Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Agnar

It could be a cruel land, but after the driving snows and icy temperatures that stole the breath clean out of his body, Agnar craved the red dirt and earthy smell of his desert home. There was death there and darkness, but it was also a land strewn with sunlight and flowers, their pungent scent perfuming the air. It might be a perilous place to live, but its beauty was resplendent.

The delicate beauty of his mate was nothing like Arizona.

Shadowed in the dark of night, Prairie Rose faced the window as she had for most of the drive. No matter how many hours passed, she stayed fixed in one place like a statue. She was beautiful in the traditional sense. High cheekbones, star lights twinkling in the depths of velvet brown eyes, a delicate nose, and full lips. Her hair, somewhere between blonde and white could probably have been called champagne. Expensive champagne. Prairie Rose was as regal as any princess, especially dressed in a velvet dress, the fabric so thin that it looked decades old and in danger of tearing the second she made a single movement.

Nothing much scared Agnar anymore, but there were the intrinsic fears that ran so deep they couldn't be rooted out. The fear of death or pain visited on his children. The fear of losing his pack, of being wiped out, of becoming extinct. The ever-present threat of enemies, humans, and discovery. Prairie Rose was a new brand of terror. It fizzed through his bloodstream like he'd downed a whole bottle of champagne and then reached for another and another.

If his new mate was hoping for a break on the twelve-hour turned fifteen-hour journey because of the terrible blizzard in Wyoming, she was going to be sorely disappointed. He'd brought three of his men with him, senior pack members who were good soldiers and warriors to a man, not only for protection, but because they'd split the driving and ensured they were all alert to potential dangers.

To say he disliked being out of Arizona and off pack land was an extraordinary understatement for the acute discomfort he felt.

When the rented black suburban shot over the Arizona state line, he felt that it was his job to prepare his silent, flushed bride for what she was about to encounter. He'd promised her brother, who was the alpha of the pack, and her parents, that he'd take good care of her. He'd sealed that vow with a mating ritual and his own blood. Sometimes, he felt like Atlas, bowed under the weight of the entire world. Prairie Rose was nothing more than another responsibility.

The men he traveled with under the cloak of night couldn't be mistaken for anything less than thugs, which was why they stuck to the cover of darkness. They'd draw unwanted attention to themselves otherwise.

The suburban had three rows of seating. Ireland was currently driving, and though he was still not more than a pup in his twenties, he was one of the best trackers they'd ever produced. Their pack had been raided and participated in raids for centuries. Vengeance was something his wolves understood. It was fed to them as babies and spooned into their mouths all their lives.

But living in a constant state of warfare had taken its toll on their pack. Their numbers had dwindled drastically. They were raising children and they'd taken women from other packs and mated them. Families were torn apart by deaths, and since the women of their pack trained as warriors because they needed to know how to fight and defend themselves, sometimes both parents tragically died, and their offspring were raised with another family.

He'd been alpha for three and a half years, and in that time, he'd fought hard to bring about a peace that was tenuous, but holding.

Beside Ireland was Bathos. He was a big brute, but he was kind—if anyone in their pack could be called such a thing. He had a fondness for stray animals that no one could rid him of, and for some strange reason, they gravitated to him. Usually animals shied away from shifters, sensing the wolf underneath the human.

Gideon dozed in the seat behind Ireland. He'd taken the first shift driving. Dozed, because none of them ever really slept.

He inhaled deeply, studying the white-gold crown of his mate's hair, twisted into numerous braids and pinned up on top her head. When he cleared his throat roughly, she finally turned. She looked like a prairie rose. Beautiful, but hardy, he hoped. She'd have to find her thorns. No doubt, she'd need them. He had no notion of how to lay down the rules she'd need, so he just got on with it, knowing full well it made him sound like a tyrant and excusing that by telling himself she knew what she'd mated.

"You must always obey me, above all else. Never publicly argue with me or denounce me. Disobeying an alpha's orders can be punished by death."

Her sweet coral lips parted. "You're joking."

"I'm utterly serious about everything I'm going to say to you, which is why I'm saying it now, before we get to the pack." The others pretended they couldn't hear what was being said, but he knew how attuned they were to every word.

"So, if you said the sky was green and I said it was most definitely blue, even though I would be right and rational science would be on my side, you'd what? Behead me with one of your battle axes?"

If he wasn't so fucking dead inside, he might have smiled at that. He was borderline relieved that she had some sass. She looked like she'd blow away in a strong wind.

The women of the pack would eat her alive. His children were going to run roughshod over her, even though he'd long suspected that his sons had more of their mother's intelligence and softness and far less of his unfeeling warrior soul.

The males would detest her and scorn her for being an outsider, especially those who didn't want and didn't believe in peace. They were trained, unruly, dangerous men, and for the last three and a half years, he'd penned them in. No raids. No fights. No vengeance. They saw their skills wasting away on building better quality housing and putting together a community. The fights amongst themselves had increased as frustrations mounted.

"I would never claim the sky to be green. I'm not talking about rational disagreements. I'm not above being corrected, and I can admit when I'm wrong or at fault."

"I see." She tried to appear cold, but it didn't work on her the way it worked on him. Perfecting that marble sculpted fa?ade had taken years of training. She'd had no need to perfect such a thing before now.

"There's the manner of my home and my children. Our packs are nothing alike. We agreed to this mating because not going through with it would have had dire consequences, and neither of us wanted our packs embroiled in a war. You did this to save your family and the ones you love, as I did. I had no desire to ever be mated again. You might be the alpha female now, but you will not stand at my side. My pack will have trouble respecting you. You have no authority on my lands. You will not command my wolves."

No one could call the Nightfalls mean people. The men might be larger than humans, but they didn't have the warrior look about them. They weren't covered in scars, both physically and mentally. They lacked the starved, haunted look that most of his pack carried. When he looked into the eyes of the alpha's family and into those of the people at the ceremony the day before, he'd found them brimming with life. They might have been reserved at having outsiders amongst them, but no one was hostile or unfriendly. They all had an innocent air about them that made them seem almost childlike. He knew they were still wolves and could still be deadly—one of theirs had killed one of his, starting the whole sorry business that almost brought them to war and necessitated a peace pact between them—but deadly was a sliding scale.

Her eyes glinted like a pair of glowing candles. "No. Of course not. We don't believe that an alpha pair should rule their pack like a king and queen or like a set of tyrants. My mother stood by my father, giving him wise counsel. She was a rock for him at all times. She loved our pack and cared far more for every single person in it than she ever did for herself. She's wise and kind and a more compassionate woman you'd be hard pressed to meet."

"Compassion and kindness have little place on our land. The desert is a hard place, princess, as you'll find out."

"I'm no princess," she pointed out, a hint of steely annoyance creeping into her voice. She was far too easy to provoke. The sooner she lost that trait, the better.

"No, but you are soft."

She raised a brow at that and looked like she was going to challenge him. She might as well have it out before they reached the pack. There, he hoped she'd take his advice to heart and only question him in private, if at all. She might not be a warrior, but the way her jaw jutted stubbornly and she lost that sweet, innocent, biddable look, he figured she was used to having the freedom to speak her mind.

"I think that we might differ on our versions of soft. There's something to be said for having an inner strength and intelligence to match. And everyone needs kindness."

He didn't bother telling her that life could easily beat the kindness out of a person or any desire for it. She'd find out soon enough. "Don't try to befriend others in the pack. They'll tolerate you because you're my mate, but as I said, they won't respect you. We defend the man to our left and the man to our right because we all fail otherwise, but friendship is another non-necessity."

She winced, looking at him like he'd tricked her. Obviously, she'd never dreamed she was going to such a barbaric and lawless place. The way her hands clutched in her lap, the knuckles bone white, anyone would think that he was taking her straight to hell.

He was trying to make their life sound bleak and awful because he didn't want her to be unprepared or disappointed. Of course, it wasn't all that way. Families loved their children. Sometimes mates even formed strong bonds, but not always. If they came to respect each other, that was often enough. Prairie Rose wouldn't understand. She'd come from a pack where people took mates for love.

Love was like peace. Fleeting. Fragile. Doomed to utter failure.

"About our mating…" He trailed off when she turned away to study the swiftly moving black of the night. It was so dark, one could almost lose their bearings, as if they were traveling on the black ocean or through space and not on asphalt at all. He choked back annoyance that she wouldn't even face him, her alpha and her mate. "We both know this is a mating for peace only. I do hope that we can live in a kind of harmony and that you grow to accept the desert as your new home, and even that you might grow to feel a sort of tenderness for my children and an affinity for my packmates, but that is the most I could hope for."

"I won't shame you by calling it quits and going back home just because it's hard," she snapped in disgust. "I knew it would be hard before I agreed to this. My sister's mate already informed me of exactly what I can expect, but it was obvious when he was dropped on our lands, tortured near to death by his own father."

In truth, Agnar had been troubled by his beta for some time. Alexander had lost his mate when she was taken in a raid. His twin boys were something like six or seven at the time. Possibly, the loss had never even touched Alexander. He might always have been a cruel, hardened bastard. Privately, Agnar didn't doubt for a second that most of the opposition against him was led by Alexander. He was as clever and powerful as he was cruel. Agnar refused to fear him, and he'd made him beta so that he could keep him close.

After a few minutes, Prairie Rose turned back to him. Even when she searched his face, she got nothing. He'd killed most of the feeling inside himself long ago.

He decided on peace for the pack because he saw what continued war was doing to them. His own mate was killed. He'd been foolish enough to be one of those few that had found love. Pointless. That's what trusting your heart to someone else was. Everyone knew it was an unbearable weakness, and while he didn't truly believe that per se, there were times when that link could be exploited. Those who wanted to trust their hearts to another could do that, but those who chose not to, would not be forced or blamed or labelled monsters and sociopaths as society would have it. They lived in a different world, and that involved playing by different rules.

"You might be my mate until death, but you have to know, I will never love you. Don't hope for it. Don't strive for it. I'm not capable of giving you that."

She choked back a strangled sound so all that escaped was a hiss of air, but he couldn't tell if she was indignant or in disbelief over his callousness.

"The celebrations will already be well underway when we arrive. We celebrate differently than your pack does. You will see all manner of things tonight. What you must understand is that it is all consensual. Fights. Fucking. Feasting."

"Sounds like a messed-up three Fs."

"You must stay through it, and however you feel, try not to let it show. Let me speak for you tonight. The celebrations will go on until sunrise and you'll be present, at my side."

She sat there, staring at him in silent contemplation. She was his opposite in every way. Her face was so full of emotion he couldn't pick out just one thing. Was she thinking about her pack, missing them already? Was she worrying over her things being shipped in neatly labelled boxes he'd seen before they left her pack lands, stacked up in her neat little cabin? Probably not. She wouldn't be worried about possessions when she was no doubt missing her people and worried about the life ahead of her.

"Your things will be arranged in my house as you see fit. You're welcome to make any changes you wish, but you will share my bed." Her hand curled into a fist in her lap. He imagined her striking him and drawing blood, coming to him willingly and licking it away. He was immediately hard as steel in his black fatigues. It was unsettling and a shot of anger at himself heated his blood. "I won't touch you until the point you ask me to. If you should want children beyond the two I have already, I'll give them to you. They won't be brought about by immaculate conception, so you'll have to suffer me at the time. Are you a virgin?"

She gasped. The fist vibrated on her lap. How beautiful she'd look, provoked into a rage.

She shook her head, her cheeks growing scarlet even in the dark.

He shrugged. "I don't care one way or the other. Should you require any sort of herbs or medicines related to female matters, we have a wiseman for history and ceremony and a wisewoman for healings and birthing. They often work together, but some men will turn into brutes at seeing a man touch their female." She shifted closer to the window and further away from him, but she angled her face just enough that he knew she was listening, even if she couldn't bear to look at him. "I've painted a bleak picture of us, but it's too late to turn around."

"I hope in time I'll find that you prepared me for the worst so I could be pleasantly surprised to find it all not nearly as bad. Unbearable or not, I won't break my vow. Mating is a sacred act. Mating is for life. I didn't enter into it lightly, thinking I could just run back home to all that's familiar. I might not have been raised the way you were, but our people take our oaths seriously. I'll stand by your side, as is required of me."

He'd never said so many words in his life, but he found he couldn't stop talking to her. "You'll meet my sons in the morning. No children are allowed at the latter part of this ceremony, and even though we haven't arrived yet, the mating is done and official and the drinking and fucking will have started in earnest. Don't try to domesticate or tame my children. They're a bit of a lost cause. I love them dearly, but they're warriors both and as unruly as weeds. They've been without a mother for the better part of their lives and can barely remember her. She was not a soft woman. Don't think they're undisciplined. They're not. They'll listen to me, but I'm afraid whatever you think children should be, they won't fit that mold."

"I would never hold it against a child for being something other than what someone older thinks they should be. That's a stifling and unimaginative view of raising a child. Raising means nurturing and guiding, not controlling."

"Good. It can't be seen that you're sullen and unhappy with your choice or that you resent being with us. Don't appear afraid. You'll eat and drink with us. Turn a blind eye to the things you wouldn't approve of."

"I don't drink alcohol."

"Pretend, then. That's required tonight. In private, you can be yourself. Part of being a warrior is going to war with a straight face, even the first time, when you might be afraid. It means leaving those you love to secure a future for them, knowing you might not live to see it. I know you don't know this or truly understand, but our pack has known so much loss. Great amounts of loss. Keep that in mind before you judge them harshly."

Only now was her disgust plain. She lifted her hand and pressed her palm to the tinted window. "I don't plan on judging anyone."

"You have the kind of face that broadcasts your every emotion. I know better than to try to ask you to change. I'm not here to make you unhappy or stifle you. I'm honestly just trying to do right by you as I promised I would." He should likely have led with that. She might have seen him as trying to gentle her, not break her.

"I see that," she muttered darkly with heavy sarcasm.

Agnar let her have her peace, returning to staring out the window. Soon, they'd drop off the rental, reclaim their truck, and be back home where he could breathe again.

Possibly. He had a feeling he'd be getting into a few fights of his own over what might be said by those who didn't approve of his new peace and took it out on his new mate before the night was over.