The mate bond was dimming.
That alone sent fury through his veins. A dimming bond meant unconsciousness, severe injury, or worse—something actively suppressing her ability to reach him.
They ran for the transport as Elder Corwin’s voice followed them, demanding explanations that Kovrak didn’t have time to give. The vehicle soon roared to life beneath Thalen’s hands, tires screaming against stone as they tore through the town streets toward the palace.
Faith.He reached for her again, pouring every ounce of will into the connection.Answer me.
Nothing. The bond pulsed weak and distant, like a candle flame guttering in a storm.
“Drive faster,” he snarled, his claws extending involuntarily as the tiger beneath his skin began to pace. Whatever was happening to his mate, whatever enemy had dared to touch her while she was under his protection, they would pay in blood.
The perfect day was dissolving into a nightmare, and the only thing that mattered now was reaching her before it was too late.
SEVENTEEN
FAITH
The palace kitchen had become Faith’s sanctuary of creation for the past hour, the air thick with the perfume of caramelizing honey and bright citrus zest that danced together in an alchemy she was still perfecting. Steam rose from reduction pans while her hands moved with practiced precision, adjusting ratios as she chased the perfect balance for her final festival offering—an innovative dessert that would capture both fire and sweetness, symbolizing everything she and Kovrak had become together.
Her body still hummed with the afterglow of their morning, the healing mate mark on her hip a constant reminder of how everything had shifted between them. The bond pulsed beneath her skin, making her feel simultaneously herself and something stronger and more focused than she’d ever been. The memory of taking control, of watching his ice-blue eyes darken with surrender as she moved above him, sent heat through her veins even now.
She turned and reached for the oven handle, a pan of delicate pastry shells balanced in her other hand, completely absorbed in the rhythm of creation. The scents, the heat, the promise of something extraordinary taking shape under her guidance—it felt like meditation, like coming home to herself in the most fundamental way.
Which was why she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her.
“Faith.” Liora’s voice cut through the hum of ovens, tight and strained in a way that caused Faith’s spine to stiffen with instant alarm.
She turned around, pan still gripped in her hand, and felt the world tilt sideways. Liora stood frozen near the entrance, her bright blue eyes wide with terror as a broad-shouldered stranger held her against his chest. The man’s grip looked bruising even from across the kitchen, his thick fingers wrapped around Liora’s delicate arms with casual threat.
Behind them, entering the kitchen as if he owned every stone of the palace, came Varrek.
“Do as you’re told and don’t resist, please,” Liora managed. The raw fear in her friend’s tone made Faith’s stomach drop like a stone.
Instinct screamed at her to run—to dart through the service corridor she knew led to the guard station. But the sudden glint of metal in Varrek’s hand rooted her feet to the stone floor. A knife, its blade catching the kitchen’s warm light with predatory gleam.
Leaving would mean abandoning Liora to whatever these men intended. And Faith had learned long ago that abandoning people in need was not who she wanted to be.
“Listen to your friend,” Varrek said, his voice carrying the same bored tone he might use to discuss the weather. “Don’t cause problems, and this will be much simpler for everyone involved.”
His green eyes held no malice, no wild anger—just calculating calm that somehow made him infinitely more dangerous than if he’d been ranting or threatening. This was a man who had planned every detail.
“How did you get past the guards?” Faith demanded, surprised by how steady her voice sounded when her heart was hammering against her ribs.
Varrek’s mouth curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I’m not the enemy here, Faith. Many in the pride respect me enough to grant entry for official business. The guards were quite accommodating when I explained I needed to discuss some concerns with Kovrak.”
“They told him Kovrak wasn’t here,” the stranger holding Liora added with a grunt. “Said he could wait if he wanted.”
“And I said that was perfectly fine,” Varrek continued smoothly. “Until your friend here showed up and tried to ruin perfectly reasonable plans.”
“You have no business being here!” Liora snapped, some of her usual fire breaking through the fear. “You’re a manipulative?—“
The stranger’s grip tightened, cutting off her words.
“I do have business here,” Varrek said, taking a step closer to Faith. The knife remained loose in his grip, almost casual, but its presence filled the space between them like a living threat. “The business of taking you away for a few days. Think of it as a little trip.”
He spoke as though this was an inconvenient errand rather than carefully planned abduction, and that casual tone made Faith’s skin crawl more than outright threats would have.
“Liora too now, since she had to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong.” Varrek’s gaze flicked to the smaller woman with mild annoyance. “Really, this could have been so much simpler.”