“It’s just shock. It’ll pass in a few minutes,” I say.

She nods once, her body relaxing into me ever so slightly. When I stroke my thumb on the back of her hand, she goes rigid again.

“I don’t need coddling. It’s just unspent adrenaline,” she snaps, scowling at me over her shoulder.

I hate that I enjoy her prickliness. It should put me off, but I either have a true death wish, or I’m twisted enough to delight in the fact that it will take time to break her. It will make besting her more satisfying. If she were some wilting flower, I would feel bad—like I was taking advantage of someone who was truly innocent in all of this. But knowing that she’s a viper in a vixen’s clothing frees me from that fear.

She shifts yet again, trying to put space between us, and I’d laugh at her stubbornness if every shift didn’t rub her perfect backside against my cock. Divine deliver me. Much as I remind myself she’s poison, my body doesn’t care. She’s going to drive me insane before we ever reach the fort.

I know it’s just the afterglow of the fight—the thrill of surviving death—that makes me want to live as hard as I can. I know the impulse to drink and fuck and carry on—to live like I’ll die tomorrow. It has nothing to do with her and everything to do with my nature and the magic humming in my body.

The forest begins to thin, and I slow Nightsong where the trail grows wider and brighter. We come around the bend, and I blow out a sigh of relief as I spot my parents, two guards, and Carter and Bryce on the trail ahead of us. I knew they’d be fine, but it’s still a relief to see them safe.

I pull Nightsong to a stop next to them. My father looks us over, sniffing the air.

“She’s hurt.” His tone is disapproving.

“Actually, she’s fine. Just eager to get off this horse,” Harlow says.

My mother’s eyebrows fly up, and she purses her lips the way she does when she’s trying not to smile. It takes me back to simpler times, when Holly would do something reckless and my mother would be trying to scold her but unable to keep from laughing.

Horse hooves pound somewhere down the trail behind us. Harlow turns and leans to peer around me as her bodyguard and the rest of our men appear.

Despite his age, Gaven looks unshaken by the battle. His clothing is splattered with dark blood, but his face is stoic.

“He lives to lurk another day,” Harlow taunts, but I can tell she’s relieved to see him.

“Onward,” my father says.

We continue down the trail at a slower pace, and Harlow’s previous terror seems to be forgotten. She looks around, peering into the forest on either side, drinking in every inch of the scenery as if it will disappear the moment she looks away. I suppose for someone who has lived her whole life behind big city walls, she’s feeling the impulse to soak it in.

The last few miles before the hill to Mountain Haven are quiet and uneventful.

“What will happen when we arrive?” she asks as we clear the forest and begin up the steep mountain trail.

“I wouldn’t expect a welcome party, if that’s what you mean. I’ll take you to bathe and you’ll have time to rest and have dinner in your rooms. You’ll be formally introduced tomorrow at dinner.”

She glances down the side of the cliff as Nightsong turns up a switchback.

“It’s better if you don’t look down,” I say.

She meets my gaze over her shoulder. “I think it’s better if I do.”

I’m startled by her defiance, even so far from home—by the way she didn’t flinch when I cut her hand and made her bleed all over the forest floor. This woman, who grew up in safety, seems so undaunted by danger.

The large stone wall of Mountain Haven finally comes into view as we round the bend in the trail, and Harlow gasps. The sunset paints the cream stone brilliant orange. She stares at it, transfixed by the vicious scar that marks the wall in a brighter shade of white—installed ten years ago when the Drained came and fractured our world.

“That is what survival looks like,” I say.

Every time I see it from the outside, I feel the same creeping dread up my spine. The fear comes in these moments as fresh as it was that night. I’m here and whole, but looking at my home from the outside, it’s almost comforting to see a monument of all we lost that night.

“They broke through.” Her voice is barely a whisper.

“They did.”

“But how? I thought they just broke through the doors.” She turns to look at me, her expression a mixture of horror and curiosity.

She is either the world’s greatest actress, or she really doesn’t know anything.

We crest the last hill, and the large metal doors creak open as my parents approach the gates.

Harlow sits a little straighter, her gaze darting around the entry.

“Looking for an easy escape, lovely?” I taunt.

“Just a prisoner sizing up her cell, my feral wolf,” she counters, her voice overly sweet.

As soon as Nightsong trots through the entrance, I feel the weight of eyes on us. Harlow keeps her gaze straight ahead, like she can feel it too.

As we wind through the narrow streets of Mountain Haven, Harlow’s composure slips. She gawks at the structured housing and the bustling little city we’ve built. “I thought you said you went to ground.”

“We did. For a year. While we rebuilt the walls.”

“I thought you said a lot of your people died.”

“They did.” I offer no further explanation.

She continues openly staring at the busy streets as we ride through the six levels of the fort toward Havenwood House.

The people pay us little mind. Though some stop to gape at her, most continue about their day, trying to get tasks completed before dusk.

When we reach the stables, I dismount and help Harlow down. She’s steadier on her feet than I expected her to be, but her hips must be sore.

Her guard dismounts and rushes to her side, looking at the blood matted to the slashes in her cloak.

She bats his hands away. “It’s a scratch, don’t fuss.”

Gaven gives me a look that would wither a lesser man. “You had a responsibility.”

Harlow presses a hand to his chest. “I’m fine, Gaven. Henry got me here in one piece.” She meets his gaze, her voice low. “I’ve seen worse.”

He frowns, but his shoulders relax and he takes a step back, folding his arms behind his back. “I’ll need a full layout of the manor with all entry and exit points, and I’d like to see Harlow’s rooms.”

“She’ll be staying with me,” I say.

I’m not sure what madness drives me to think it’s a good idea, but several of our guards are already crowding around the manor doors for a glimpse of her, and I’m not about to let her become a vulnerability to some lesser man who wants my place of power. I did not fight this hard for this long to lose my chance at vengeance now. My family didn’t suffer unimaginable losses and drag our people back from the brink of extinction so that I could let some bystander snatch away my vengeance.

My father gives me a side-eye, but it’s Harlow who crosses her arms and glares at me.

“That’s inappropriate for an unwed couple,” she says.

I clear my throat. “I meant you’ll stay in the adjoining rooms meant for my wife.”

She’s supposed to stay in guest quarters for propriety’s sake until the ceremony, but our people aren’t terribly traditional, and I want her close so that I know what she’s up to.

I hold out an arm for her to take. She threads her left hand through it, wincing when I bump her. I know she hurt that wrist.

“I’ll take you to the baths and I’ll heal your wounds.”

“That would be highly inappropriate,” she says, louder than she needs to.

“Are you suddenly modest, wife?” I say, my voice low.

“Are you suddenly unconcerned with appearances, husband? After spending all that time to perfect your hair?”

Bryce lets out a low whistle beside me.