Page 22 of Collar Me Crazy (Hollow Oak Mates #8)

RYKER

R yker woke to the scent of jasmine tangled in his sheets, and his wolf's absolute certainty that the woman sleeping beside him was everything they'd ever need.

Sonya lay curled against his side, dark hair spread across his pillow, one hand resting over his heart like she was claiming it even in sleep.

His wolf hummed with satisfaction, flooding him with contentment and the unshakeable knowledge that she was theirs. Mate. The word resonated through every cell in his body, as natural as breathing.

But his human mind was already racing ahead to consequences.

The prophecy. The sacrifice. The choice that would determine whether Hollow Oak survived or fell to the Void.

Last night, wrapped in her warmth and the wonder of finally, finally being with her, it had been easy to push those fears aside.

In daylight, with Varric's words echoing in his memory, the weight of responsibility settled back on his shoulders like lead.

Sonya stirred against him, and he forced himself to stay still despite the urge to either pull her closer or flee entirely.

"Morning," she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone.

"Morning." His morning voice came out rough. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I finally understand what all the fuss is about." She lifted her head to look at him, brown eyes warm with satisfaction and something deeper. "You?"

"Good. Great." The lie tasted bitter. "Sonya, about last night?—"

"Don't." She placed a finger over his lips, cutting off whatever backpedaling he'd been about to attempt. "Don't you dare try to make this into a mistake."

"I'm not. It wasn't. But we need to talk about what happens next."

"What happens next is we figure out how to save everyone without sacrificing ourselves." She sat up, taking the sheet with her, and the casual way she claimed space in his bed made his wolf rumble with approval. "Unless you've decided to go back to the martyr complex."

"It's not a complex if it's actually necessary."

"Ryker." Her tone carried warning. "We talked about this. You don't get to make unilateral decisions about our future."

"What if it's not about us anymore? What if every moment we spend together makes the situation worse?" He sat up as well, putting distance between them before his wolf could convince him to pull her back down. "What if last night was the trigger that starts the countdown?"

"Then we deal with it."

"You don't understand." He stood, pacing to the window where dawn light filtered through the trees. "I can feel the difference, Sonya. In my magic, in my connection to the Veil, in everything. My wolf knows what you are to me now, more than even before, and that knowledge is changing things."

"What kind of things?"

How could he explain that he could sense every protective ward in Hollow Oak like they were part of his own nervous system? That the magical disturbances felt personal now, like attacks on something he was meant to defend? That power was building in him, ancient and wild, begging to be released?

"The kind that make me dangerous to everyone around me."

He heard her get out of bed, but didn't turn when she approached. Her hand settled on his shoulder, warm through his t-shirt.

"You're not dangerous to me."

"You're the most in danger of anyone." He finally faced her, noting how she'd wrapped herself in his flannel shirt.

Even that small claim of ownership made his wolf possessive.

"The prophecy is specific, Sonya. The eighth bond, completed willingly by both parties, triggers whatever comes next. And after last night..."

"After last night, we're closer to completing it than we were before," she finished. "I know. I can feel it too."

"Then you understand why I need to be careful. Why we need to be careful."

"Careful is one thing. Shutting me out is another." She moved closer, close enough that he could smell his own scent on her skin. "Don't confuse protecting me with abandoning me."

"I'm not abandoning you. I'm giving you space to reconsider before it's too late."

"Too late for what?"

"For you to walk away and find someone who won't get you killed."

She was quiet for a long moment, studying his face with those too-perceptive eyes. When she spoke, her voice was gentle but implacable.

"I'm not walking away, Ryker. Not from you, not from this, not from whatever's coming. So you can either waste energy trying to push me away, or you can use that energy to help me figure out how to beat this thing."

He wanted to argue, to list all the reasons why staying away from each other was the logical choice. Instead, he found himself reaching for her, pulling her against his chest and burying his face in her hair.

"I can't lose you," he said quietly. "I won't survive it."

"Then don't lose me. Fight for us instead of against us."

They stood like that for several minutes, holding each other while the November morning grew brighter outside. His wolf settled, content with her closeness, but his human mind was already planning.

"I need to prepare the sanctuary," he said eventually.

"For what?"

"For whatever's coming. If the Void breaks through, if the protective barriers fail, people are going to need somewhere safe to go." He pulled back.

"Of course. But Ryker?" She cupped his face in her hands. "While we're preparing for the worst case scenario, we're also going to keep looking for a better option. Deal?"

"Deal."

She kissed him then, soft and sweet, and for a moment his wolf convinced him that maybe love really could conquer everything. But as she gathered her clothes and prepared to leave, the weight of the prophecy settled back around him.

After she left, Ryker threw himself into preparations with the kind of focused intensity that had kept him alive this long.

He reinforced the sanctuary's protective wards, using techniques Varric had taught him years ago.

He inventoried supplies, calculated how many people the facility could shelter, identified weak points in the defenses.

But underneath all the practical planning, one thought circled endlessly through his mind: he'd tasted heaven in Sonya's arms, and now he was expected to give it up to save the world.

The messenger hawk found him around noon, perched on the porch railing while he installed additional ward stones.

"You look different," she observed in the common tongue.

"Different how?"

"Your scent's all tangled up with the seer's now." She preened her healing wing thoughtfully. "Also miserable. Shouldn't you be happy about finding your mate?"

"It's complicated."

"Ah. Politics?"

"Prophecy."

"Worse than politics." The hawk tilted her head, fixing him with one golden eye. "Word of advice? Running from destiny usually just gets you there faster. And in worse shape."

"I'm not running. I'm preparing."

"For what?"

"To keep everyone safe when everything falls apart."

"Including her?"

Ryker's hands froze on the ward stone. "Especially her."

"Even if keeping her safe means letting her go?"

The question hung in the air between them, sharp and unavoidable. Because that was the real choice, wasn't it? Not just about completing the bond or triggering the prophecy, but about whether he was strong enough to sacrifice his own happiness for the greater good.

The way his pack had sacrificed themselves for him.

"If that's what it takes," he said quietly.

The hawk studied him for another moment, then spread her wings. "Good luck with that," she said, launching herself into the sky. "Humans never did understand that some things are worth more than survival."

As evening approached and the sanctuary's defenses hummed with new power, Ryker stood on his porch and looked toward town.

Somewhere in those twinkling lights, Sonya was probably having dinner, or helping with preparations for whatever crisis was coming, or thinking about him the way he was thinking about her.

His wolf whined, wanting to go to her, to claim her completely and dare the universe to stop them. But his human heart, scarred by too much loss, whispered that loving someone meant being willing to let them go.

Even if it destroyed him in the process.