Page 14 of Collar Me Crazy (Hollow Oak Mates #8)
RYKER
F rom his position on the hillside above town, Ryker could see the Founding Festival preparations in full swing.
Strings of magical lights were being hung between buildings, and the main square was being transformed with booths and decorations that would glow warmly against November's chill.
The sight should have filled him with the same anticipation it sparked in the rest of Hollow Oak's residents.
Instead, it just reminded him how much of an outsider he remained.
Twenty years in this town, and he still felt like he was watching life through a window rather than living it. The other couples moved through the preparations with easy familiarity, their bonds adding an extra layer of warmth to the community connections he'd never quite managed to forge.
His wolf whined softly, flooding him with memories of the way Sonya had looked at him in the cabin. The animal wanted to go to her, to join the community as the pack animal he was but Ryker forced himself to turn away from the festive scene below.
He had work to do. Work that didn't involve analyzing his feelings or pretending he deserved the kind of happiness the other couples had found.
The sanctuary felt quieter than usual when he returned, though that might have been his imagination. The dryad was dozing in her grove, the messenger hawk had finally been cleared for flight, and the handful of other residents were going about their usual routines.
But something felt different. Wrong, maybe.
He was checking the perimeter wards when he caught the scent. His wolf perked up immediately, ears forward and alert, while his human mind cursed the way his body responded to her presence.
She was here. At his sanctuary.
He found her in the main feeding area, methodically distributing hay to the deer shifters who came and went as they pleased. She'd clearly done this before, moving with the kind of careful competence that came from understanding animal behavior.
"You're going about that wrong," he said, stepping out of the tree line.
Sonya didn't startle, though her shoulders tensed slightly. "How so?"
"The older doe there, Sage, she's got a hierarchy thing. She needs to eat first or the others won't settle." He moved closer, noting how she didn't back away. "Here, let me show you."
Their hands brushed as he took the hay from her, and the familiar spark of recognition made his wolf rumble with satisfaction. But Sonya simply stepped back to give him room, watching as he approached Sage with the deference the elderly shifter expected.
"There," he said as the other deer began to relax and feed. "Animal politics. Even shapeshifters can't escape them entirely."
"How did you know I was here?" she asked.
"Caught your scent." The honest answer slipped out before he could filter it. "My wolf has excellent tracking abilities."
"Right. Wolf shifter." She settled onto a fallen log, and after a moment's hesitation, he joined her. "I was hoping to run into you, actually. That’s why I’m here."
"Why?" The question came out more defensive than he'd intended.
"Because you can't keep avoiding me forever, and we need to talk about what's happening to the Veil." Her tone was matter-of-fact, practical. "I've been having visions, Ryker. Bad ones. And after last night's meeting, I think time is running out faster than anyone realizes."
He studied her profile, noting the worry lines around her eyes and the way she held herself like someone carrying a heavy burden. "What kind of visions?"
"The kind that show Hollow Oak tearing itself apart from the inside. Magic bleeding out, protective barriers failing, people running for their lives." She turned to meet his gaze. "And in every vision, you're at the center of it. Either stopping it or causing it."
The weight of prophecy settled on his shoulders like a familiar coat. "So you came here to what? Convince me to embrace my destiny?"
"I came here to understand what we're dealing with. Because whatever's happening, it's connected to us. To what we are to each other." She gestured between them, careful not to use words like 'mates' or 'bonds.' "I can't help anyone if I don't understand the full picture."
They sat in silence for a moment, watching the deer shifters graze in the fading afternoon light. He didn’t know what to say, but the longer they sat in the quiet, the more natural it felt, Ryker realized. Sitting with her, sharing the quiet satisfaction of caring for creatures who needed help.
"Tell me about this place," she said eventually. "How did you start it?"
"Accident, mostly." He leaned back against the log, surprised by how easy it was to talk to her when they weren't discussing prophecies or mate bonds.
"Found an injured fox shifter when I was eighteen, brought her back to my cabin to heal.
Word got around the supernatural community that I had a safe place and some medical training. "
"Medical training?"
"Varric made sure I learned. Said everyone should have skills that help people.
" He gestured toward the small medical cabin visible through the trees.
"Started with basic first aid, but I kept learning.
Took correspondence courses, read everything I could get my hands on. Turns out I have a knack for it."
"You care about them," she observed, watching him watch the animals.
"They don't ask questions about prophecies or expect me to be anything other than what I am." His response was almost a whisper. "They just need help, and I can provide it. Simple."
"Nothing about you is simple," Sonya said with a small smile. "But this place, what you've built here, it's incredible. You're helping creatures that most people would never even know exist."
Pride warmed his chest at her words, unfamiliar but not unwelcome. He'd never thought of his work as incredible, just necessary.
"What's your dream for it?" she asked. "Long term, I mean."
Ryker hesitated. He'd never shared his real plans with anyone, partly because they seemed too ambitious and partly because admitting to long-term dreams felt dangerous.
"Expansion," he said finally. "There's a creek that runs through the back of the property, perfect for water shifters. I've been thinking about building specialized habitats, maybe partnering with other sanctuaries to create a network for creatures who need long-term care."
"That sounds amazing. What's stopping you?"
"Funding, mostly. And..." He trailed off, unwilling to voice the deeper truth.
"And you don't think you'll be around long enough to see it through," she finished gently.
He looked at her sharply. "I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to. You talk about this place like it's temporary, like you're just holding it together until someone else takes over." She shifted to face him more fully. "But this is your life's work, Ryker. You should be making plans that assume you'll be here to see them through."
"Some of us don't have that luxury."
"Because of the prophecy?"
"Because I've learned not to count on happy endings." He stood abruptly, needing distance from her perceptive brown eyes. "People I care about get hurt. It's better for everyone if I keep my plans small and my connections temporary."
"Is that what this is?" she asked, standing as well. "A temporary connection?"
His wolf wanted him to say no, to tell her she was everything and more. His human mind insisted that temporary was safer for both of them.
"I don't know," he said honestly.
"Well, that's a start." She gathered her jacket from where she'd left it on the log. "For what it's worth, I think your expansion plans are brilliant. And I think the creatures you help are lucky to have someone who cares as much as you do."
She was halfway to the parking area when she turned back.
"Ryker? Whatever else happens, whatever these visions mean, you should know that what you've built here matters. You matter. Don't let fear of the future stop you from planning for it."
Ryker stood alone among the deer shifters as darkness settled over the sanctuary. Her words echoed in his head, challenging assumptions he'd held for so long they felt like facts.
Maybe she was right. Maybe he had been living like his time was borrowed.
The question was whether he was brave enough to start believing in a future that included more than just survival.