Chapter 6
A violent shiver ripped through Audra’s spine.
Her inner wolf, starved and chained beneath years of psychic suppression, reared up in the dark, whining desperately, trying to press into that touch, trying to scent the thick, intoxicating air of her mate.
*No,* Audra screamed inside her own skull. *Keep the wall up!*
She stared straight into his amber eyes, refusing to look down, refusing to show the slightest tremor of weakness.
And then she heard him.
His mind was right against hers, an open, bleeding wound of raw longing and savage protective instinct:
*She smells like bitter herbs,* Ozias’s thoughts wept, a sound so intensely private that Audra felt like a voyeur peering through a bedroom keyhole. *Always the damned winter-rue. Why does she hide behind it? But underneath... gods, underneath, there’s lavender. Wild mountain lavender and sweet rain. It’s been three months. Ninety nights of lying awake in my bed, listening to her turn pages in the scribes' gallery, knowing that if I took three steps down the hall, I could kick her door off its hinges and claim what belongs to me.*
His eyes darkened, the pupils dilating until the amber was just a thin, burning ring of fire.
*I won't let Torin touch her,* his thoughts snarled with sudden, feral savagery. *If those northern bastards bring war into this valley, I’ll slaughter every living thing between here and the tundra to keep her safe. She has no pack. She has no father, no brother, no Alpha to stand in front of her. She’s alone in the world. But she doesn't have to be. If she would just stop looking at me like I’m a monster... if she would just bare her throat for five seconds...*
Audra’s throat tightened so hard she could barely swallow.
The sheer weight of his emotion was terrifying. In the mortal world, men loved with words and promises; in the wolf world, an Alpha loved with the terrifying, biological totality of an avalanche. If he claimed her, he would possess her entirely—her body, her name, her freedom. He would stand between her and the world, yes, but he would also stand between her and the door.
She could not afford to be loved like that. Love like that came with a cage.
"Why did you call the recess?" Ozias demanded aloud, his voice dropping into a rasp that brushed against her lips. "I had him on the ropes, Audra. I was ready to call his bluff."
"You were about to get yourself killed," she replied, forcing her tone to remain cool, analytical, and completely devoid of the fire burning beneath her skin.
Ozias’s brow furrowed. "What did you say?"
"Torin isn't bluffing about the mine," Audra said quickly, using the knowledge she had stolen from the envoy's mind to craft her counter-strike. "He doesn't want the quartz, Ozias. The mine is a distraction. The Frostbane have already slipped an infiltration unit through the old drainage aqueducts beneath your southern wall."
Ozias froze.
The romantic fog that hung between them instantly snapped, replaced by the lethal, razor-sharp focus of an experienced warlord. His amber eyes hardened like flint.
"How do you know that?" he asked softly.
There was no humor in his voice now. The hand resting against the cedar wall tightened, his knuckles whitening as his claws slightly lengthened, piercing the soft grain of the wood.
*How does she know?* The suspicion rose in his mind, dark and venomous. *The aqueducts were sealed twenty years ago. Even Nathan doesn't know the low watergates still exist. Who is she talking to? Has she been meeting northern runners in the night? Is she a spy? Moon above, please let her not be a spy. If I have to execute her, I’ll burn the entire province to the ground first.*
Audra felt the cold prickle of danger against her neck. She had pushed too far again, but she had planned for this.
"I didn't need to meet a runner to see what is written in the dirt on Torin’s boots," she said coldly, holding his gaze without a flicker of deceit.
"Explain," he commanded.
"Torin’s boots are caked in grey limestone silt and stagnant black moss," Audra recited smoothly, blending observation with pure fabrication. "There is only one place in this entire valley where stagnant black moss grows: inside the limestone tunnels of the old low aqueducts where the thermal runoff gathers. Furthermore, when he demanded the mine, three of his elders kept glancing toward the southern skylight. Why look south when the Silverpine Mine is sixty leagues to the north?"
She leaned forward just a fraction, matching his intensity, letting her breath brush against his stubbled jaw.
"They have archers in the old granary, Ozias. Torin is waiting for you to reject the terms so he can give the signal. The moment you roar, a silver bolt goes through your neck."
Ozias stared at her.
For four long seconds, the silence inside the small room was so dense that Audra could hear the distinct, double-thump of his massive heart hammering against his ribs.
Then, his eyes dropped to her lips, and the suspicion in his mind shattered into pure, unadulterated awe.
*Brilliant,* his inner voice whispered, a sound of absolute, helpless reverence. *Fierce, brilliant, untouchable little witch. She sees the world through silver glass. She didn't betray me. She’s protecting me. She figured out an assassination plot from moss on a boot.*
Slowly, the tension left his massive frame, but the physical proximity between them only grew thicker, hotter, and heavier.
Ozias didn't pull away. Instead, he stepped closer.
His broad chest made contact with hers. The coarse velvet of his tunic pressed against the thin wool of her bodice. The sheer, solid heat of him seeped through her clothes, making her gasp softly—an involuntary, feminine sound that sent an immediate shudder through his heavy shoulders.
"You protected me," Ozias murmured, his voice dropping into a dark, rough purr that made the dormant wolf inside her whine with frantic desire.
"I protected my contract," she corrected, though her voice lacked its usual bite. "If you die in this pavilion, the Calder elders will refuse to honor the payment vouchers for my translation work. I don't work for corpses."
Ozias let out a low, breathless chuckle.
He raised his hand from the wall and gently, with excruciating slowness, cupped her jaw. His thumb rested against the soft curve of her lower lip, pulling it down just a millimeter, revealing the white edge of her teeth. His touch was burning fire.
"Always the coins," he whispered, his eyes blazing with burnt gold. "Always the contract. Why do you fight me so hard, Audra? Do you really think I don't see what happens to your pulse every time I touch you?"
His thumb brushed across her lip again, teasing the soft flesh.
*I want to bite her,* his mind groaned, the urge so violent and sweet it felt like a physical ache in Audra’s own chest. *I want to sink my teeth into the crook of her neck, mark her until she carries my scent to her grave, and throw her onto the furs in my bedchamber. I want to spend the rest of my life watching her outthink every Alpha who dares step foot into our lands.*
