Chapter 2

Carya’s POV

By dawn, the blizzard had finally loosened its grip. The world sat muffled under a thick, suffocating white silence.

Thin columns of smoke rose from the dying campfires as the border unit prepared to march home. I was still brushing the frost from my cloak when my mother’s voice cut sharply across the crisp morning air.

“Carya. Come here. It’s time you greeted our new Alpha properly.”

Lilith stood near the main tent. Her cheeks were still faintly flushed, her skin glowing with the unmistakable aftermath of the night before. She looked every bit the thoroughly claimed, contented mate.

The sight made my stomach churn.

I walked over slowly, my boots crunching loud against the packed snow, and stopped three paces away from the man who had taken her.

Rein was already standing on the low wooden platform, broad shoulders tense beneath his heavy fur cloak as he issued low, commanding orders to his captains. When he finally turned those piercing amber eyes on me, they were cold, calculating, and entirely unbothered.

“He is not my family,” I spat clearly, loud enough for the nearest soldiers to pause and listen.

The air went dead still.

Lilith’s soft smile faltered instantly. A muscle ticked tight in Rein’s jaw, but he only gave me the barest, condescending nod.

“Such a petulant little thing,” he murmured, his tone infuriatingly bored. “The mountain pass is still choked with snowdrifts. You’ll ride in the modified supply wagon with us. Three seats. End of discussion.”

His casual dismissal lit a fresh, violent spark of fury under my ribs.

I climbed into the narrow wagon without another word, jaw clamped tight.

The space inside was suffocatingly small. Rein took the bench facing the rear, his long, muscular legs stretched out, a rolled military map open across his knees.

Lilith sat toward the front, her back completely to us, sorting bundles of dried herbs and bandages with an oblivious, quiet domestic focus.

The canvas flaps were tied down against the biting wind, sealing the three of us into a dim, swaying little world.

The wagon lurched forward.

I waited until the wooden wheels found a steady, grinding rhythm on the packed snow. Then, without making a sound, I deliberately slipped off my heavy boots.

The wooden floorboards were freezing against my bare soles.

I shifted my weight, letting my right foot drift across the cramped space until my bare toes lightly brushed the polished leather of his military boot.

He didn’t even flinch.

I pressed more firmly, beginning a slow, agonizingly deliberate slide upward along the outside of his calf. The thick, rugged fabric of his trousers was rough against my sensitive skin.

When I reached the hard, coiled muscle of his lower leg, I paused, my toes tracing a small, intentional circle against the inner side. The tension hiding beneath the cloth was immediate—lethal, controlled, waiting.

Still, he said nothing. His eyes remained locked on his map.

Hatred burned hot and sharp in my chest. Yet lower, between my thighs, that same shameful, slick heat was already gathering again.

My body remembered exactly what it had watched him do last night. The simple, forbidden act of touching him was already shortening my breath. He had dismissed me like a misbehaving child outside. Let’s see him ignore this.

Anger made me reckless.

I pushed higher. My toes found the back of his knee, then the sensitive inner curve. I rubbed slowly, back and forth.

Rein’s thick fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on the edges of the parchment map. A low, warning rumble—barely more than a breath—vibrated deep in his broad chest.

I didn’t stop.

Higher still. Past the knee, sliding along the solid, tree-trunk line of his thigh. He was radiating heat like a furnace through the dark cloth.

My bare foot rested against the powerful muscle of his inner thigh for a long moment. I could feel the harsh, controlled rise and fall of his breathing now.

Then, I closed the final distance.

My toes pressed down exactly where the thick, heavy heat of him strained visibly against his trousers. I applied deliberate, agonizing pressure, circling slowly, mapping the hard length I had only imagined the night before.

The map in Rein’s hands went completely still.

Faster than a strike, his hand shot out under the cloak and locked around my bare ankle like a steel vice.

“Enough.”

The word was quiet. His grip was not. He tried to shove my foot away.

I twisted free and pressed down harder instead, my toes curling around his rigid outline, stroking him with clear, furious, unapologetic intent.

I felt the heavy, rigid throb of him jump against the sole of my foot.

His jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth might crack.

“I said enough, little wolf.”

I only pressed down harder, burning with spite, feeling the erratic pulse of his arousal fighting against his control.