Page 35

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

NOVA

T he wind rushes past me, carrying the chill of the mountainside and the cold, clean scent of snow-draped pines, and the smell of every single creature within a mile radius. My paws barely touch the ground, muscles coiling and releasing in perfect rhythm as I sprint across campus. Everything feels brighter, clearer in this form—the snow beneath my claws, the snap of twigs underfoot, the cold air sailing through my fur. Freedom courses through me. It’s exhilarating.

Faster, my wolf urges, her voice an eager whisper in my mind. We’re not done yet.

Reckless , I counter, though I don’t slow. There’s a giddy thrill in letting her have her way tonight. The moons sit high above us, bathing the snow-covered landscape in crimson light.

The world is ours.

Leaping over a fallen log, I angle toward the woods. The hum of campus life fades as I plunge into the trees, weaving through the maze of trunks and underbrush. The scents here are intoxicating—a blend of fresh pine, sodden moss, and something sweeter that clings to the air like a whisper. My wolf inhales deeply, her excitement thrumming through me.

What’s that? she murmurs, her curiosity pulling us forward.

Probably just a rodent , I reply, though even I know it’s not. The scent is richer, layered with something almost … familiar. I shake it off, focusing instead on the rush of snow I carve through and the thrill of the chase—though I’m not chasing anything but the feeling itself.

The forest opens into a clearing, and the sound of bubbling water catches my ear. I skid to a stop, my paws kicking up a spray of powdery snow. The hot springs. Steam rises in delicate spirals, curling into the frigid night air. The contrast of heat and cold is striking, and for a moment, I just stand there, breathing it in.

And then I smell it.

It hits me like a jolt—subtle at first, almost lost in the mix of minerals and steam. But it lingers, elusive, like a word on the tip of your tongue. My wolf’s nose twitches, her attention zeroing in on the source.

Do you smell that? she asks, her voice almost reverent.

Yeah , I admit, padding closer to the water’s edge. The scent is hard to pin down—clean and crisp, like the aftermath of a passing storm, with hints of something fresh, almost like mint. Beneath that, there’s a barely-there sweetness, and it’s fleeting, like sugar catching the edge of a flame before it melts away. It lingers, familiar in a way that tugs at the edges of recognition, but never quite settles.

My wolf prowls restlessly in my mind, drawn to it in a way I don’t understand.

I crouch near the edge of the springs, steam curling around me like ghostly fingers. The scent is stronger here, wrapping around me in waves that make my heart race. My wolf growls softly, not in anger but in some primal, unspoken need.

We’ve smelled this before, she insists. But where?

I don’t know. The scent tugs at something deep inside me, a memory just out of reach. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply, but it doesn’t help. If anything, it makes the ache worse.

My wolf shifts uneasily, her excitement tempered by something else. It’s important, she says, almost to herself.

Let it go , I tell her, pulling back from the edge. We’ve got more ground to cover.

But even as I turn away, the scent lingers, threading through the night air like a promise I can’t ignore. Almost like it’s calling me.

The forest thins as my paws pound the snow-covered ground, all kinds of smells infiltrating my nose. There’s something else here—sweat, blood, adrenaline. I slow, my ears twitching toward the sound of muffled cheers and heavy thuds echoing through the night.

What the fuck?

Ahead, an old warehouse looms, its steel frame rusted and weathered. A pale glow seeps through cracks in the walls, pulsing with movement, as if the building itself is alive. My hackles rise, curiosity and unease prickling at the base of my spine. I crouch low, creeping closer until I spot a side door hanging slightly ajar.

The noise grows louder as I nudge the door open with my muzzle. My wolf’s instincts flare at the heady mix of scents—stale beer, unwashed bodies, and the coppery tang of fresh blood. The space is cavernous, the kind of place that feels forgotten by the world. Rusted beams arch overhead, and dull, flickering lights paint jagged shadows across the floor.

In the center of it all is a makeshift fighting ring, surrounded by a raucous crowd. Males and females press close to the ropes, their faces flushed with excitement as they shout and jeer. My wolf bristles, and I can feel her growling low in my mind, uneasy but drawn to the chaos.

Then I see him and my whole soul sings, even as my body stiffens.

Callum .

I let out a whine, but it can’t be heard over the noise.

He’s shirtless, sweat dripping down his chest as he ducks a swing from his opponent—a broad-shouldered fae with some type of scaled armor running down his arms. My wolf stills, her attention locking on him with a possessive intensity that makes my breath hitch. He moves with the grace of a predator, dodging blow after blow, his fists striking back with brutal precision. But there’s a sheen of magic in the air—it’s subtle as it ripples, but it’s unmistakable. My wolf growls again.

Magic. The other guy’s using fucking magic.

My claws scrape against the concrete as my rage builds. He’s only human, and this asshole is playing dirty. The crowd roars as the fae lands a blow, sending my human staggering back against the ropes. His chest heaves as he steadies himself, a defiant glare in his eyes, even though blood drips into them from his forehead. But I see the shimmer of magic building around his opponent’s fists, waiting for the next strike. And poor Callum has no fucking clue.

He’s ours, my wolf snarls. And he’s being hurt.

I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. I act.

The crowd barely registers me until I’ve already leapt over the ropes, a blur of fur and snarls. Gasps and shouts erupt as I land between Callum and his opponent, my teeth bared and a deep growl rumbling in my chest. The fae steps back, his confidence faltering as he stares down at me.

“Nova!” Callum’s tone is a hard reprimand, but I barely hear him. My wolf has taken over, and all I care about is the bastard in front of me.

The fae raises his hands, murmuring something under his breath—a spell, no doubt—but he’s too slow. I lunge, my jaws snapping around his arm before he can release the magic. His scream pierces the air as I drag him down, my teeth sinking into his flesh. The taste of his blood fills my mouth, hot and metallic, and I growl, shaking him like a rag doll.

The crowd erupts into chaos. Some people cheer, others scream, but it’s all a blur. My wolf wants to finish this, to protect what’s hers. It’s only when Callum’s lilting accent reaches my ears that I release the fae, my jaws dripping with blood.

“Nova, stop! Please!”

I turn to him, panting, my fur bristling with unspent rage. His eyes lock on mine, wide with shock and something else—not really gratitude, perhaps awe. But before either of us can say anything, the fae on the ground stirs, groaning as he clutches his arm.

“You bitch,” he spits.

I snarl, taking a step toward him, but Callum grabs my scruff, holding me back. “Nova, no. It’s over.”

His touch sends a strange calm rippling through me, enough to make my wolf retreat just a little. The crowd begins to disperse, some muttering about the fight being rigged, others already placing bets on the next round. The fae stumbles to his feet, glaring at us before slinking off into the shadows.

Callum crouches beside me, his hand still on my fur. “What the hell were you thinking, lass?” he whispers, his words gentle. “You could’ve been hurt.”

I huff, shaking his hand off as I step back, putting some distance between us. My wolf might be satisfied, but I’m not. I glance at Callum, taking in the bruises on his ribs, the cut above his brow, and feel a pang of guilt beneath my lingering anger.

“Let’s get out of here.” He holds out his hand. “Before someone else decides to start trouble.”

I nod—at least, as much as I can in this form—and follow him toward the exit. My wolf stays close to his side, her body tense, but her fragile, bruised heart more at peace than she’s been in a long time.