Page 24 of When Two Worlds Collide (Fated Mates, Stubborn Hearts #1)

ZANE

D awn breaks over the mountains, painting the sky in shades of blood and gold. I watch Ember stretch beside me, her panther form rippling with newfound power. One day into the ritual, and already she moves differently—less thought, more instinct.

She meets my eyes, and I see only a predator looking back. Good. The civilized ambassador is sleeping, letting the true hunter emerge.

I rise and shake dew from my fur, then pad toward the stream. She follows without hesitation. After drinking, I scent the wind and catch it—an elk herd, half a mile north. Large herd. Strong bulls.

I look at her, tilting my head toward the scent. Her nostrils flare as she catches it too. Yesterday, she would have charged ahead, relying on speed and those lethal fire-touched claws. Today she waits, watching me for the plan.

Pride swells in my chest. She’s learning.

We move through the forest like shadows. I take point, showing her through body language how to place each paw for silence. How to use the wind. How to read the subtle signs—broken twigs, crushed grass, fresh scat—that tell the herd’s story.

When we reach the ridge overlooking the meadow, I freeze. Below us, thirty elk graze in the morning mist. Two massive bulls stand sentry while cows and calves feed.

Ember presses against my side, her excitement thrumming through our contact. I feel the heat building beneath her fur—her fire responding to the hunt. But it’s different from what I’ve seen before. Not the controlled flames of a civilized shifter, but something rawer. Primal.

I bump her shoulder, directing her attention to a young bull on the herd’s edge. Good size, but separated from the group. Perfect target for two hunters.

We circle wide, using the tree line for cover. I position myself upwind, ready to drive him toward her ambush point. She understands without explanation, melting into the undergrowth where the bull will flee.

I wait until she’s in position, then explode from cover with a hunting howl.

The herd scatters in panic. The young bull bolts exactly where I knew he would—straight toward Ember’s position. I pursue, snapping at his heels, driving him faster.

She strikes from the shadows like divine retribution.

Fire erupts along her form as she leaps—not the careful flames I’ve seen before, but wild torrents that follow the lines of her body. She lands on the bull’s back, claws finding purchase, flames searing hide. The elk bellows, bucking violently.

I dart in, hamstringing him with surgical precision. He stumbles. Ember adjusts her grip, jaws finding his throat. Together we bring him down, six hundred pounds of muscle and fury reduced to meat by perfect coordination.

The kill is clean. Quick. Honorable .

She releases his throat and steps back, blood painting her muzzle. Her eyes meet mine, pupils blown wide with triumph. The flames gradually die along her fur, leaving her sleek and lethal in the morning light.

I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

We feast in companionable silence, tearing into the warm flesh with savage satisfaction. She eats like a wild thing now—no hesitation, no civilized squeamishness. When she cracks a leg bone to get at the marrow, contentment rumbles through my chest.

This is what I wanted her to understand. The pure freedom of the hunt. The satisfaction of providing. The bond between predators who kill together.

By afternoon, we’ve cached the remaining meat and found a pool fed by hot springs. She plunges in without hesitation, and I follow. The warm water soothes muscles tired from the hunt.

She paddles over to me, playful now with her belly full. When she nips at my ear, I retaliate by dunking her head underwater. She surfaces sputtering and launches herself at me.

We wrestle in the shallows—teeth and claws carefully sheathed, more play than battle. But when she manages to pin me briefly, her smaller form somehow leveraging mine into the mud, heat of a different kind spreads through me.

The mate bond pulses between us, demanding more than play.

She feels it too. Goes still above me, her golden eyes darkening. The air between us charges with tension that has nothing to do with hunting.

I flip us easily, covering her smaller form with mine. She doesn’t fight, just watches me with those predator eyes. Waiting. Wanting .

The need to claim her properly nearly overwhelms me. But not like this. Not as animals. The final claiming requires both forms—beast and human united.

I step back, shaking water from my coat. She follows me onto the bank where the afternoon sun warms the rocks. We sprawl together, touching but not pushing for more. Not yet.

As evening falls, we hunt again—rabbits this time, quick prey that tests her speed against my strategy. She catches two to my one, preening with satisfaction at her victory.

Night brings us back to our sheltered grove. The moon rises full and bright, casting silver patterns through the leaves. She paces restlessly, the bond pulling at us both.

I shift first.

The change flows like water, wolf becoming man between one breath and the next. She watches, still in panther form, those golden eyes tracking over my naked body with unmistakable hunger.

“Shift,” I tell her, voice rough from disuse.

She resists for a moment, her panther reluctant to give up control. Then the change ripples through her, fur becoming skin, claws retracting, until she kneels before me in human form.

Blood still stains her mouth. Her hair is wild, matted with leaves and dirt. Scratches from our wrestling mark her shoulders. She’s never looked more perfect.

“We’re not supposed to be human,” she says, but makes no move to shift back.

“We need both forms for the claiming.” I move closer, unable to resist touching her. My hand traces the curve of her shoulder, feeling her shiver. “Are you ready?”

“I—” She stops, conflict clear in her eyes. “The third night. We should wait.”

“Should we?” I cup her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. “ The bond grows stronger every hour. I can feel your need, wildfire. Just like you feel mine.”

She leans into my touch. “What if we can’t stop? What if?—”

I silence her with a kiss.

Not the desperate violence of our first encounter, or the guilty passion in her office. This is slower, deeper. I taste the wild on her lips—blood and freedom and fire. She moans into my mouth, hands tangling in my hair.

I lay her to the moss, covering her body with mine. Every point of contact burns with the bond’s demand. She arches beneath me, nails raking down my back hard enough to draw blood.

“Zane,” she gasps when I bite the junction of her neck and shoulder. “Please?—”

I know what she’s asking. The bond screams for completion, for the final claiming that will join us permanently. My body aches with the need to take her, mark her, make her mine in every way.

But through the haze of desire, rationality surfaces. The ritual has rules. Patterns laid down by a thousand generations of wolves. To break them now might weaken what we’re building.

“Not yet,” I growl against her throat, though it kills me to say it. “Tomorrow. Under the blessing of the third night.”

She makes a sound of pure frustration, then bites my shoulder hard enough to mark. “Then why did you shift?”

“Because I needed to taste you.” I kiss her again, swallowing her whimper. “Needed to feel you. To know you want this as much as I do.”

“I do,” she admits, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Moon help me, I do.”

We lie together in the moonlight, skin to skin, fighting the pull of the bond. Every breath is torture. Every heartbeat demands we complete what we’ve started. But we hold the line, that last barrier between almost and everything.

When dawn approaches, we’re still awake, still wound around each other, still fighting.

“Shift,” I finally order, putting distance between us. “We need to hunt.”

She obeys, the panther emerging with obvious relief. I follow suit, letting wolf instincts drown out human need.

But as we leave the grove, I catch new scents on the wind. Wolves. My wolves. Watching from the ridgeline, drawn by the power of an alpha’s claiming. They don’t approach—that would violate sacred law—but their presence is noted.

By tonight, the entire pack will know their alpha has chosen a mate. A civilized mate who burns with wild fire, who hunts like she was born to it, who challenges me in ways no wolf ever has.

The final night approaches, and with it, a change that will reshape both our worlds forever.