It wasn’t long before he found the first body, already partially buried in snow. Then the second.
The third.
He stopped counting at seven, unsure if he should feel smug over the fact Michelle had sent so many to kill him and his alpha or be angry at her betrayal.
It wasn’t like it was a shock.
Fenrir paused, tipping his head as the pull on his chest grew. The scent of his alpha was faint, and though he’d never experienced a Shout bond before, he instinctively knew what to do. Pairing it with his omega senses, he used this newfound awareness to seek Oberon out, more confident than he’d been a moment ago.
Some of the bodies had holes burned straight through them, and others were missing limbs. A few were frozen with their fingers around their throats, as though they’d been struggling to breathe. The largest group of them was around fifteen, and when he discovered them, another sense of relief came over him for seemingly no reason.
Fenrir scrambled up a steep incline, completely unaffected by the cold wind as it tossed his hair about, frost sticking to his clothing. At the top, he caught the scent again, picking up the pace as he raced toward it, knowing he should be more cautious with his movements, yet unable.
Was it like this for everyone who mated? Did they usually take to each other this quickly?
Whispers had been all but extinct for decades. When he’d been a Shout and an alpha, Fen hadn’t even dreamed of finding one. His grandparents had been sure to educate him, though. He knew all about the connection that could form between a Shout and their Whisper. How possessive they could become of one another.
How all-consuming a bond like that could be.
It was similar to alphas and omegas. Even with a bond that couldn’t be physically felt, an alpha would be drawn to their omega, and vice versa.
Maybe Fenrir was reacting this way because he was both Shout and omega. Maybe his biology couldn’t tell the difference between a Whisper and an alpha, and all that mattered was he was mated now.
Honestly, Fen didn’t really care about the why. Even if that made him pathetic. Even if it was hard to understand.
Hewantedwhatever it was Oberon had been trying to offer him at the cottage.
He wanted the chance to choose the alpha back.
The scent led him to a blood trail, and even though he’d seen a ton of them by now, it caused his heart to leap in his chest. The red smear across the snow curved, vanishing between two large trees with heavy foliage around them.
The alpha was there, leaning against one of the trunks.
He appeared fine at first glance, like he’d been taking a stroll and ducked beneath the thick branches to avoid the snowfall, but when Fen got closer, he could make out the blue tint to his lips and the way his hands tremored at his sides.
Oberon’s pheromones snapped defensively a second before he realized who it was. All at once, he dropped his guard, letting out a little chuckle that wasn’t nearly as comforting as Fenrir imagined he believed it to be.
“Hey, precious,” the alpha drawled, eyes slipping shut. “Good job.”
“Where—”
“I’m fine.”
Fenrir bristled. “Just tell me where you’re hurt before you freeze to death.”
“It’s not that cold.” Oberon sent him a playful grin, but when Fen didn’t respond in kind, he sighed. “One of those bastards got me in the side. Lucky shot.”
“Let me see.”
The alpha peeled his shirt up, exposing the bleeding hole just above his right hip and removing the pressure he’d been applying in the process. As soon as he did, a rush of crimson poured out of him.
Fen shot forward, slamming his palm over the wound to staunch the blood flow. When he glared at Oberon, the alpha had the audacity to laugh.
“You told me to show you,” Oberon said.
“You’re a real asshole, you know that?”
“Keep talking to me all pretty like and I’ll be tempted to bed you right here, omega.”