Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

R owan

My fingers gently ran across the welts covering Kendra’s bare bottom and thighs. They were hot and swollen and red, and I had to admit there was a certain beauty to them.

A deep, overwhelming possessiveness welled up within me.

She’d run away and put herself in danger.

And I’d punished her for it.

I’d spanked her before, but never truly punished her, and I had a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time I gave my naughty mate what she truly needed.

Gently, I pulled up her jeans and buttoned them before I hefted her up into my arms and took a deep breath.

We needed to get out of here. We couldn’t stay in one place for too long.

I carried her through the woods as she slept. I walked for miles, the weight of her in my arms barely registering as I pushed through the thick underbrush, following the distant sound of rushing water.

The woods were quiet, the only sound the crunch of leaves beneath my boots and the steady beat of Kendra’s soft breath against my chest. I wasn’t sure how far I’d gone, but I refused to stop until I knew she’d be safe.

The sky had darkened, a heavy gray settling in as dusk fell, and just when I thought I’d need to stop and make camp for the night, I stumbled upon a small cabin, tucked away in the shadow of towering pines, nestled near a swiftly flowing river. It was hidden so well that I almost missed it entirely, its weathered walls blending into the forest.

I reached the door, pushing it open with my shoulder, grateful when it creaked open without resistance. The cabin was empty, long abandoned by whoever had built it, but it was clean enough. A single bed lay against the far wall, draped in a faded quilt, and a small hearth sat cold and unused near the back corner. It wasn’t much, but it would do.

I laid Kendra down gently on the bed, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. She looked so peaceful now, her brow no longer furrowed with worry or fear, and I felt something tighten in my chest as I watched her.

I needed to take care of her.

I moved quickly, lighting a fire in the hearth and scanning the cabin for anything useful. I dragged a chair over near the bed, settling myself there as I watched her, waiting for any sign that she’d wake. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, my hands running over my face as I tried to push away the memories of the last few days.

I hadn’t meant for this to happen—for Kendra to put herself in danger, to nearly be taken back to the wolves. I should have kept her closer, should have known she’d be driven to try to save her friends on her own. She was too strong-willed, too brave for her own good.

But it was one of the things I loved about her.

She stirred then, a small sigh escaping her lips, and I sat up straighter, my eyes fixed on her. She blinked, slowly at first, her gaze unfocused, and I could see the moment she remembered where she was, the tension flooding back into her body as she realized she wasn’t alone.

“I—” she started, her voice raspy, but I shook my head, stopping her before she could finish.

“Don’t,” I said, my hand brushing her arm. “You don’t need to explain anything. Just rest.”

She hesitated, her eyes searching my face, and I knew what she was thinking—that one of us, or worse, both of us could have been hurt, that she hadn’t trusted me enough to come to me before running off on her own. But none of that mattered now. She was here, with me, and she was safe.

I stood then, moving over to the hearth where the fire had finally caught, its warmth filling the small cabin.

“You need food,” I said, more to myself than her, as I scanned the cabin for anything I could use to cook. There wasn’t much, but I knew the forest held plenty. “There’s a river nearby. I’ll get us something to eat.”

I turned toward the door, but her voice stopped me, quiet and unsure. “Rowan…”

I glanced back at her, my hand resting on the doorframe, waiting.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes soft, filled with something I couldn’t quite name. “For coming for me.”

“I’ll always come for you, Kendra,” I said, my voice low, rough with truth. “Always.”

And then I stepped out into the fading light, the river rushing nearby. I was determined to catch us something to eat. Without another thought, I stripped off my clothes, leaving them folded by the cabin door. The shift came easy, as it always did—a rush of heat through my veins, bones cracking, lengthening, fur sprouting along my skin.

It was over in seconds, and when I stood again, I was on four legs, my senses keener, more focused. The world was clearer in this form—colors more vivid, sounds more distinct. I could hear the rustle of leaves, the scampering of small creatures in the underbrush, the distant calls of birds as they settled for the night. I could hear everything.

I took a deep breath, my heightened sense of smell catching the scent of prey not too far off—a deer, maybe, or a rabbit. I could taste the metallic tang of blood already, my instincts guiding me as I loped into the woods, my paws silent on the forest floor. The wind shifted, bringing the scent of my target closer.

A rabbit.

Perfect. It was small, but enough to tide us over for the night.

I slowed my pace, my body lowering to the ground as I stalked through the underbrush, eyes locked onto the small creature ahead. It was nibbling on some grass near the riverbank, oblivious to the danger that lurked in the shadows. I waited, each second feeling like an eternity, until the moment was right.

Then, with a burst of speed, I sprang forward, my paws silent, my jaws snapping around the rabbit’s neck before it even had time to react. The kill was clean, quick, and I held the warm body in my mouth. I felt the satisfaction of the hunt settle into my bones, but there was no time to dwell on it.

Kendra needed me.

I padded back through the forest, the rabbit dangling from my jaws, and as the cabin came into view, I shifted again, the change happening just as smoothly as before. My body returned to its human form, the familiar pull of muscles and cracking of bones leaving me feeling lighter, more in control. I got dressed, tucked the rabbit under one arm and headed inside.

Kendra was sitting up in bed when I returned, her eyes flicking to me as I stepped through the door. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room, and she watched me as I stoked the flames higher, laying the rabbit beside the fire.

I worked quickly, skinning the rabbit with the precision that came from years of survival, from having to fend for myself after the collapse. It was a routine I’d fallen into so many times that I didn’t even need to think about it. My hands moved automatically, slicing the meat and preparing it to roast over the fire.

As the rabbit cooked, filling the cabin with the rich, smoky scent of roasting meat, my mind drifted—back to a time I’d tried to forget, a time that still haunted me whenever I closed my eyes.

It was the early days of the Collapse, before we understood the full scope of what was happening and before we realized how quickly everything would unravel. Back then, I still had hope. I still believed we could hold on to what was left of our world.

I still had her—my Eva.

We were engaged, planning a future together in a world that was crumbling beneath our feet, but we were determined. I’d promised her that we’d survive this, that I’d protect her. But promises meant nothing when the world decided to tear itself apart.

The wolves came out of nowhere that night. They were faster, stronger, more brutal than anything we’d ever faced. I’d fought one off, barely managing to shift in time, but there were too many of them. I remember the way Eva screamed, the way she called out my name as they dragged her away into the woods. I remember the sound of her voice cutting off and the eerie silence that followed.

I ran after them, shifting mid-stride, my heart pounding, fear coursing through my veins. But I was too late. By the time I found her, she was gone. The wolf that had killed her looked up at me, blood staining its muzzle, and I tore it apart without hesitation, rage blinding me. But it didn’t matter. Nothing had mattered after that.

Not until Kendra.

I blinked, the memories fading as I came back to the present, the smell of the cooking rabbit filling my nose. I clenched my fists, trying to push the images of Eva’s lifeless body from my mind. That had been a different time. A different life. Kendra was here now. She was alive, and I would not fail her the way I’d failed Eva. I couldn’t.

I glanced over at Kendra, who was still watching me with those bright, intelligent eyes, and I knew she could sense something was wrong. I forced a smile, though it felt hollow.

“The food’s almost ready,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.

Kendra nodded, her brow furrowed slightly as if she wanted to ask what I was thinking, but she stayed quiet. She trusted me, even now, after everything that had happened.

I wouldn’t let her down.

Not again.

Not ever .

I watched the rabbit roast over the fire, the smell filling the small cabin with warmth and comfort. Kendra was quiet, but her gaze never left me, and I could feel her eyes on me as I turned the meat, making sure it cooked evenly. It had been a long day—too long—and the exhaustion was finally catching up to both of us.

When the meat was ready, I tore off pieces, placing them on two small plates I found tucked inside one of the cabin’s cabinets. They were old, chipped, but serviceable, and that was all we needed. I handed her a plate and sat down beside her on the bed, close enough that our knees touched.

“Here,” I said softly, offering her a piece of rabbit. “It’s not much, but it’ll fill us up.”

Kendra accepted it with a small smile, taking a bite. “It’s perfect,” she said between mouthfuls, and for a moment, I let myself relax, watching her as she ate. The simple act of sharing a meal together felt… normal, in a way that so little did these days.

“So,” she said after a while, her voice light, though I could sense the underlying curiosity. “How long do you think this place has been abandoned?”

I glanced around the cabin, noting the layers of dust that had settled in the corners, the cobwebs strung across the beams.

“A long time, I’d say. Whoever lived here must have left before the worst of the Collapse. Maybe even before the wolves took over.”

Kendra nodded, her fingers picking at the food on her plate. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Being in a place that was someone’s home once. Wondering what their life was like, and if they survived all of this.”

I looked at her, my heart softening at the thoughtful expression on her face. She had that way about her—able to see the humanity in things, even when the world had stripped so much of it away. It was refreshing in a way I didn’t know I needed.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “It makes you think.”

We ate in companionable silence for a few more moments, and when we’d finished, I reached out and took her empty plate, setting it aside with mine near the fire.

Kendra shifted beside me, her body brushing against mine, and I turned to find her looking up at me with a slightly playful expression written all over her face.

“You know,” she said, her voice teasing as she slid closer, “my bottom’s still a little sore from earlier.”

I felt the corner of my mouth twitch, and before I could stop myself, I let out a low growl, my hand sliding to her waist as I pulled her onto my lap, her body fitting against mine perfectly.

“You deserved it,” I rumbled, my fingers brushing lightly over her hips. “You ran off. What did you expect?”

“I know,” she whispered, and there was a softness in her voice now, an understanding. “I shouldn’t have run. I’m sorry.”

I looked down at her, my hand resting on her back, and I felt that fierce protectiveness flare up inside me again. She was strong, brave, but she was also mine. And I’d do whatever it took to keep her safe.

“Just don’t do it again,” I murmured, my voice softer now, but still firm. “Next time, you tell me. We’ll face it together.”

She tilted her head up, her lips brushing my jaw, and I could feel the warmth of her breath on my skin. “I will,” she promised, her eyes locking with mine.

I couldn’t help myself then. I leaned down, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was slow, deliberate. Her lips were soft, warm, and she melted into me, her arms sliding around my neck as I deepened the kiss, my hand tightening on her waist. There was nothing rushed about it—just the two of us, wrapped up in the moment, in the warmth of each other.

When we finally pulled apart, her eyes were half-lidded, and I could see the exhaustion settling into her features. She let out a small yawn, her body relaxing against mine, and I chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Tired?” I asked.

She nodded, her eyelids drooping, and I felt a surge of tenderness wash over me.

“Come on, then,” I murmured, shifting her in my arms as I stood, carrying her the short distance to the bed.

I tucked her in, pulling the old quilt up around her shoulders, and she snuggled into the pillow, her eyes already drifting closed. I brushed my hand over her hair, smoothing it back, and for a moment, I just stood there, watching her, the steady rise and fall of her chest, the peaceful expression on her face.

“Goodnight, Kendra,” I whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

She murmured something in response, her voice thick with sleep, and I smiled.

I threw some water on the fire, the room dimming as the flames burned lower, and I settled myself in the chair by her bedside. I watched her for a long time, her soft breathing the only sound in the cabin, the flickering fire casting shadows on the walls.

Slowly, I stood, careful not to make a sound as I moved to the bed. Kendra lay curled up beneath the quilt, her hair spilling over the pillow in dark waves, her face soft and peaceful. The sight of her like this—calm, unburdened by fear or danger—made something inside me tighten.

I didn’t want to be apart from her, not tonight, not after everything that had happened today.

Gently, I lifted the edge of the quilt and slid in beside her, the old bed creaking softly under my weight. The mattress was small, forcing me to press close to her, but I didn’t mind.

I didn’t want space between us.

As I settled in, I slid an arm around her waist, pulling her body against mine. She fit so perfectly, her back flush against my chest, like she’d always belonged there. My hand rested on her hip, and I could feel the soft rhythm of her breathing through the thin fabric of her shirt, steady and comforting.

For a moment, I just lay there, holding her, feeling the warmth of her body seep into mine. The scent of her hair, that familiar mix of something sweet and earthy, filled my senses, and I buried my face in the soft strands, inhaling deeply. It was intoxicating—the scent of her, the feel of her—and I could feel my body relax completely for the first time in days.

She smelled like the forest, like wildflowers, like home .

I pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, my hand tightening slightly around her waist as I held her closer, pulling her deeper into me. She stirred, shifting in her sleep, and I felt her settle more comfortably against me. I didn’t want to let go. I never wanted to let go.

How did I get so lucky? The thought drifted through my mind as I ran my fingers lightly over her side, feeling the softness of her skin beneath the fabric. How had I, of all people, managed to find someone like her? Someone who trusted me, who looked at me like I was something more than just the monster I’d become? She had no idea how much I’d fallen for her—how deeply she’d gotten under my skin.

How much I already loved her.

I closed my eyes, resting my chin against the top of her head, breathing in her scent again. My heart ached with how much I wanted to protect her, to keep her here, safe in my arms, away from the chaos of the world. I’d lost so much—Eva, my old life, the world as it once was—but Kendra was something I couldn’t bear to lose.

The cabin was quiet now, save for the crackling of the fire and the soft sound of her breathing, and I let myself relax fully, the tension finally draining from my muscles.

She was here. With me. That was all that mattered.

As I held her, I realized how completely she had taken over every part of me—mind, body, and soul. She was everything. And as I pressed another soft kiss to her hair, I silently vowed that I would never let anything or anyone take her from me.

“I love you,” I whispered, though I knew she couldn’t hear me, lost in sleep as she was. But it didn’t matter. The words were as much for me as they were for her.

With Kendra in my arms, her warmth against me, I finally let myself drift off to sleep, knowing that as long as I had her, I would fight for her—for us—until my last breath.