19. Atticus

19

ATTICUS

I moved through the forest like a phantom. For hours, I’d dogged Larkin as he interacted with the Crimson Fang. With the sun following its path to the horizon, the afternoon slowly faded away. I watched as he greeted members of the enemy gang like old friends, all within the boundaries of a territory that had been fiercely taken with bloodshed from the Silver Claw. Larkin clearly didn’t care who saw him. His unwavering confidence hinted at a belief in his own invincibility. Just what had instilled that in him?

They’d now moved away from Crimson Fang territories. Larkin and his followers trekked farther into unclaimed territory, and I trailed just behind them, unseen, shadows cloaking me. When the low murmur of voices broke the silence, my throat tightened. They were close, too close, and the clandestine nature of their gathering set every nerve in my body on edge.

I followed them into a clearing. Larkin stood there, his figure cloaked in false sincerity, while the leaders of the Crimson Fang huddled like jackals around a carcass. Their words slithered toward me.

“Control is paramount,” Larkin said with a lecherous smile. “Once we harness the artifact’s power, the forest’s magic will bend to our will.”

“Silver Claw has grown too complacent,” said the alpha of Crimson Fang, a scarred brute whose presence commanded dread. “They believe the magic of these lands is a guardian spirit. Fools. It is a weapon waiting to be wielded.”

My confusion spiraled into the abyss. I took a chance and pressed my consciousness against the walls of the alpha’s mind. There were no shields preventing me from entering, and I breached his mind with no effort at all. The thoughts I found there were tainted with greed and a gross misunderstanding of the sacred balance. They sought to manipulate what was never meant to be controlled, to turn the very essence of life into a tool for conquest.

“Food grows scarce. The territory must expand,” the alpha said. “We cannot allow the packs to starve.”

“Leave it to me,” Larkin said, his hand moving through the air as if to cut away any doubt. “Expansion will be the least of your worries once Silver Claw falls.”

Rage kindled in me, stoked by the betrayal unfolding before me. Larkin, who had always hovered around Aria, now revealed the true nature of his intentions. The thought of him near her, with his treachery masked behind a facade of devotion, made me want to burn the world down.

Silent as the night itself, I pressed against the rough bark of an oak. The forest froze with me, its magic pulsating through the underbrush and into my veins. It was in this charged stillness that I noticed a shadow where none should have been. My eyes locked with Ragnar, who stood motionless in the clearing.

His visage betrayed an inner turmoil. Those eyes, once so fierce, were now hollow with a regret that clawed at my own chest. In the quiver of his lip, the slight tremble of his hand, I understood. Ragnar had seen the treachery for himself. We shared a silent communion, a bond formed in the unspeakable truth.

“Everything is proceeding as planned,” Larkin said. “You need not worry about Ragnar. He’s entangled in my web, believing every lie spun with precision. Soon, Aria and I will be mated. She will watch as he crumbles, and the title of Silver Claw alpha will be in our grasp.”

The Crimson Fang alpha, a titan among wolves, regarded Larkin with skepticism. “Your confidence borders on arrogance,” he rumbled. “Do not mistake my trust for blindness. If you fail to deliver, it won’t be just the Silver Claw that suffers your folly.”

I could feel the tension between them. Larkin’s jaw tightened, his piercing eyes narrowing.

“Have I ever failed you before?” Larkin said, each word imbued with a venomous charm. “My plan is flawless. Trust in it, and in me.”

The back of my neck prickled as I realized the depth of Larkin’s deception. His confidence was not just for show; he believed in his victory as surely as he believed the moon would rise each night. Yet, beneath his bravado, there was a flicker of uncertainty. Apprehension that perhaps he had overplayed his hand.

I crouched, my skin tightening, bracing for conflict.

My gaze landed on a magic wielder, a rare warlock whose power was leashed by the iron cuffs around his wrists. He stood in a circle of ancient runes drawn into the dirt, a puppet compelled to dance to the Crimson Fang’s twisted tune. Part of an amulet lay at the core of the ritual, its aura sinister yet beguiling, calling out to the fragment I kept hidden away in my den.

It was almost shocking to see a warlock. They usually remained in hiding, far away from shifters and other magic users like them. Their power was intense and sought after. The warlock’s face was gaunt, eyes hollow from the drain of his magic. Each incantation pulled more vitality from him, leaving behind a shell of the man he once was.

“I’m sorry, sire,” he called. I’ve done everything in my power, but it remains unresponsive.”

His tormentor, the Crimson Fang alpha, paced, frustration deepening the furrows into his forehead as the spell failed to bend to his will.

“Work faster. You’d better find a way to make it become a regular conversationalist,” the alpha snarled. “You promised us power, not excuses.”

My wolf snarled, and my rage boiled. I felt immensely protective over the sacred balance they dared to violate. Under no circumstances could they unite the amulet’s halves. Their ignorance could tear apart the delicate equilibrium between man, wolf, and the wild magics that lay dormant beneath our feet.

I committed every detail of the ritual to memory—the pattern of the runes, the warlock’s weary chants, and the unmistakable shape of the amulet’s fragment. It was a jagged piece of history, one that matched the contours of my own relic—an echo of a past long buried but never forgotten.

They did not perceive the danger they toyed with, nor did they understand the lengths to which I would go to safeguard the legacy entrusted to me.

“Focus,” the alpha said.

The warlock, nearly broken, chanted with dwindling vigor, his words a toxic whisper against the sanctity of the wilds. I could almost hear and feel the roots of the trees around me recoiling, their whispers of alarm reaching out.

I stood motionless, my body taut with the urge to intervene, but I knew my position was precarious. To reveal myself now would be to invite chaos, but to wait… could I afford the delay? The amulet’s power was incomplete, fractured. Yet even in its divided state, it held enough malice to cripple the Silver Claw and every pack that lay unaware.

This wasn’t just about survival. This was about preserving a harmony that had existed long before our kind had ever laid claim to it. The Crimson Fang were blind to the devastation they were courting, ignorant to the destructive ripples their actions could send across realms unseen.

“Is it weakening?” one of the lieutenants asked.

“Patience,” the alpha said. “The forest will yield, and when it does, we’ll be ready to strike.”

Then it struck me. They needed the whole amulet, the missing piece that lay guarded in my den. It was a legacy of a world untamed, and they, with their greed-shrouded hearts, sought to bind it to their will.

As the warlock’s vigor waned and the alpha’s impatience grew, I withdrew from the scene with silent steps, a phantom amongst the trees. My mission was clear: retrieve the amulet, create the triskele, perform the ritual, and safeguard the balance. Protect all.

Doesn’t it all just sound so easy? I thought sarcastically.

The forest was a labyrinth of shadow, and I moved through it with the lethal grace that had become my signature. I retreated from the clandestine gathering, my mind ablaze with the information I had gleaned. The Crimson Fang were playing with forces they could not hope to control, and it fell on me to stop them.

I paused. Here, in the wilderness, I allowed myself a second of vulnerability. It wasn’t just the safety of the Silver Claw and the unclaimed territories that weighed heavily; it was the delicate balance of nature itself, the spiritual tapestry that was part of us all. I had its pulse in me, a rhythm as familiar as my own heartbeat. Every shifter had that pulse in them.

Once, I was the rogue who cared for nothing beyond the thrill of the hunt and being alone. But Aria—passionate, impulsive Aria—had awoken something in me, a capacity for a love that transcended the physical realm. Her spirit was intertwined with the very core of the forest, and by some twist of fate, I found that what she cherished, I cherished. My appreciation was no longer confined to those I held dear. It expanded, encompassing all life that thrived under the whispering leaves and starlit skies.

I moved quietly through the undergrowth. With each stealthy step, the distance between me and the clandestine meeting I’d just witnessed grew, but so did the urgency thrumming in my veins.

Abruptly, the crackle of underbrush shattered the peace. Crimson Fang scouts, wraiths honed by malice, spilled into the clearing. I’d gotten so wrapped up in my head that I’d let them find me.

“Thorne,” one said. “Thought you could skulk about unnoticed?”

I faced them, outnumbered yet unflinching. “Seems you’re mistaken,” I said coolly. “I have no interest in your petty squabbles.”

“Petty?” Another scout growled and stepped forward. “We know you heard everything, rogue. You won’t leave this forest alive.”

Their eyes glinted with a feral hunger, but mine were the eyes of a predator who had melded with the night itself. My shadow manipulation, a gift as innate as breathing, began to unfurl. Darkness pooled at my feet, tendrils of blackness creeping up my limbs.

“Try me,” I challenged.

A scout lunged, claws outstretched, aiming for my throat. I sidestepped the attack, the movement fluid, almost a lover’s dance. Shadows cloaked me, rendering me a phantom amongst men. I became the whisper of a thought, the trace of a doubt, unseen yet undeniably present.

Panic flitted across the scouts’ faces as they slashed at the air, finding nothing but void where I should have been. I had a surge of adrenaline, the rush of strategic thinking sharpening my senses. Here, in the darkness, I reigned, commanding the night to shield me as I plotted my escape route.

“Where are you?” one demanded.

“Everywhere,” I whispered.

In an instant, I seized the opportunity, darting past them like a gust of wind. They swung wildly, trying to catch what could not be caught, fight what could not be seen. Their frustration was music to my ears, and it raised my spirits.

As I slipped away, untouched and unseen, the very forest seemed to conspire with me, its magic humming along with mine. I left the Crimson Fang scouts to grapple with the shadows as I raced toward the safety of the night, toward Aria, and toward the destiny that awaited us both.

What I had learned about Larkin and the Crimson Fang’s nefarious plans played through my mind as I ran. As if to mirror the turmoil in me, the heavens unleashed their fury, the sudden deluge of rain melding with my sweat. Hailstones the size of marbles pelted down in a cold assault, stinging my exposed skin. The rumble from the sky seemed to emanate from the very belly of the beast we were up against.

“Fuck,” I grumbled.

Lightning forked across the sky, illuminating the pressing darkness. I pushed harder, muscles tensing and relaxing with practiced ease, though nothing could prepare me for the icy needles of hail that struck with ferocity.

This wasn’t just another confrontation, another enemy to best. It was a war for our very existence, and Aria was at the crux of it. She was the catalyst, the flame that could either illuminate our path or scorch us to oblivion.

I had to find her.

I ran into the storm, hoping against hope that she was safe, that she’d feel the pull of our bond and know I was coming for her. The thought of her being in harm’s way, vulnerable to the Crimson Fang’s twisted ambitions, clawed at my chest with agony.

And then, as if in response to my desperation, the forest gave way to a clearing, the violent weather creating a barrier between this hallowed ground and the rest of the world. Here, in the midst of nature’s wrath, was where I would find her. And when I did, I would shield her with my very being.

I’d made it to the manor’s grounds. There was no light on Aria’s balcony, no sign of her presence. Dread clenched my heart.

Slipping in through the servant’s entrance, I scanned the interior with predatory precision. The familiar sights and scents of the manor were there, but Aria’s was conspicuously absent. She had to have sensed the urgency of our predicament. Perhaps her intuition had guided her to my den.

Each drop of rain that kissed my skin said her name. I left the manor, some innate pull guiding me through the labyrinth of trees and underbrush. Fate was a fickle mistress, but tonight, she seemed to be in our corner.

And then, just as the storm reached its crescendo, the mysterious shack appeared. It emerged from the veil of the forest, as if my need to find Aria had summoned it. Relief, raw and overwhelming, surged through me. She had to be here. This place was our asylum from the chaos of our worlds.

“Please,” I said into the night, a prayer to whatever gods watched over star-crossed lovers and warriors alike. “Let her be here.”

I pushed the door of the shack open, and a gust of wind propelled me inside. My hair and clothes were drenched, and water pooled at my feet, but I didn’t care. The sight before me stole my breath.

Aria was safe. She stood there, deep in concentration, her luminescent eyes dancing with the light of discovery. Gloves protected her delicate fingers that moved with practiced grace as she mixed and measured, utterly absorbed in her alchemy. The soft glow of candlelight cast a halo over her, and the shadow of her chemist glasses only accentuated the sharp intelligence in her gaze.

“Atticus?” she said, not turning from her work but acknowledging my presence with that single utterance filled with warmth.

Drawn to her, I crossed the room silently, my boots squelching on the wooden floor. I pressed my body against hers, wrapping my arms around her waist without disturbing the intricate dance of her experiment. I bowed my head slightly, inhaling the scent of wildflowers and lightning that clung to her.

“Nearly there,” she said. “I’ve found the instructions for this brew, the ingredients we need. Even this old chemistry set seems to have been waiting just for us.”

Her words were full of hope, and that same hope cascaded through me, washing away some of the grime of fear and suspicion. I nuzzled her neck, her pulse thrumming under my lips. I relished the intimacy of the moment.

“Thank the spirits,” I said, my breath hot against her skin. “You’re here, you’re safe, and you’re brilliant.”

The storm raged on outside, but the warmth of Aria’s body seeped through my drenched clothes as I pressed against her.

“I followed Larkin,” I said. “And I wasn’t the only one observing him.”

Aria paused in her work, turning slightly to lock her gaze with mine. Her eyes, wide with curiosity, searched my face for answers.

“Your father was there, too, trailing Larkin.” I took a deep breath. “He must have heeded your warnings about Larkin. He saw everything.”

“He believes me?” She reached up and brushed my cheek, hope mingling with disbelief in her eyes.

“Yes.” I squeezed her side. “He must.”

I told her everything I’d seen and heard.

“The amulet...” she said, her jaw clenching. “We need the other part that the Crimson Fang has. It’s the only way to stop them. We’ll have to steal it.”

It would be terribly dangerous, but these were desperate times. We needed to do whatever we could to protect the forest.

“We will,” I said resolutely. “We now have an ally we never expected. Your father is with us.”

The simmering concoction Aria had crafted exuded a scent that was both unfamiliar and intoxicating, a subtle promise of the might it contained. She turned to me, and her lips found mine with desperate urgency.

“Atticus,” she said against my mouth, “we are on the precipice of destiny.”

As she drew back, she frowned, her eyes on something behind me. I followed her gaze. Among the clutter of bottles and books was an aged, yellowed page. What the heck? Where had it come from? She stepped past me and picked it up. Two words were inked on it. From the curves and strokes, I identified it to be Latin.

Aria spoke the words out loud in a melodic incantation that echoed through the shack.

“Revelare secretum.”

The ceiling gave way, and a ladder unfolded before us, revealing a hidden loft. Heaps of furs and blankets created a cozy and inviting atmosphere. The rain’s staccato rhythm on the tin roof composed a song of nature’s fury while candles flickered, transforming the space into a realm touched by otherworldly grace.

I climbed the ladder after Aria. The scent of rain mingled with her and surrounded me, a pull I couldn’t resist. Our eyes met in silent conversation. No words were needed when every breath we took was laced with urgency.

“Atticus,” she said, and that single utterance of my name was a spell, binding me completely to her will.

She took a step forward, raw energy radiating from her being. It was the call of the wild, the untamed spirit that recognized its counterpart in me—the rogue wolf who had found his match.

I watched, entranced. Her body language spoke of both fragility and strength. She was fire and ice, chaos and serenity. An enigma that fueled my desire.

“Come here,” I said, my voice low and husky, unable to mask the need that laced every syllable.

Aria closed the distance between us, the heat of her body seeping into mine.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” I murmured. “You undo me.”

My hand lifted of its own volition, trembling slightly as the tips of my fingers made contact with the softness of Aria’s cheek. She leaned into my caress, surrendering to the bond between us.

The wind howled outside, singing around the corners of the shack, a symphony to our growing passion. The elements had orchestrated this moment, conspired to bring us together. My breath hitched as her body pressed closer, seeking the heat of my own.

“Your touch... it’s everything,” Aria said breathlessly.

“Because you are everything,” I said. Her trust, the way she responded to my slightest touch, felt like a gift. An offering to the beast that prowled just beneath my skin.

Searing heat spread from my fingertips as they journeyed down the silken expanse of Aria’s body. Her soft curves yielded to my touch like petals to sunlight, and with every inch traversed, I pulled her closer, until no breath could pass between us unshared.

Her hands skated over the taut canvas of my chest. Each finger traced the hard muscles that tensed in anticipation of her next move. Her touch was alchemical, transmuting skin and sinew into something far more potent—a craving that would accept nothing less than total surrender.

“Gods,” I groaned, the sound torn from the depths of a hunger that had troubled me since the moment our paths first crossed. “You unravel me.”

And then her mouth was on mine, a collision of heat and need that obliterated any semblance of distance or decorum. Her lips were both soft and insistent, forging a connection that seared straight to my soul. Our tongues met in a dance as old as time, yet as fresh as the first drizzle of spring rain—intimate, intricate, and impassioned.

“More,” she gasped between kisses, her nails grazing the nape of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. “I want all of you.”

“Then take me,” I sighed against her lips, surrendering to the tempest of sensation only Aria could evoke within me. “Claim me as I’ve claimed you, in heart, body, and soul.”

Our passion was a living thing, an entity that bound us with ropes of ecstasy so tight, not even fate itself could sever them. We moved together, lost in the carnal rhythm of two beings meant to collide.

Her legs, lithe and powerful, coiled around my waist with an urgency that matched the pulse of our hearts. We were puzzle pieces now clicking into place, her body a perfect counterpoint to mine.

Her small gasp was lost in my mouth as I carried her toward the bed, each step punctuated by the pounding of the rain against the cabin walls. The storm outside raged. Lightning split the sky, illuminating her face—a visage of raw, unabashed passion.

“Take me in the storm. Claim me with the thunder as our witness,” she whispered against my lips, her breath hot and heavy.

Our lips fused, a lifeline in the maelstrom of our desire. I lowered Aria onto the soft expanse of the bed, our gaze holding, an unspoken vow hanging in the heated space between us. Her silver eyes shimmered with a feral glow, reflecting my own desire like a mirror of my soul. My hands, steady despite the inferno within, began the slow pilgrimage to undress her, each article of clothing peeled away and unveiling more of her exquisite form.

Her chest rose and fell with rapid anticipation, the candlelight casting dancing shadows over her flesh as fabric parted beneath my touch. The storm’s howl outside seemed distant compared to the thundering of my heart. Every inch of her skin that was revealed felt like a new world to discover, a sacred terrain that whispered promises of ecstasy.

Aria arched beneath me, her slender form curving. My fingers traced her waist and hips with a reverence that reverberated through my core. Every inch of her skin was a landscape I yearned to commit to memory, each curve an uncharted territory that beckoned me deeper into the realm of our shared ecstasy.

As I removed the final barrier between us—her lace underwear—anticipation built inside me. The soft fabric slipped away, unveiling the raw desire between us. I kissed and licked the roundness of her breasts, lavishing attention on each nipple, teasing them with my teeth and soothing them with my tongue, making her gasp and arching her back in response.

“You are mine, Aria,” I murmured. “Say it. Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” she said. “I belong to you.”

She gasped as I slid a finger inside her wet folds, feeling the warmth and slickness as my thumb gently circled her clit. I slowly slipped my finger from her heated core, making her whimper in frustration. Positioning myself between her thighs, with my thumb still circling her clit, I pushed my cock between her slick lips, the heat from her core begging me to take her. Her eyes met mine, filled with longing and desire, and she raised her hips, urging me on. It took every ounce of self-control not to just take her hard and fast. I filled her pussy with a slow, deliberate thrust, and she tightened around me. Aria’s gasps mixed with my own groans as our bodies came together.

Her legs wrapped around me, pulling me closer, urging me to abandon all restraint. And then, in one fluid motion, Aria reversed our positions. Straddling me, she claimed dominance with a grace and ferocity that rendered me awestruck.

“Let me show you how much I need you,” she said, grinding her hips against mine.

With every movement, she took us both closer to the brink, stoking the fires within us until they raged out of control. Our cries mingled with the fury of the storm outside, nature’s tumultuous symphony echoing the crescendo of our passion.

“Gods, yes,” I groaned, my hands gripping her hips, guiding her descent into pure hedonism. The power in her thighs was a revelation, her strength a perfect counterpart to my own.

She moaned, throwing her head back as she rode me with a wild abandon that left no room for thought, only feeling—the exquisite press of flesh on flesh, the relentless pursuit of shared oblivion.

With a growl that rumbled from deep within my chest, I flipped her onto her back. Aria’s eyes widened with surprise, then darkened with lust as I covered her body with mine.

My movements became powerful and relentless, each thrust designed to take us higher, to push us both toward the pinnacle of pleasure. We moved in perfect harmony, the primal rhythm we shared attuned to the beat of our racing hearts.

Aria’s fingers curled into my shoulders, her nails digging into my flesh as if she could anchor herself to this moment, to the raw intensity that surged between us. Her body trembled beneath me, and she clamped down around me, giving me all the encouragement I needed to let go.

“Aria!” I exclaimed, my voice guttural as my release thundered through me. My body shuddered with the intensity of my orgasm, every muscle tensing and untensing in waves of pure ecstasy.