Page 6 of Collar Me Crazy (Hollow Oak Mates #8)

RYKER

R yker made it halfway back to the sanctuary before his legs gave out.

He collapsed against an oak tree, pressing his palms against the rough bark while his wolf howled in protest beneath his skin.

The animal wanted to go back, wanted to track down the woman with the ebony hair and claim what was rightfully theirs.

"Shut up," he growled aloud, earning a concerned chirp from a squirrel overhead. "Just shut the hell up."

But his wolf refused to be silenced. It paced and whined, flooding him with pictures of brown eyes and the scent of jasmine and magic. The recognition had been instant and absolute. Mate. His wolf knew it with a certainty that made Ryker's bones ache.

Which was exactly why he had to stay away from her.

His phone buzzed. Text from Varric: Everything alright? Sensing some disturbance in the local magic.

Ryker stared at the screen, his hands shaking slightly. Of course Varric could sense it. The elder wolf probably knew exactly what had happened the moment Sonya touched him.

Fine. Just dealing with a difficult patient.

Not entirely a lie. His wolf was definitely being difficult.

If you need to talk, you know where to find me.

Ryker pocketed the phone without responding. Talking was the last thing he needed. Talking led to explanations, and explanations led to hope, and hope led to destruction.

It always did.

He forced himself to his feet and continued toward the sanctuary, but his mind was already dragging him backward through time. To a night twenty-three years ago when hope had died in blood and moonlight.

The screaming started just after midnight.

Twelve-year-old Ryker jolted awake in his den, the sound of his mother's terror cutting through his dreams like a blade. Outside, pack members were shouting, running, the scent of fear and violence thick in the mountain air.

"Stay here," his father commanded, bursting into the den with eyes that flashed between human brown and wolf gold. "Whatever happens, don't come outside."

"Dad, what's?—"

"Promise me." His father's hands gripped Ryker's shoulders hard enough to bruise. "Promise me you'll stay hidden until Varric comes for you."

Varric. The elder wolf from the neighboring territory who'd been visiting their pack, studying old prophecies and asking careful questions about Ryker's birth date. The one who'd looked at him with something between pity and fear.

"I promise."

His father kissed his forehead and was gone, shifting mid-stride as he raced toward the sounds of battle. Ryker pressed himself against the den wall, covering his ears against the cacophony outside. Howls and gunshots and the wet sound of claws tearing flesh.

It felt like hours before the silence fell.

When Varric finally found him, the elder wolf's clothes were torn and bloody, his face grim with the weight of failure. "Come on, son. We need to go."

"My parents?—"

"Gone." Varric's voice was gentle but final. "They're all gone. I'm sorry."

Ryker stumbled outside, and the sight that greeted him would haunt his nightmares for decades. Bodies scattered across the clearing, both human and wolf forms twisted in death. His mother. His father. His sister who'd been planning to mate with the beta's son come spring.

All dead because of a prophecy about a wolf born under a blood moon who would either unite the clans or destroy them all.

All dead because others feared what he might become.

The memory faded as Ryker reached his cabin, but the shame remained. Fresh and sharp as the day it happened. His pack had died protecting him from those who saw his prophecy as a threat. Varric had brought him to Hollow Oak, given him sanctuary and a chance to build something good.

But prophecies had a way of catching up eventually.

His wolf whined again, flooding him with image after image of Sonya's face when she'd looked at him beside the lake. The wonder in her eyes, the recognition, the way she'd reached out like she wanted to comfort him.

"No," he said firmly, addressing both his wolf and his own treacherous heart. "We're not doing this. We're not dragging her into our mess."

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts until he found the number for the Hearth & Hollow Inn. Miriam answered on the second ring.

"Hollow Oak's finest establishment, Miriam speaking."

"It's Ryker. You have a guest named Sonya Sibyl?"

"I do indeed. Lovely girl, very polite. She's settling in nicely." Miriam's voice carried that careful neutrality she used when she sensed undercurrents. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Tell her I'm not available. If she asks about the sanctuary, tell her we're closed to visitors indefinitely."

A pause. "Ryker, honey, what's going on?"

"Nothing. I just don't want to be bothered."

"Uh-huh." Miriam's tone suggested she wasn't buying his act any more than Twyla had. "And I suppose it's just coincidence that you're calling about our newest guest right after I heard about a little magical flare from the direction of your place?"

Damn small towns. Damn supernatural communities where everyone could sense everyone else's business.

"Just give her the message, Miriam. Please."

"I'll give her your message," Miriam said carefully. "But Ryker? Running from something doesn't make it go away. Sometimes it just makes it stronger."

She hung up before he could respond, leaving him alone with his wolf's increasingly agitated protests. The animal wanted out, wanted to track Sonya's scent back to town and stake a claim that would complicate both their lives beyond repair.

Instead, Ryker headed for the medical cabin to check on his patients. Work had always been his refuge, the one thing that made sense when the rest of his world felt like chaos. The messenger hawk was awake and alert, testing her wing with careful movements.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better," she said in the common tongue. "The pain's nearly gone. I should be able to shift and fly tomorrow."

"Take another day. Better to be cautious."

She studied him with those sharp golden eyes. "You smell different. Agitated. Find yourself a mate?"

Ryker's hands stilled on the medication bottles. "What makes you say that?"

"You've got that scent shifters get when they find their other half. All wound up and conflicted. Course, you also smell like you're planning to do something stupid about it."

"I'm not planning anything. There's nothing to plan."

"Uh-huh." The hawk shifter settled back onto her bed. "Word of advice? Denying what your animal knows is true tends to make them cranky. And cranky shifters make mistakes."

Ryker finished his rounds in brooding silence, but her words echoed in his mind. Cranky shifters make mistakes.

He'd been making mistakes his whole life. The biggest one had been surviving when his pack died. The second biggest might be staying in Hollow Oak, building connections with people who'd be safer if he just disappeared.

But letting Sonya get close, letting her matter, letting himself hope for something he could never have?

That would be the biggest mistake of all.

His wolf snarled disagreement, but Ryker ignored it. He'd gotten good at ignoring inconvenient truths over the years.

He just hoped this time would be easier than it felt.