Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

K endra

I woke to the sound of rushing water, a gentle roar that echoed through the trees, mingling with the crackling of a fire and the scent of something rich and savory cooking in the air.

My eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, I lay there, disoriented, staring up at a canopy of leaves that swayed gently in the breeze. I shifted, feeling the softness beneath me, and my fingers dug into a thick mattress of moss. It was cool and damp, cushioning my body in a way that felt almost luxurious compared to the hard, cold mattress back in the compound.

Slowly, I sat up, the remnants of sleep still clinging to my bones as I looked around, trying to piece together where we were. I saw that we were in a small clearing, surrounded by tall pines that stretched toward the sky, their branches swaying gently in the wind. To my left, I could see a waterfall, cascading over a rocky ledge and tumbling into a pool of crystal-clear water that steamed faintly in the morning light.

A hot spring!

I’d never seen one before.

The air smelled fresh, clean, and for the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe.

Rowan sat a few feet away, crouched over a small fire, turning a piece of meat skewered on a stick. His hair was still damp, droplets clinging to the ends and catching the light, and his shirt hung open, revealing the scars that cut across his chest, pale lines against tanned skin. He looked up as I shifted, his eyes meeting mine, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow, the sound of the waterfall fading to a distant murmur.

“You’re awake,” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I was starting to think you’d sleep the whole day away.”

I pushed myself up, brushing bits of moss from my clothes.

“Where are we?” I asked, my voice still thick with sleep.

“About fifteen miles from the city,” he replied, turning the stick over the fire again, the venison sizzling in the heat. “Deep enough in the forest that the wolves won’t track us here. At least not for a while.”

I nodded, the reality of it settling over me like a blanket. “How long was I out?”

“Almost a day,” he said, glancing back at the meat, testing it with his finger. “You needed the rest. Your body’s been through a lot.”

I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the exhaustion etched into his features, the dark circles under his eyes, the lines of tension that hadn’t quite faded.

“And what about you?” I asked, my voice softer now. “Have you rested at all?”

He smirked, shaking his head. “I don’t need as much sleep as you do.” There was a flicker of something in his eyes then, something almost playful, and it sent a strange warmth spreading through my chest. “Besides, I had to catch us breakfast.”

“Venison?” I asked, wrinkling my nose.

He chuckled, tearing a small piece of meat off the skewer, and holding it out to me.

“You’ll eat it,” he said, “or you’ll go hungry. Your choice.”

I took it, the warmth of his fingers brushing against mine for just a second before he pulled away, and I brought the meat to my mouth, chewing slowly. It was surprisingly tender, the flavor rich and smoky, and I realized just how hungry I was. I hadn’t eaten properly in days, and the taste of something real, and more than anything, something warm , was almost overwhelming.

“You hunted this?” I asked between bites.

He nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I’ve been hunting in these woods for a long time.”

I frowned, tilting my head. “How long is a long time?”

He hesitated, as if weighing how much to reveal, and then sighed.

“Over two hundred years,” he said quietly, the words dropping between us like stones in a pool of water.

I stared at him, my mind struggling to process what he’d just said. “Two hundred years? You… you’re serious?”

“As serious as the day I took my first breath,” he replied, meeting my gaze without a trace of humor.

“That would mean you’re over two hundred years old,” I whispered, trying to wrap my mind around how that could be possible and he cleared his throat as he nodded slowly.

“I was one of the first wolves—the virus hit me before anyone knew what it was. We didn’t understand it then, didn’t know it would change us, that it would twist us into something that couldn’t die in the way humans do. It gave me strength, speed, and healing—but it also froze me in time. I stopped aging, or at least, I age very slowly.”

“Two hundred years…” I repeated, still trying to really take this information in. “What was it like back then? Before all of this?”

He leaned back, his eyes drifting to the fire as if searching for something in the flickering flames. “I came from a time before the Collapse, a time before everything fell apart. The world was… different. Bigger, in a way. More complicated, but also so full of life.” He paused, as if trying to find the right words. “We had cities, massive structures that reached for the sky. Millions of people packed into them, living their lives, moving so quickly that they barely stopped to breathe. And then, almost overnight, it all started to unravel.”

“The Collapse,” I whispered, the word heavy on my tongue.

He nodded. “When the virus spread, no one took it seriously at first. It was just another illness, something people thought they could beat with medicine and technology. But it changed. It mutated. People started to shift, to transform into wolves like me—but they weren’t like me. They were feral, uncontrolled. They turned on their families, their friends, tore through the cities like a wildfire. It didn’t matter if you were rich, powerful, or lived in the slums. The virus didn’t discriminate. It devoured everyone.”

I swallowed hard, trying to picture it. “What about the government? Didn’t they try to do something?”

“Oh, they tried,” Rowan said with a bitter chuckle. “Martial law, quarantines, camps for those who were infected. But they didn’t understand what they were up against. The virus wasn’t just a disease—it was a force of nature, something that couldn’t be contained by walls or soldiers. As more people turned, chaos erupted. There were riots, wars over food and water, entire cities burned to the ground. The wolves took control because there was no one left strong enough to stop them. And by the time anyone realized that the virus wasn’t going to disappear, it was already too late.”

“And you…?” I hesitated, trying to form the question that burned on my tongue. “What did you do during all of that?”

Rowan’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, I saw something flicker there, something haunted. “I fought. I tried to protect the people I cared about. But when the world is collapsing around you, when everyone you love is either dead or turned into a monster, you start to wonder what the point is. So, I did the only thing I knew how to do—I survived.”

He fell silent, and I watched him, taking in the hard lines of his jaw, the way the firelight danced in his eyes, turning them molten. He’d seen so much, lived through so much history, and yet here he was, sitting beside me in a world that had forgotten what it meant to be whole.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly.

He shrugged, the movement small, but there was a residual tightness in his shoulders.

“I learned a long time ago that loss is just part of life. But sometimes…” He glanced at me, and for the briefest moment, his expression softened, his eyes warming with something I couldn’t quite name. “Sometimes you find something worth holding onto.”

We sat there for a while, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the distant rush of the waterfall. I took another bite of the venison, savoring the warmth that spread through my body.

“What did you mean,” I began again, my voice barely above a whisper, “when you called me your mate?”

Rowan’s eyes flickered again, and for a moment, I saw something fierce flare in their depths, something that sent a shiver racing down my spine. He leaned closer, the muscles in his arms flexing as he rested his elbows on his knees, and I could feel the heat radiating from him, a warmth that seemed to seep into the very air between us.

“It means you’re mine,” he said simply, his voice rough, tinged with that growl that I’d come to associate with him. “I’ve claimed you, Kendra. You belong to me now.”

His words sent a jolt through me, a mix of fear and something else—something darker, something that curled low in my stomach and made my pulse quicken. I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing, trying to find my voice.

“You don’t even know me,” I protested, but my words sounded weak, even to my own ears.

“I know enough,” he said, and there was no hesitation, no uncertainty. “You’re strong, even when you’re afraid. You didn’t break, even when they tried to crush your spirit. I saw something in you that I’ve never seen in anyone else. And I decided I wanted it.”

His gaze locked onto mine, unyielding, and I felt the weight of his words, the intensity of his desire, wrap around me like chains.

“You make it sound like I’m some prize you’ve taken,” I whispered, my voice trembling, and I hated how much I wanted him to deny it, to tell me I was wrong.

But he didn’t.

“You are,” he said, and his tone was possessive, unapologetic. “I’m an alpha. I take what I want. And I wanted you.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I felt my breath catch in my throat, my skin prickling with the heat of his gaze.

“And what if I don’t want to be taken?” I challenged, though my voice shook, betraying the lie in my words.

He leaned in closer, so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin, could see the way his eyes darkened, pupils dilating as they roamed over me.

I hated how I liked that he looked at me like that.

“You’re free to leave if you want,” he murmured, and I could feel the rumble of his voice in my chest, vibrating through me. “But know this—I’ll always come for you. I’ll always find you. Because you’re mine now, Kendra, whether you want to be or not. That’s what the mate bond means. My mark will always bring me to you.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt something inside me twist, something that made my heart pound and my blood race.

“That’s not fair,” I breathed, my voice barely more than a whisper, but he just smiled, a slow, dangerous curve of his lips that made my stomach and my heart flutter.

“I’m not interested in being fair,” he said, his eyes locked onto mine, and there was a raw, unyielding honesty in his gaze that made it impossible to look away. “I’m interested in you. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you.”

The fire crackled between us, the heat pulsing against my skin, and I felt something shift inside me, as if his words had reached into the deepest parts of me and pulled something to the surface that I hadn’t even realized was there.

And as I stared into his eyes, I realized that maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

That maybe, somewhere deep in my soul, I wanted him too.

I looked away, trying to ignore the way his gaze made my skin tingle, trying to remind myself that I had no reason to trust him—no reason to want him. But I could feel the heat of his presence, the way it seemed to wrap around me, pulling me closer, and it was becoming harder to keep my distance.

“You don’t even know who I am,” I murmured, forcing myself to look him in the eye, even though it felt like standing in the path of a raging wildfire.

“Then tell me,” he said, his voice softer now, gentler, and that vulnerability, that patience, made my heart ache. “Tell me where you came from.”

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts.

“I grew up in one of the smaller sectors,” I began, my voice low, shaky. “It wasn’t a great place—more like a slum, really. My parents were… they weren’t kind people. My father worked in one of the underground factories, and my mother… she was never around much. I practically raised myself.” I glanced at Rowan, expecting judgment, pity, but all I saw in his eyes was quiet understanding and a comfortable warmth that made it easier to keep talking.

“There were gangs, criminals, and all sorts of things lurking in the shadows,” I continued, wrapping my arms around myself as if the memory still had the power to reach out and grab me. “But I managed to stay out of trouble. I’d sneak into the market and trade what little we had, just to make it through the week. I had a couple of friends—other girls around my age—and we’d look out for each other. We always talked about running away, finding somewhere better.” I paused, a sad smile tugging at my lips. “But then my birthday came, and I was taken. Just like all the others.”

Rowan’s eyes darkened, and I saw a flicker of anger flash across his face, his jaw tightening.

“I’m sorry, Kendra,” he said quietly, and I could feel the rage simmering beneath his words, the way his hands clenched into fists as if he could somehow fight the past itself.

As if he could fight it for me.

I shook my head, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I don’t need your pity,” I whispered, more fiercely than I’d intended. “I’ve survived this long. I’m not broken.”

His eyes softened, and he reached out, cupping my chin, tilting my head up so I couldn’t look away.

“I know,” he murmured, and there was something in his voice, something raw and unfiltered, that made my heart skip a beat.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my breathing steady, but his touch, the warmth of his skin against mine, sent sparks racing down my spine.

“Why do you care?” I demanded, hating how my voice trembled, how I couldn’t keep the vulnerability out of it with every syllable that fell off my lips.

“Because I want you,” he said simply, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip, and I felt the heat flare up between us, scorching and undeniable. “Because you’re mine now. I don’t care what it takes—I’ll protect you.”

His words should have scared me. They should have sent me running, should have made me want to pull away. But instead, I felt something shift inside me, and I realized that I wanted him too—that I’d wanted him since the moment he’d stepped into that room and met my gaze for the very first time.

I leaned in closer, my breath catching as his scent wrapped around me, warm and heady, making my pulse quicken.

“You don’t even know if I want to be yours,” I whispered, although the words sounded weak, hollow, even to my own ears.

His eyes flashed, and his hand tightened on my chin, pulling me closer until our lips were almost touching. “Then tell me to stop,” he growled, his voice low and rough, “and I will.”

I opened my mouth to tell him to let me go, to stop this madness before it went any further, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I found myself leaning into him, my hands curling into the fabric of his shirt, holding him close, as if I were afraid that he might disappear if I let go.

“I can’t,” I breathed, my heart racing, and I hated how much I meant it, hated how much I needed him. “I can’t tell you to stop.”

Rowan’s eyes flicked to my lips, and before I could even process what was happening, he closed the gap between us, his mouth capturing mine in a kiss that sent a shockwave through my entire body.

It was gentle at first, tentative, but then his grip tightened around me, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss. A soft sound escaped my throat, and I melted into him, my hands fisting in his shirt as every thought, every fear, every doubt was swept away in the heat of that moment.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his forehead resting against mine, his breath mingling with mine in the cool air.

“My sweet mate,” he whispered, and I felt my heart stutter in my chest, my pulse pounding in my ears.

I couldn’t find the words to respond, couldn’t do anything but nod as he brushed his thumb over my cheek, his touch sending sparks skittering across my skin.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured, his eyes locked onto mine, and I could only nod again, unable to tear my gaze away from him.

He pulled me to my feet, his hands steady and sure as he guided me toward the hot spring, steam rising off the surface and curling into the cool morning air. I shivered as the chill bit into my skin, but Rowan was there, his hands on my arms, his touch grounding me, warming me.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “I’ve got you.”

Gently, he began to undress me, his fingers grazing my skin with a reverence that made my heart ache, that made me feel like I was the most precious thing in the world. He slowly pulled the dress over my head and let it drop to the ground. His gaze roved over my naked body for a moment before he stepped back to undress himself.

As Rowan pulled off his shirt, I couldn’t help but stare, my breath catching at the sight of him in the shadowy light of the sun through the trees. His chest was broad and powerful, the hard lines of muscle rippling beneath his skin with every movement. Scars crisscrossed his torso, faint silver lines that stood out against the tanned skin.

His shoulders were wide, his biceps thick and strong, and as he moved, I could see the muscles of his abdomen flex and tighten. There was something raw and primal about him, something that made my pulse quicken and my throat go dry. He was beautiful in a way that was dangerous, the kind of beauty that promised protection and destruction all at once, and I found myself wanting to trace every scar, every ridge, just to prove that he was real.

I swallowed hard when he unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down his legs, revealing thighs as thick as tree trunks and a hard cock that was already fully erect.

My pussy clenched tight.

When he finally lifted me into his arms, I didn’t feel afraid.

Rowan stepped into the water, cradling me against his chest as he waded deeper, the warmth enveloping us, easing the tension from my muscles, soothing the bruises and cuts that marred my skin. I clung to him, burying my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of him and letting it wrap around me like a blanket.

He carried me to a smooth, flat rock that jutted out from the water, and sat down, pulling me into his lap, his arms wrapping around me, holding me close. The water lapped at our bodies, warm and gentle, and I felt my eyes drift shut, the exhaustion, the fear, the pain all slipping away as I leaned into him.

Rowan’s hands moved over me, brushing my hair back from my face, tracing the curve of my shoulder, his touch soft and reverent, like he was afraid I might vanish if he let go.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead, then my cheek, his lips trailing down to the corner of my mouth.

I felt the heat bloom in my chest, spreading through me, and I tilted my head back, capturing his lips with mine. This time, the kiss was slower, deeper, as if we were pouring every fear and hope and longing into that single moment. I felt his fingers tangle in my hair, felt the warmth of his breath against my skin, and I knew—deep down, in the very core of my being—that I was his, just as much as he was mine.

“Let’s get you clean now,” he murmured, his voice soft, coaxing, and I felt myself nod, felt the last of my resistance melt away.

Gently, he reached for a small piece of cloth he’d brought to the water’s edge and dipped it into the hot spring, letting it soak before wringing it out. He started at my shoulders, wiping away the grime and dirt that had collected there, his movements slow and deliberate, almost reverent. I shivered at the sensation, my skin prickling with awareness as he worked, every stroke of the cloth leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

He moved down my arms, tracing the length of them with that same careful touch, and I watched as the dirt and blood were washed away, revealing the bruises and scrapes beneath.

“I’m sorry you were hurt,” he said quietly, his eyes flickering with something dark, something that made my chest tighten. “If I could’ve stopped them sooner, I would have.”

“You did more than anyone else ever would,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “You saved me.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the inside of my wrist, right over the pulse that fluttered beneath my skin.

“I’ll always save you,” he promised, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

He continued, moving the cloth over my collarbone, across the curve of my neck, and I tilted my head back, letting him take his time. His fingers brushed over my skin, and I felt my breath hitch, felt a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the hot spring.

He dipped the cloth into the water again, letting it soak before running it over my back, my shoulders, his touch unhurried, gentle, as if he were savoring every moment. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the sensation, letting myself believe that, for just this moment, I was safe.

I’d worry about the rest of my world another day.

Rowan shifted, guiding me to turn around so that I faced him, and I couldn’t help the way my breath caught as his eyes roamed over me, dark and intense, as if he were trying to memorize every detail. He lifted the cloth, moving it down my breasts, over my ribs, his movements slow and deliberate, and I felt my skin flush beneath his gaze.

When he finally finished and looked up at me with those dark, intense eyes, I felt a smile tug at the corners of my lips, felt the warmth that had been building inside me bloom into something I couldn’t quite name.

“Thank you,” I said softly, and he reached out, brushing a strand of wet hair from my face, his fingers lingering against my cheek.

“You never have to thank me,” he murmured, leaning in until his forehead rested against mine, his breath mingling with mine, warm and steady. “I’ll always take care of you, my sweet mate. Always.”