The bitter mountain wind roared through the outer gates of Blackthorn Citadel, carrying a blinding sheet of white snow.
Soren’s fingers were already going numb inside his gloves, but the heat radiating off the massive black warhorse beside him kept the worst of the freezing cold at bay.
He grabbed the leather rein, looking over his shoulder at the dark silhouette of the fortress fading into the swirling storm,and the distant iron bells that began to ring behind them across the courtyard in a sharp, frantic alarm signaling that the spell-cutter and the Alpha had broken through the perimeter.
“Up,” Kaelen commanded smoothly, grabbing Soren by the waist with both hands.
Before Soren could even prepare himself, Kaelen lifted him effortlessly into the heavy leather saddle of the warhorse and the sudden shift in height made Soren’s head spin, but before he could gather his balance, Kaelen swung his long leg over behind him, mounting the beast in a single, fluid motion.
The leather sit strapped to the back of kaelen’s war horse was built for one broad warrior, forcing Soren straight back into Kaelen’s chest.
Soren went stiff with his breath catching in his throat as he is encased from behind by kaelens broad body shielding him from the howling wind like an impenetrable wall of muscle and iron armor.
Kaelen reached forward, his large hands reaching past Soren’s ribs to grab the horse reins, along with effectively trapping Soren within the circle of his arms.
The rose-colored chain between their wrists clicked against the swords hilt of the saddle, glowing with a soft, pulsing red light.
“Hold on to the horse’s mane Soren,” Kaelen gritted out near Soren’s ear, his hot breath brushing against Soren’s neck.
“Or hold on to me.
I don’t care which, as long as you don’t fall off.”
“I am not going to fall off,” Soren rasped out, though his small hands instinctively reached out and gripped the thick, leather-bound iron rim of Kaelen’s horse’s mane.
*He’s too hot,* Soren thought frantically, his mind racing as the heavy scent of pine, snow, and raw Alpha dominance flooded his senses.* It feels like sitting next to a furnace.
If I lean back even just an inch, I can feel his heart hammering right against my spine.*
Kaelen dug his boots into the black horse’s side flanks earning a deep snort from the massive stallion with its powerful hooves digging into the thick snow as it surged forward into the dark, frozen night.
The second horse followed close behind, tied to their saddle by a heavy leather lead.
They rode like shadows down the jagged, winding mountain trail, leaving the ringing alarm bells of the Citadel far behind.
For three hours, the storm raged around them, burying their tracks in fresh snow powder.
The path grew steeper, narrower, and far more dangerous as they climbed into the lower ridges of the Frost-Pike range.
Massive jagged rocks rose on either side of the narrow trail like frozen giants, their sharp edges covered in thick sheets of blue ice.
Soren on the other hand stayed completely motionless against Kaelen’s chest, with his body stiff from the bitter cold and the overwhelming physical proximity.
And every time the stallion stumbled over a hidden rock in the snow, Soren was thrown hard back against Kaelen’s broad torso, feeling the powerful beat of the Alpha’s heart against his back with the physical strain of the earlier anchor spell, combined with the freezing air, that began to take toll on Soren’s body.
A few hours later His breath turned shallow, his pale lips shivering uncontrollably despite the heavy fur cloak Kaelen had wrapped around his shoulders.
Kaelen felt the slight, steady tremor in Soren’s body.
Without breaking the stallion’s stride, Kaelen loosened his left grip on the reins, sliding his heavy arm around Soren’s waist and pulling him back firmly against his chest.
“Stop fighting it, little spell-cutter,” Kaelen murmured into the side of Soren’s hood, his deep voice carrying over the sound of the wind.
“Lean back.”
“I am fine,” Soren lied through chattering teeth, his fingers tightening around Kaelen’s armor.
“You’re freezing to death because you’re too proud to rest your head,” Kaelen said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
He tightened his grip around Soren’s waist, dragging him back until Soren’s head finally rested right in the hollow of Kaelen’s broad shoulder.
“There.
Is that so terrible?”
Soren closed his eyes, letting out a long, ragged sigh of cold air.
But the sheer, overwhelming warmth radiating from Kaelen washed over his shivering body, slowly melting the icy ache in his bones, while the electric pull of their mate-bond hummed quietly between them, no longer sharp or aggressive, but deep, steady, and strangely safe.
I am doing this to survive, Soren told himself, trying to quiet the wild, erratic fluttering in his chest.
I need his body heat.
It means nothing.
Once we reach the altar and break the curse, I will walk away and never look back.
Yet, even as the thought crossed his mind, Soren’s hand slowly relaxed against Kaelen’s iron armor, his bandaged fingers lightly resting over the silver wolf crest on the Alpha’s chest.
“Kaelen?” Soren asked softly, his voice almost swallowed by the storm.
“Hmm?”
“Lucian’s Enforcers will realize we took the mountain pass by sunrise,” Soren said, forcing his mind back to the harsh reality of their escape.
“They have spell-binders who can track elemental signatures.
How long do we have before they catch up?”
“They won’t catch us on the open trail,” Kaelen replied, his voice calm, steady, and completely unbothered.
“Lucian’s men are city warriors dressed in polished silver plate.
They don’t know these mountains.
They’ll freeze before they reach the mid-way summit.”
“And the Northern Pack?” Soren pushed, remembering the traitor Boran’s words.
“The rogue faction that wants you dead?”
Kaelen’s jaw clenched, his hold on Soren’s waist tightening just a fraction.
“They know these trails better than Lucian.
If anyone is waiting for us ahead, it will be them.”
Soren went quiet, staring out into the dark, swirling void of white snow ahead.
The weight of their reality hung heavy over them.
They were two men running from an army, bound together by a taboo curse that was slowly ticking down toward their execution date.
Yet, trapped within Kaelen’s arms in the middle of a frozen wasteland, Soren felt an uncanny, terrifying sense of peace.
Near four in the morning, the mountain trail narrowed into a terrifyingly tight ledge carved straight into the side of a sheer, vertical cliff.
Below them lay a pitch-black abyss; above them rose a wall of solid, ice-covered granite.
The snow had turned into a thick, blinding blizzard, making it impossible to see more than three feet ahead.
Suddenly, the lead warhorse let out a high-pitched, panicked whinny, its front hooves skittering wildly on a patch of black ice.
“Easy, boy!
Easy!” Kaelen barked, pulling hard on the reins.
The stallion’s hind legs slid off the edge of the icy narrow cliff, with loose rocks and snow tumbling into the black void below with an echoing crunch.
The massive horse neighed and back up in terror, its heavy frame tilting dangerously sideways.
“Soren, jump!” Kaelen roared.
Before Soren could react, Kaelen grabbed him around the ribs and threw both of them off the side of the horse, vaulting off the saddle just as the stallion lost its footing completely.
They hit the hard, snow-covered stone ledge together, rolling twice through the freezing drift before slamming hard into the solid rock face of the cliff.
Kaelen instinctively twisted his body in mid-air, taking the full, brutal force of the impact against his own back and shoulders, keeping Soren completely shielded beneath him.
A terrifying, gut-wrenching scream echoed through the night as the black warhorse slid off the cliff edge, plunging down into the dark abyss below.
Silence slammed back over the mountain, heavy and suffocating, except for the loud howling wind.
Soren then lay flat on his back in the deep snow, gasping for air while his heart hammered violently against his ribs like a trapped bird. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
Pressing down on top of him was Kaelen.
The Alpha was completely lying over Soren, his massive hands planted on either side of Soren’s head, breathing heavily.
Kaelen’s dark hair was dusted with white frost, his golden wolf eyes glowing wildly in the dark as he searched Soren’s face for any sign of injury.
“Are you hurt?” Kaelen growled, his voice thick with raw, frantic concern.
“Soren!
Speak to me!”
“I…
I am fine,” Soren gasped out, his chest heaving as he stared up into Kaelen’s dark, fierce face.
“I am not hurt.”
Kaelen let out a long, ragged breath, his forehead dropping down to rest lightly against Soren’s shoulder.
His heavy frame relaxed slightly, his entire body trembling with the leftover adrenaline of the fall.
“Gods above,” Kaelen breathed into the fabric of Soren’s cloak.
“Don’t ever do that to me again.”
Soren lay motionless in the snow, his hands resting flat against Kaelen’s broad chest.
They were so close that Soren could feel every single rapid beat of Kaelen’s heart pounding straight into his palm.
The pink chain between their wrists was glowing with a brilliant, violent crimson light, that throbbed in wild sync with their elevated pulses.
*He protected me,* Soren thought, his mind completely numb.
*He threw himself off a moving horse and took the slam against solid stone just so I wouldn’t hit the rock*
“Kaelen,” Soren whispered, his raspy voice cutting through the quiet howl of the wind.
“You…
you can get off me now.”
Kaelen slowly raised his head.
He didn’t move away.
Instead, he stayed hovering directly over Soren, his golden eyes scanning every inch of Soren’s pale, frost-dusted face then his gaze dropped down to Soren’s parted, shivering lips, lingering there for three agonizing, suffocating seconds.
The air between them burned hotter than a furnace as Soren’s breath hitched in his throat.
He felt the sudden, desperate urge to reach up, to wrap his hands around Kaelen’s neck and pull that arrogant, terrifying Alpha down until there was no space left between them.
The sheer electric chemistry hummed through his veins, making his entire body ache with an undeniable, terrifying hunger.
Kaelen raised his hand, his large, warm thumb gently wiping a layer of cold frost off Soren’s cheek.
His touch was so soft, so full of possessive tenderness, that Soren let out a faint, involuntary gasp.
“You look beautiful in the snow, little spell-cutter,” Kaelen murmured softly when he saw Soren’s pale face lying in the white snow, wearing a fur cloak.
His low voice dripping with a raw, intense heat that made Soren’s blood melt.
But Kaelen throwing himself off a slipping saddle just to take the brutal hit against solid rock for Soren?!
THE PROTECTIVENESS!
Lawd!(^_^) Well How do you think they are going to make it through the rest of Frost-Pike Pass with Lucian’s trackers and the Northern Pack close behind?
Drop your thoughts in the comments, add the book to your library, and drop a vote if you loved this chapter!
See you in Chapter 15