Snow Wolf land opens like a frozen dream. Pale-eyed guards let us through, white fur edging their collars.
Before the ancient Alpha, I say, “Lady Coralina of the Mountain Pack—researching Selena’s bloodline and our northern ties.” Nathan and Luca flank me.
“Many claim her,” he says—Snow Wolves, Winter Moon, Frost Walkers. “But our records were burned. The Cruel King killed Selena and sent riders north to erase her—archives, genealogies, libraries—all ash.”
“Nothing left?” Luca asks.
“Maybe not here.” He studies us. “We heal, but we are not oldest. Deep in the mountains lives a pack that predates us—the True Snow Wolves. If anyone remembers her origin, it’s their elders. The path is brutal; many never arrive.”
“We’ll make it,” Nathan says.
The Alpha nods. “Then go with the Moon Goddess. But know this: the truth was hidden because it was feared. Finding it may be the greater danger.”
Three days later, I'm remembering his warning as we navigate paths that barely deserve the name. The mountains rise around us like frozen teeth, the wind howling between peaks with voices that sound almost human. Our horses pick their way carefully through snow that comes up to their knees.
And I feel someone’s eyes on us, but can’t see anyone nearby.
"This is insane," Nathan mutters for the dozenth time, ice crystals forming in his auburn hair. "We should have brought more supplies."
"We're fine," Luca counters, though his usual brightness is dimmed by exhaustion. "Stop being such a—"
His horse screams. The sound cuts through the wind as the animal rears, eyes rolling white with terror. Something's wrong—the horse has been skittish all morning, but this is different. Luca fights for control, but the horse twists violently, and I watch in horror as he's thrown from the saddle.
The crack when he hits the rocks is audible even over the wind.
"Luca!" Nathan's off his horse before I can blink, racing to where his twin lies motionless in the snow. Blood spreads beneath Luca's head, staining the white ground crimson. His eyes are closed, body terrifyingly still.
Nathan drops to his knees, pressing hands against the wound, but blood seeps between his fingers. "Come on," he mutters, control shattered. "Don't do this. Not here."
I'm beside them instantly, hands shaking as I assess the damage. The gash is deep, bone visible. Worse is what I sense beneath—brain swelling that will kill him in minutes.
"Move," I tell Nathan. He shifts aside with wild eyes. I place my hands on Luca's head, feeling my healing power rising.
But something's different. The power doesn't trickle—it floods. I gasp as it pours into Luca, and I can feel everything. Not just the wound closing, but bone knitting, swelling reducing, tissue regenerating. My power reaches deeper than ever before.
The world tilts as I pour myself into healing him. I'm dimly aware of Nathan calling my name, but I can't stop. Not until Luca's safe.
When his eyes finally flutter open, I collapse backward into Nathan's arms, completely drained. Luca sits up slowly, hand going to his head where the wound was. There's nothing there now—not even a scar.
"What did you just do?" he asks, voice full of wonder and something else—awe, maybe fear. "Coralina, that wasn't normal healing. That was something else entirely."
"I don't know," I whisper, exhausted beyond measure. "My power, it's been growing since we left the capital. Getting stronger every day we travel north." I meet his green eyes, so alive when minutes ago they'd been vacant. "I couldn't lose you. Either of you."
Nathan's arms tighten around me. "You saved him," he says roughly, and I hear tears in his voice he'd never admit to. "You brought him back."
That night, we make camp early. We’re sitting in my tent, Luca hasn't left my side since the accident, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something deeper, more intense. Nathan tends the fire, giving us space he seems to sense we need.
"You terrified me today," I tell Luca as we sit together, wrapped in furs against the cold. "When I saw you fall, when the blood—"
"Shh," he murmurs, pulling me closer. "I'm here. Thanks to you, I'm here." His fingers trace my jaw, tilting my face up to his. "Do you know what scared me most? Not dying. It was the thought that I'd never get to tell you the truth."
"What truth?"
His green eyes are serious in a way I rarely see. "That I've been terrified this whole time. Terrified that I'm the lesser twin, the one you'd choose second if forced to pick between us. Nathan's so strong, so steady. And I'm just—"
"Everything," I interrupt fiercely. "You're light when the world gets too dark. You're laughter when I want to cry. You're essential, Luca. Irreplaceable."
His mouth crashes into mine, not with the wild hunger I’ve come to crave, but with the slow, aching burn of a man who’s clawed his way back from the edge of death. His lips tremble against mine, his breath trembling, tasting of desperation and something deeper, hotter—gratitude, maybe, or worship.
His hands are everywhere, rough and trembling, mapping my body like he’s trying to memorize every curve, every dip. His calloused palms slide down my sides, gripping my hips like I’m the only thing keeping him grounded.
“Coralina,” he growls, his voice ragged, his teeth grazing my bottom lip. His fingers hook into the waistband of my pants, yanking them down my thighs in one smooth motion, leaving me bare to the cold air. But the chill doesn’t last.
His mouth is on me, hot and wet, his tongue sliding between my legs with a hunger that makes my toes curl. He licks me like he’s starving, his tongue flat and relentless, lapping at me until I’m trembling, until my hands fist in his hair and I’m rocking against his face, shameless, desperate.
“Yes,” I gasp, my voice breaking as his fingers join his mouth, curling inside me, stretching me open, hitting that spot that makes me jerk and moan. He works me with a precision that drives me wild, his thumb circling my clit in tight, maddening circles while his fingers plunge deeper, faster.
My thighs clamp around his head, my back arching off the ground as his mouth and hands push me higher, closer to the edge. “Harder,” I beg, my voice cracking, my nails digging into his shoulders.
He obeys without hesitation, his fingers pumping harder, his tongue flicking my clit in quick, teasing strokes that have me writhing, screaming his name into the frostbitten night.
When I come, it’s with a cry that echoes through the tent, my body shuddering, my legs shaking as he licks me through it, his tongue milking every last drop of pleasure from me. He doesn’t stop until I’m boneless, until I’m pulling him up to my mouth, kissing him deeply, tasting myself on his lips.
Afterward, we lie tangled together. "The bond between us is getting stronger," he murmurs. "Can you feel it? The further north we go, the more intense it becomes."
I nod, because I do feel it—the mate bond humming between us like a living thing.
* * *
Two days later, we cross the second Snow Wolf border—and the world shifts.
The air sings on my skin; warmth pulses under the snow; my crescent scar blooms heat through me. Every cell chants: home. With each mile, the land feels me, welcomes me.
I’m coming home to a place I’ve never been.