiated alliances, led you through crisis after crisis without complaint, and now for once I’m choosing something for myself, someone for myself.

 He turned to Denise and his expression softened. “She makes me want to be better,” he said quietly. “Makes me remember why I fight for this kingdom instead of just surviving the weight of it. And if you can’t accept that, if you can’t see that a king who remembers his own humanity is stronger than one who’s lost it, then you’re the ones who are unfit to lead.

 The words hung in the air. Then impossibly the young council member who’d spoken earlier stood. I support this claim, he said clearly. If she’s truly Frost Bloodline, then her union with the Lykan king strengthens our kingdom. Ancient power returned. Bloodlines united. That’s not weakness. It’s destiny. Another council member stood, then another.

 Not all of them.Wendalyn remained seated, expression furious. Edmund’s jaw was tight. Several others looked conflicted, but enough stood, enough to matter. The claim is witnessed, the young council member said formally. By law, the king’s choice of mate stands unless twothirds of the council votes against it. A vote was called.

 Denise felt her heart hammering as each council member declared their position. Seven in favor, five against. It was enough. Barely. Gods. So barely, but enough. The motion fails, the young council member announced. The king’s mate claim is recognized. Denise felt Russ’s hand find hers again, squeezing tightly. They’d won. Not completely.

 not with unanimous support, but they’d won. There will be a formal ceremony, Gwendalyn said coldly. To make this official, and we will be watching her, your majesty closely. Watch all you want, Russ said. You’ll find she’s exactly what I claimed, my equal, my partner, and more than worthy of standing beside me.

 He turned to Denise and in front of the entire council, pulled her close and kissed her. not chased, not diplomatic, but claiming a statement that she was his, he was hers, and nothing would change that. When they finally broke apart, several council members were looking away, uncomfortable.

 But Denise didn’t care because for the first time in her life, she felt like she’d found where she belonged. Not despite being different, but because of it. Later, much later, after the council had dispersed and the palace had settled into evening quiet, Denise found herself back on the balcony where they’d first kissed. Russ joined her, wrapping his arms around her from behind, and they stood together, watching the northern lights dance.

 “We did it,” she said softly. “We did.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “How do you feel?” “Terrified. Exhilarated. like I jumped off a cliff and discovered I could fly. His laugh rumbled through her. That’s about right. Gwendalyn and Edmund won’t stop, Denise said. They’ll keep trying to undermine this to find reasons I’m not worthy. Let them try.

His arms tightened. I meant what I said. You’re my equal, my choice, and I’ll spend every day proving to anyone who doubts it that I was right. What if you weren’t? The fear slipped out before she could stop it. What if they’re right and I can’t do this? Can’t be what you need. Hey. He turned her to face him. You’ve already been what I need.

 You saw me when no one else could. Reminded me who I was before the crown tried to erase everything else. You didn’t save me despite being just an omega. You saved me because you’re strong enough to be honest, brave enough to be vulnerable, and powerful enough to stand beside a king and not be diminished. Tears burned her eyes.

 How do you always know what to say? Because I love you. He brushed a tear away with his thumb, and love sees clearly. Denise pulled him down and kissed him soft and slow and full of promise. “What happens now?” she asked against his lips. Now, his smile was warm.

 Now we figure out what it means to rule together, to balance duty and desire, to be king and queen instead of just king. Queen. The word felt impossible. I’m not. You are. He took her hand and pressed it over his heart. The council recognized it. The land recognizes it. and I recognize it. You’re my mate, Denise. That makes you queen, whether you’re ready for the title or not.

 She thought about that, about the broken Omega who’d stumbled into a cabin to die. And the woman standing here now, powerful, chosen, claimed. “I’m ready,” she said, and realized it was true. “I’m terrified, but I’m ready. Then let’s do this together.” He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. You and me, winter and king, creating something new.

 And standing there under the northern lights, wrapped in each other’s arms, Denise finally believed, believed she was worthy, believed she belonged, believed that maybe, just maybe, the girl who’d been told she was too broken to deserve love had actually been powerful enough to transform everything she touched, including a king’s frozen heart. Chapter 10. The epilogue.

 3 months later, winter had fully claimed the Northern Territories, transforming the landscape into a frozen wonderland that Denise now understood wasn’t harsh. It was home. She stood in the same courtyard where Russ had first trained her. But everything was different now.

 The space had been expanded, reinforced, transformed into a proper training ground. And she wasn’t alone. Six wolves, all young, all struggling with gifts they’d been told were curses, practiced around her, learning to embrace powers that ranged from fire touch to storm calling to one young male whose wolf could phase through solid objects.

 “Remember,” Denise called out, watching a teenage girl try to control flames dancing in her palms. “The power isn’t your enemy. It’s part of you. When you fight it, it fights back. When you accept it, it flows,” the girl finished. And this time, when she breathed out, the flames shaped themselves into a perfect bird that flew in a circle before dissipating harmlessly. Pride swelled in Denise’s chest.

 3 months ago, this girl had been exiled from her pack for accidentally setting a barn on fire. Now, she was creating art with the same power that had condemned her. Beautiful work, Carmela,” Denise said warmly. “That’s real control.” The girl, Carmela Cox, according to the records, beamed again, Denise instructed the group, “And this time, try to hold your forms longer. Steady breath, steady power.

” She moved through the training ground, offering corrections and encouragement, and marveled at how far she’d come. from the Omega who couldn’t control her own gift to the teacher helping others master theirs. It had been Russ’s idea, creating a sanctuary for gifted wolves who’d been rejected by their packs.

 A place where being different wasn’t a curse, but a calling. The Frost Haven, he’d called it during the council meeting where he’d proposed it. A training ground and safe haven for wolves with elemental gifts overseen by Queen Denise herself. Queen Denise. The title still felt surreal, even after the formal mating ceremony two months ago, even after the crown, delicate silver with frozen sapphires, had been placed on her head, even after the entire kingdom had witnessed Russ claim her before the old gods, and knew she was queen of the northern Lykan territories. And somehow, impossibly, she was good at it.

Your Majesty. Denise turned to find Margaret approaching, wrapped in furs against the cold that didn’t bother Denise anymore. The delegation from the Eastern Paxs has arrived, Margaret said. His majesty asks if you’ll join him for the welcoming ceremony. Denise glanced at her students who were deep in concentration. Keep practicing, she called. I’ll be back in an hour.

 Carmela, you’re in charge. Anyone loses control, you know the protocols. Yes, your majesty. Carmemella’s voice rang with pride at being trusted. Denise followed Margaret through the palace, her palace now, strange as that still felt, toward the main hall. Servants nodded respectfully as she passed. Guards saluted.

 3 months ago, she would have felt like an impostor. Now she simply nodded back with the easy confidence of someone who belonged. The main hall was magnificent. high ceilings, banners from every pack in the Northern Territories, and at the center, two thrones.

 One of dark wood and silver for the king, one of white wood and ice blue crystals for the queen. Russ stood beside his throne, dressed in formal attire, looking every inch the powerful ruler he was. But when he saw Denise enter, his expression softened in that way that was only for her. There you are, he said, crossing to meet her halfway.

 How are the students improving daily? She let him take her hand, their fingers intertwining naturally. Carmela created firebirds today. Controlled ones. Pride flickered in his eyes. You’re an incredible teacher. I had an incredible teacher first. She squeezed his hand. Your majesties. A voice interrupted. Edmund stood in the doorway, his expression neutral now, though Denise knew he still disapproved of her.

 But he’d learned to hide it, to respect the king’s choice, even if he didn’t understand it. The Eastern delegation is here, Edmund said. Alpha Wallace Robertson and his advisers. Show them in, Russ commanded. Edmund bowed and disappeared. Ready? Russ murmured. Always. It was true.

 In the past 3 months, she’d learned to navigate pack politics, council meetings, territorial disputes, and diplomatic relations. She’d learned that being queen meant more than wearing a crown. It meant using her voice, her power, her presence to make the kingdom stronger. And she’d discovered she was good at it. The eastern alpha entered, a grizzled older wolf with assessing eyes. He bowed to Russ, then turned to Denise, and his expression shifted to something like wonder. “Queen Denise,” he said.

“The rumors don’t do you justice. They say your frost bloodline that you command winter itself.” “The rumors are accurate,” Denise said evenly. “And they say you’ve created a sanctuary for gifted wolves.” Wallace’s tone was carefully neutral. that you welcome those other packs have rejected. There it was the real reason for this visit.

 I have Denise said because power shouldn’t be punished. It should be understood, trained, channeled into something that strengthens rather than threatens. Wallace was quiet for a moment. Then I have a wolf in my pack, young, stormtouched. She can call lightning when she’s afraid. and it’s caused damage. My advisers want her exiled.

 And you? Denise asked. I want to know if your sanctuary is real. If you can help her learn control instead of just surviving. Denise felt Russ’s hand tighten on hers. Support. Pride. Trust. Send her to me, Denise said. I’ll teach her what I’ve learned. That our gifts aren’t curses. They’re just power waiting for understanding.

 Relief flooded Wallace’s face. “Thank you, your majesty. You have no idea what this means.” “I do, actually,” Denise smiled. “Because 7 months ago, I was her. Exiled, afraid, certain I was broken beyond repair. And then I found someone who saw potential instead of problems. So, yes, send her. She’ll be safe here.” The meeting continued.

 discussions of territory, trade, alliances. But Denise’s mind kept returning to that storm-touched girl, terrified and alone, thinking she was cursed. She would help her, teach her, show her what Russ had shown Denise, that being different wasn’t weakness. It was power waiting to be claimed. That evening, after the delegation had been housed and fed, Denise found Russ in the library where they’d shared their first real meal together.

 He was at the window staring out at the forest, and she could see tension in his shoulders. “What’s wrong?” she asked, crossing to him. “Nothing’s wrong.” He pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on top of her head. I’m just thinking about about how different everything is. His arms tightened. 3 months ago, I was alone, isolated, carrying the weight of this kingdom on my own and slowly being crushed by it. He pulled back to look at her.

 Now I have you have a partner who understands the burden because she carries her own. have someone who makes me laugh, challenges me, reminds me why I fight. Denise’s throat tightened. You saved me. No. He cupuffed her face gently. You saved yourself. I just gave you space to remember how strong you already were. We saved each other. She corrected.

His smile was soft. Yeah, we did. They stood like that for a long moment, just breathing together, finding peace in each other’s presence. I got a letter today, Denise said quietly. From Silverpine. Russ tensed. What did it say? That they heard about the Frost bloodline awakening, about me becoming queen. She swallowed hard. The alpha.

 He apologized. said if he’d known what I was, he never would have exiled me, that I’d be welcome to return. No. Russ’s voice was sharp. I know. She smiled up at him. I already sent my response, told him I didn’t need his acceptance anymore, that I’d found a place where I’m valued for who I am, not what I can offer, that I’m home.

 Relief flooded his expression. You are home. This is your place, your kingdom, your family, she finished. Because that’s what we’ve built here, isn’t it? Not just a kingdom, but a family for wolves who didn’t fit anywhere else. Yes, he kissed her forehead. And it’s only the beginning.

 More gifted wolves will come, more refugees, more exiles, more wolves who need to know they’re not broken. And we’ll help them, Denise said with certainty. Because we remember what it’s like to feel worthless. and will make damn sure no one else has to carry that weight alone. Russ’s laugh was warm. You know, when I found you in that cabin, I thought I was just saving one life.

 And instead, instead, you saved a kingdom. He pulled her close. Saved a king. Saved everyone who comes here looking for hope. We did it together, she insisted. Together, he agreed. always. Later that night, Denise stood on the balcony, their balcony now, where they’d first kissed, where they’d first admitted what they meant to each other.

 The northern lights danced overhead, and she could feel the land humming beneath her feet. The frost, the cold, the ancient power that had once terrified her. It was all connected now. Part of her, not separate, not other, just hers. Russ joined her, wrapping a cloak around her shoulders, even though she didn’t need it. What are you thinking about? He asked. About the girl I used to be. Denise leaned back against him.

 The one who believed she was a mistake, who thought the best she could hope for was to disappear quietly and stop being a burden. And now, now I’m queen of the Northern Territories, mate to the Lykan King, teacher to gifted wolves who need hope. She turned in his arms. I’m powerful, valued, loved, everything I never thought I could be.

 You always were those things, Russ said. You just needed someone to reflect them back until you could see them yourself. Thank you. The words felt inadequate for everything he’d given her, for seeing me, for choosing me, for not giving up, even when I ran. I couldn’t give up. His smile was crooked.

 You’d already stolen my heart. Had to get it back somehow. She laughed and kissed him, soft and sweet and full of promise. “I love you,” she said. “I love you, too.” He rested his forehead against hers. My queen, my mate, my equal. You’re everything, she added. Always.

 They stood together under the dancing lights, two broken wolves who’d found each other in a storm and built something beautiful from the wreckage. And in the distance, Denise heard wolves howling. Her students, her pack, her family. Wolves who’d been cast out and found home. Who’d been told they were cursed and learned they were blessed. Who’d discovered that being different wasn’t a weakness. It was a crown waiting to be claimed.

Epilogue. Six months later, the throne room was packed. Wolves from every territory, north, south, east, and west had gathered for what some were calling the most significant event in a generation, the first gifted summit. Denise stood before them, crown glittering on her head, rust beside her, and felt no fear, only purpose. For too long, she said, her voice carrying through the chamber.

Gifted wolves have been treated as threats, as curses, as problems to be solved through exile or execution. She paused. But we are not problems. We are power. And it’s time the world recognized the difference. She raised her hand and ice formed above the gathered crowd.

 Not threatening, but beautiful crystalline structures that caught the light and threw it back in rainbow patterns. A demonstration of control, of mastery, of potential. The Frost Haven has trained 23 gifted wolves in the past 6 months. Denise continued, “Firetouched, stormcalled, earthbound, shadow walkers. Every one of them was exiled. Every one of them was told they were broken. She smiled.

 And every one of them is now a productive member of this kingdom, using their gifts to protect, to build, to strengthen. She let the ice dissipate gently, snow falling like blessing. This summit is an invitation, she said. Send us your gifted, your rejected, your feared. We will teach them what they are. not curses but blessings.

 And together we will build a future where power is celebrated, not condemned. The room erupted in discussion, some supportive, some skeptical, all engaged. Russ squeezed her hand, pride radiating from him. And Denise, the omega who’d once been considered worthless, who’d nearly died alone in a blizzard, who’d been told her entire life that she was a mistake, stood before the assembled packs as queen.

 Not despite her difference, but because of it, because she’d learned the truth that every outcast needed to hear. You don’t have to be perfect to be worthy of love. You just have to be brave enough to let yourself be seen. And gods, she’d been so brave. They both had closing reflection. Thank you for staying with Denise through the storm and the fire. For believing she deserved love even when she couldn’t believe it herself.

Maybe you felt like her. Too much of one thing, not enough of another. Split between worlds, belonging nowhere. But here’s what her story teaches us. The things we’re told to hide are often the things we’re meant to share. If this story moved you, I’d love to hear what moment resonated most with you.

 What power would you have if you could have one? Or simply, did you believe she deserved her happy ending? Your thoughts matter to me, every single one. And if you want more stories like this, tales of outcasts who become legends, of monsters who turn out to be heroes, of love that sees past the surface to the soul. Subscribe to this channel because here we tell stories about the ones who don’t fit, the ones who were told they’re too much or not enough, the ones who learn that being different isn’t a curse. It’s a calling.

 Until the next story finds us, remember, you don’t have to be perfect to be worthy of love. You just have to be brave enough to let yourself be seen. With all my heart, thank you for being