Page 29 of Bound to Exiles (Rejected Wolf Pack #5)

Freya

Darkness enveloped our temporary camp as I nestled between Heath and Flint’s warm bodies inside the three-person tent. Their even breathing told me they’d finally fallen asleep after keeping me up with their attentions far too late. My body ached pleasantly, yet my mind refused to quiet.

The day had been full of revelations. Zak’s explanation of the Bonded connection had answered questions I’d been afraid to ask. Heath, Flint, and I had practiced Zak’s teachings during our fun, earning more trust for the mage among us.

I reached out through our Bonded link, immediately sensing that my fellow hybrid was awake and restless, pacing somewhere on the outskirts of camp on two legs. He still kept his wolf hidden from us.

After his confession to Gage about being afraid since his wolf was a beta, not an alpha, I’d hoped that we could build enough trust for Zak to shift and run with us, but so far he’d kept his distance.

I brushed against the bond with Rowan next, picturing him racing through the wildlands in his wolf form. Earlier, I’d invited him to join us, but he’d politely declined.

“I need to run,” he’d said, his golden eyes distant .

“Is it about Zak?” I’d asked, sensing his discomfort.

His gaze had met mine then, honest and troubled. “Yes. I can’t fully trust him or my feelings toward him until he runs with us.”

I’d understood immediately. For wolves, running together formed bonds that went beyond words. It revealed character, established trust, and sealed loyalties. Until Zak showed us his wolf, a fundamental piece would always be missing.

I sighed, my fingers idly tracing over Flint’s moon and stars tattoo while he slept. If only Zak could be as forthcoming about his wolf as he had been about the Bonded connection… perhaps then my other mates could trust him the way I instinctively did.

My thoughts drifted to our earlier discussion. Not just about how to pull the curtain closed across my mental window, but about how my final mate might become my Bonded. Another Odinswolf.

Six mates. The number still seemed impossible, yet the starlight that had marked us all confirmed it. Somewhere out there, my sixth mate was walking beneath the same stars, perhaps wondering about me as I wondered about him.

The thought struck me suddenly: if he was an Odinswolf like me, perhaps he could dreamwalk. Perhaps… I could find him.

I’d never intentionally dreamwalked before.

My previous experiences had been accidental — letting Rowan chase me through my dream during my first heat, entering Rowan’s nightmare, and drawing Zak to me during my last heat.

But Zak had been teaching me to control my magic.

What if I applied similar principles to dreamwalking?

I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing like Zak had suggested at one point. Instead of forcing my will upon the world, I needed to guide the energy that already flowed through me. Just as with the shield spell, I needed to set my intention and then let the magic follow its natural course.

I want to meet my sixth mate, I thought as sleep began to claim me.

My breathing evened out, and I relaxed between my mates, knowing they would protect me as my dreams opened possibilities I’d never before imagined .

As sleep pulled me under, I called to my inner wolf, Show me my Odinswolf mate.

I slipped into the in-between place where dreams began. Rather than being swept away by unconsciousness, I remained aware as the world around me shifted. Flint and Heath’s warm bodies faded, replaced by a boundless, foggy gray expanse. I stood alone in a formless mist that swirled around my ankles.

I looked down, surprised to see myself wearing a simple, pale blue shift. Wind caressed my skin, though I couldn’t feel cold or heat. The dream-stuff beneath my bare feet felt solid enough, though I couldn’t call it ground.

Was this how dreamwalking was supposed to work? I had no idea.

“Hello?” I called into the mist.

My voice sounded both far away and too close, as if the laws of nature didn’t apply here.

No answer came, but the mist began to shift.

Tentatively, I reached out to shape it with my hands, concentrating on forming something solid…

something that might show me the way toward my mate.

The fog dissipated beneath my touch, forming a path that stretched out before me.

I smiled, encouraged by this small success.

Where should I go?

I closed my eyes, focusing on my intention again, but calling to my inner wolf.

Show me the one who shares my wolf nature. The one marked by the sixth starbeam.

When I opened my eyes, the path had transformed into an upward trail.

The mist thinned, revealing a mountainside dusted with snow.

Tall pines stretched toward a star-filled sky, and the moon — impossibly full and close — cast silver light across the pristine landscape.

I walked for what seemed like hours in the timelessness of my dream.

A raven’s harsh call drew my attention upward. Two large, black birds circled overhead, their wings dark against the bright, starry sky. One swooped lower, its intelligent eyes meeting mine before it flew ahead, as if beckoning me to follow.

The dream felt more solid now, the snow crunching beneath my bare feet without feeling cold. I moved upward along the trail, following the raven’s path. The higher I climbed, the more real everything became. I could smell the pines, feel the slight resistance of the thin mountain air in my lungs.

I rounded a bend in the trail and stopped. There, in a small clearing ringed by trees, stood a beautiful white wolf. Moonlight gleamed off its coat, making it almost luminous against the snow. But it was the eyes that captured me — startlingly blue, even in wolf form.

Odinswolf mate , my wolf whispered within me, instantly recognizing him.

The pure white wolf regarded me steadily, neither advancing nor retreating. Those blue eyes held intelligence, power, and something more — recognition.

“This is a dream,” I said softly. “But you can talk to me.”

The air around the wolf shimmered, and in its place stood a man, very tall and muscular, with pale skin that suggested northern climates.

His blond hair fell to his shoulders, and those same ice-blue eyes now studied me from a human face.

He looked to be in his late twenties, probably only a year or two older than me, with strong Nordic features and an air of quiet intensity.

Within the impossibility of dreams, when he shifted, he magically appeared before me already wearing clothing — hip-hugging jeans and a worn flannel shirt. In this form, he carried himself with the confidence of someone completely at home in his own skin.

“You found me,” he said, his voice deep and accented. “I’ve been waiting.”

And when he smiled, it was dazzling. Something fluttered in my stomach as I regarded him, my sixth mate. His pleased smile felt so genuine, lighting his entire face.

I stepped forward, drawn in. “Did you see the starbeam?”

He nodded, his eyes searching my face as though he couldn’t believe what he saw.

“Almost a week ago. Luckily, I was alone in the wildlands when the starlight fell on me.” He touched his shoulder where I knew the tattoo would be. “I’ve wanted to meet you ever since.”

“I’m Freya. ”

“I’m Torsten. But you can call me Tor if you’d like.” He stepped closer, studying me with wonder. “I’d started to believe I might be the last of our kind left on this continent.”

I desperately hoped he knew more about our heritage than I did.

“You’re an Odinswolf,” I said, and he nodded. “Did you know your parents?”

“Yes.” His eyes shone with emotion. “My father was a Lokiswolf. My mother was an Odinswolf, and her blood ran true in my veins. After my father died, she and I were forced to flee into the wildlands. She died protecting me before I could shift.”

“I’m sorry,” I said softly, feeling his grief as though we already shared a mate bond. “My parents died when I was little, so I didn’t know what I was until recently. I thought I would never be able to shift.”

“That must have been difficult for you.” His words ached with the shared understanding of how misunderstood we Odinswolves were.

“It was, but my mates believed I would shift eventually, and I did.”

He nodded as if confirming something to himself. “The other starbeams.”

He circled me slowly, his movements graceful and deliberate. No threat existed in his posture — only fascination, as if he were memorizing every detail of my appearance.

“I saw them fall, but I was too far away to see who they marked. Odinswolves always take multiple mates. The stars often guide our path.”

Surprise hit me as I wondered for the first time whether my Odinswolf mate might already have mates of his own.

“Do you—”

“No,” the smile that cracked his serious expression drew a smile out of me in turn. “You are my first ever mate, Freya. And I look forward to meeting the other five.”

A subtle shift came over his expression then — a flicker of uncertainty beneath his confident exterior.

“They accept what you are? Your mates?”

The question revealed more than he probably intended. I understood immediately that he’d faced rejection for his nature, just as I had.

“They do,” I answered, stepping closer. “The Howling Echo isn’t like other packs. We’re all outcasts in one way or another.”

His eyebrows rose. “The Howling Echo? I’ve heard of them — a pack with no territory, alphas who rejected their birthright.”

“That’s us,” I smiled. “Though we’ve been through some changes lately.”

A raven let out a croaking sound, circling lower. It landed on a nearby pine branch, watching us with dark, intelligent eyes.

“Friends of yours?” I asked, nodding toward the birds.

Tor’s lips curved. “My eyes and ears. Odin had Huginn and Muninn — Thought and Memory. I have many friends.”

“Shifters?” I asked, but he shook his head.

“They’re beautiful,” I said, watching as another raven landed near the first.