Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

LANDON

L andon glanced over at Dakota as the pickup truck bounced along the dusty road leading back to Copper Canyon Ranch. The sun cast a golden sheen over her features, but the usual fire in her eyes had dimmed to smoldering embers. Her listlessness was almost tangible, and it stirred within him an acute sense of unease.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his voice roughened by concern as he navigated the familiar terrain.

"Just tired, I guess," Dakota replied, her words trailing off like the dust kicked up behind them.

His shifter instincts prickled beneath his skin, a silent whisper that spoke of changes unseen. Something was amiss—something more than mere exhaustion. He could almost feel the latent wolf inside her stirring, responding to his presence with an instinctive recognition. It occurred to Landon that perhaps Dakota might have some kind of dormant blood that was awakening, aligning with the part of her destined to shift and run with the pack. There were tales of such things, but he'd always dismissed them.

The air around them hummed with a tension that had nothing to do with the fading daylight or the coyotes beginning their nightly chorus. It was the tension between two beings drawn together by an ancient, unseen force—a bond that was both a gift and a curse.

He remembered the night before, how the moonlight had played across her skin, how each breath she took seemed to pull him closer, an invisible thread weaving around his heart. The urge to mark her, to claim her as his mate, had been almost overwhelming. Yet somewhere in the depths of his restraint, Landon had sensed something more within Dakota—a dormant power waiting to be awakened.

"Maybe you should rest when we get back," he suggested, his gaze lingering on her profile, the curve of her cheekbone illuminated by the last rays of sunlight filtering through the cab.

Dakota nodded silently, her eyes fixed on the horizon where the sky melted into shades of purple and orange. The world outside was a portrait of tranquility, but inside the truck cab, a storm was brewing, charged with the electricity of unspoken truths and hidden identities.

As they approached the ranch, the silhouette of the main house rose against the twilight sky—sturdy and unyielding, much like the man who drove towards it. The scent of wild sage filled the air, mingling with the more subtle undertones of pine and leather from Landon's well-worn jacket.

"Thanks for picking me up," Dakota murmured as Landon brought the truck to a stop near the house.

"Anytime," he replied, his voice low and steady, yet beneath the surface, his thoughts raced with the urgency of the secret he kept nestled deep within his chest.

They climbed out of the truck, and Dakota swayed slightly, her exhaustion evident. With a swift movement, Landon reached out to steady her, his hand on her arm sending a jolt of electricity through them both. Their eyes locked and time stood still, the air thick with desire and a connection that ran soul deep.

"Easy there," he said, his words barely above a whisper, but laden with a promise of protection—and something far more primal.

"Sorry, just a little lightheaded." She offered a weak smile, trying to mask the confusion that flickered across her face.

"Let's get you inside," Landon insisted, his touch lingering longer than necessary.

Together, they walked toward the house. In the silence between them, the call of the wild beckoned, a siren song that would soon change everything.

Landon's hands were gentle as he guided Dakota up the stairs of the house, his senses acutely aware of her every breath and the heat radiating from her skin. The air was cooler here, a stark contrast to the feverish warmth that seemed to cling to her. He could hear the distant call of night creatures, a haunting chorus to the turmoil churning within him.

The door creaked softly as they entered her bedroom, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight that slipped through the curtains. He undressed her with the utmost care, helping her into the bed and tucking the sheets around her still form. Her breathing eased into a steady rhythm, yet there was an unsettling quiet about her that pricked at his instincts.

As he turned to leave, the vast silence of the room weighed heavily against his resolve. His secret loomed between them like a specter, its presence growing more oppressive with each heartbeat. The knowledge of what he was—and what she might be—clawed at him, demanding to be acknowledged.

"Stay," Dakota's voice was husky, a whisper woven with vulnerability that stopped him in his tracks.

Her hand reached out, fingers brushing against his own with an intimacy that sent a shiver down his spine. The delicate touch echoed louder than any spoken plea; it was a tether binding him to her.

"All right," Landon murmured, the word barely escaping his lips as he stripped down to his briefs and settled beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight.

She shifted slightly, her breath warm against his neck, stirring the wildness within him. His wolf stirred, a primal entity recognizing the mate that lay so tantalizingly close. Yet, it was not just the beast inside him that yearned for closeness—it was the man, the protector, the lover who craved to claim her as his own.

"Tomorrow," he vowed silently, his voice a rough whisper meant only for the shadows and her sleeping form. "I'll tell you everything."

With that solemn promise hanging in the air, sleep eventually claimed him, wrapping them both in a cocoon of shared warmth. Dreams flickered behind closed eyelids—dreams of moonlit fur and the taste of destiny on his tongue. Tomorrow, their worlds would collide in truth, but for now, they slumbered, two halves of a whole yet to be united.

Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow on Dakota's silhouette as Landon stirred from his restless slumber. The night had been a dance of shadows and murmured vows, but the morning brought with it an air of inevitability that hung over him like a shroud. With eyes still heavy with secrets, he watched her move gracefully on the balcony, her figure bathed in the early dawn light.

The scent of fresh coffee wafted into the room, mingled with the aroma of toasted bread and something sweet—perhaps jam or honey. His heightened senses registered every nuance, every detail, sharpening his awareness of her presence. He rose from the bed, muscles flexing beneath his skin, every fiber of his being acutely conscious of the gravity of what lay ahead.

Pulling on jeans and buckling his belt, he stepped onto the balcony. Dakota turned toward him, her eyes reflecting the sapphire sky above them, a silent greeting in their depths. The simple breakfast she'd prepared was spread out on the table, an offering of normalcy in a world that was anything but ordinary. They ate in companionable silence, a smoldering tension simmering just beneath the surface, thick as the steam rising from their mugs.

It was then that Landon noticed the book, its aged leather cover cracked with time, resting between them. It was a relic from a bygone era, holding within its pages truths that could alter everything. He reached out, fingers brushing against the worn binding, feeling the pulse of ancient magic thrumming through the tome.

"The drawings, calligraphy, and binding are beautiful. It’s a pity I can’t read the language." Dakota said, her tone laced with curiosity and an edge of something deeper.

"It is," Landon replied, his voice husky with emotion. "I do understand the language. Would you like to hear the story it tells?"

Dakota nodded, her gaze locked onto his, the question in her eyes clear: What secrets do you hold?

He cleared his throat, the words of the book rising to his lips, flowing from him as though they were a part of his very soul. He recited the tale with reverence, each syllable imbued with the weight of centuries. The story unfolded, a narrative of beings intertwined with the fabric of nature itself, and as he spoke, he couldn't help but wonder if she heard the echo of her own essence within the fable.

The air around them seemed to thicken with every word, charged with an electric current that pulsed in rhythm with the beating of their hearts. Dakota listened, rapt, her breath catching at the cadence of his voice. There was a hunger in her eyes, a thirst for knowledge that went beyond mere fascination.

Landon felt the pull of the bond between them intensify, a visceral connection that threatened to overwhelm his senses. The wolf within stirred, recognizing the significance of this moment—the precipice upon which they stood, where truth and myth blurred into one.

As he spoke the final words of the passage, a profound silence enveloped them—a hush filled with anticipation and the tacit understanding of the inevitable revelation that loomed ever closer. Dakota's hand reached out, fingers grazing the ancient pages as if to touch the history etched upon them.

"What does it mean? Is this your story? My story?" she whispered, her voice a blend of wonder and apprehension.

Landon met her gaze, knowing that the time had come to peel back the veil of secrecy, to bare his soul to the woman who held his fate in her hands. The next words he spoke would change everything.

Amid the soft whisper of early morning winds and the distant call of a lone coyote, Landon's voice wove the ancient tale into the fabric of the present. The words of the book, indecipherable to Dakota but as familiar to him as his own heartbeat, spilled forth with reverence. "At the dawn of time," he murmured, "there existed three distinct species that began to evolve: one wolf, pure and untamed; one human, intelligent and adaptive; and one a hybrid between the two, a bridge binding their worlds."

Dakota repeated a single word, her voice soft as if tasting it for the first time. "Wolf." Her eyes, reflecting the early light, narrowed with the dawn of understanding. The corners of her mouth quivered not quite forming a smile nor a frown.

The pages turned beneath Landon's fingers as if they were leaves caught in a gentle breeze. His senses, heightened by the presence of his mate, picked up the subtle shift in her scent—a mixture of curiosity and a hint of fear. It was a fragrance that tugged at the most primitive part of him, urging him to close the distance, to comfort, to calm, to claim.

He finished reading, his voice trailing off into the silence that wrapped around them like a cloak. "My grandfather," Dakota began, her words slicing through the tension, "he used to tell me stories. Legends of creatures that walk the line between man and beast." Her lips parted slightly as she pieced together memories with the narrative laid bare before her. "Do you think... do you think he meant for me to find these wolf-shifters? Do you think they’re real, Landon? Or just another fairytale?"

Landon’s heart thundered against his ribs. He could almost feel the pull of the earth beneath them, the age-old call of his kind—wild and free. Yet there he sat, bound by an unyielding force far stronger than any instinctual drive. Dakota's question hung between them, a key waiting to unlock a door to a world she had yet to see in its full, raw form.

"Everything has a seed of truth," he said, his voice low. "Even the tales we dismiss as children’s bedtime stories." He reached across the table, his fingertips grazing hers, a spark of connection igniting in the small touch. There was no going back now. The story had been set in motion, and he, a character within it, could only play his part.

"Your grandfather," he continued, his throat tightening around the words, "he may have known more than he felt he could tell you." Landon paused, watching the play of emotions over Dakota's striking features, knowing that their lives were entwined in ways she was only beginning to comprehend.

Landon's pulse quickened as he met Dakota's questioning gaze, her eyes searching his for the truth that lingered just beneath the surface. The air between them was thick with unvoiced understanding, an electric current of anticipation that wrapped around every fiber of his being and tugged insistently.

"Come," he said softly, standing up from the table. His voice held the rasp of untamed nature, a whisper of the wind that often howled through the canyon. He extended his hand to her, fingers trembling slightly—not from fear but from the sheer force of what he was about to reveal.

Dakota hesitated only for a fraction of a second before placing her hand in his, the trust in her eyes anchoring him. He led her inside, away from the burgeoning light of dawn that kissed the horizon with hues of fiery orange and deep purple. The shadows of the room welcomed them back, offering a semblance of privacy for the truth he was about to reveal.

He released her hand and began to undress, each movement deliberate and unhurried. His clothes fell to the floor in a silent confession, baring his skin to her curious gaze. Muscles honed by hard work and moonlit runs flexed under the scrutiny, a testament to the fierce beast that was a part of him.

The room seemed to hold its breath, time suspended in the space where humanity and legend intertwined. Dakota's breath hitched audibly, the sound striking a chord within Landon that reverberated down to his very soul. This was more than exposure; it was an unveiling of his truest self.

"Watch," he murmured, stepping out of the last piece of clothing. The air caressed his bare skin, cool and expectant. He closed his eyes, surrendering to the ancient rhythm that thrummed in his blood, the call of his lineage that could no longer be denied.

He called forth his wolf, felt his entire being tingle as the swirling mist of thunder, color and lightning rose from the floor to encapsulate him. Transformation claimed him, a melding of man and beast that was not at all painful, but rather exultant. Bones shifted, sinews twisted and reformed, and his consciousness stretched to accommodate the dual essence of his being. Fur covered his skin like a living shadow, dark and lustrous, while his senses sharpened to a razor's edge.

When he opened his eyes again, the mist had dissipated, and they gleamed with lupine intensity. Landon, now fully shifted, stood before Dakota as a towering wolf, his coat a blend of sable and silver that reflected the room's scant light. He waited, every fiber of his being attuned to her reaction. Fear, wonder, rejection—all possibilities that hung in the charged silence.

Dakota's gaze never wavered, and as she stepped forward, her hand outstretched with a courage that made his chest swell with pride, he knew. In her acceptance lay the beginning of their entwined destinies, a connection that transcended the divide between worlds. She reached out and touched the coarse fur of his neck, a tentative gesture that spoke volumes. Her touch was warm, alive with the same electricity that had sparked between them since their paths first crossed.

In the stillness of the room, under the unyielding gaze of fate, Landon Savage stood exposed—not just in form, but in the raw truth of who he was. As Dakota met his dark eyes, something deeper sparked between them—a shared reckoning, a silent promise. He didn’t find just an answer—he found the promise of their beginning, a bond that could either save them or destroy everything they’d ever known.