Chapter 38: Getting Ready for the Pack

Vanya woke sprawled on the floor, her body aching like she’d been tossed overboard and dragged through the Outlands by her ankles—which, to be fair, wasn’t far off. The furs beneath her were a poor excuse for comfort, and the heat of Killian’s body pressed against her side was a reminder of exactly how she’d ended up here. Not that she wanted to think about it.
Then, yesterday’s memory hit her like a punch to the gut: Killian pinning her to the wall, his mouth working her over until she’d shattered so hard she’d nearly blacked out. Exhaustion had claimed them both after, dropping them to the floor in a tangle of limbs and unspoken what the hell just happened.
Now, her eyes fluttered open, and there he was—Killian, awake and watching her with that smug, amber-eyed stare that made her want to claw his face off. Or climb him. Damn it, she hated that part.
“Morning, Red,” he purred, voice low and laced with sin. He shifted, propping himself on one elbow, the furs slipping just enough to reveal the hard planes of his chest. “Sleep well after I rocked your world?”
Vanya’s jaw tightened, her brain scrambling for a comeback while her body—traitor that it was—tingled at the memory. She shoved herself up, wincing as her muscles protested, and shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel. “Rocked my world? Please. I’ve had better naps.”
He grinned, all teeth and zero shame, stretching like a cat who’d just devoured the canary. “Oh, come on. You were screaming so loud the pack probably heard it across the Outlands. Don’t tell me you’re still playing hard to get after I had you coming undone like that.”
Heat flooded her face, and she hated it—hated him, hated the way her thighs clenched involuntarily at his words. “You’re delusional,” she snapped, crossing her arms like that could shield her from the smug bastard. “I was exhausted from days at sea, not your mediocre tongue.”
“Mediocre?” He laughed, dark and dangerous, rolling closer until his breath ghosted over her neck. “That’s not what your hips were saying when they were grinding against my face. Want a repeat, princess? I’ve got all morning.”
Her pulse spiked, and she shoved him back, ignoring the jolt that shot through her at the contact. “Touch me again, and I’ll rip your tongue out and feed it to the rogues you call a pack.”
“Promises, promises,” he teased, unfazed, sitting up fully now. The furs fell away, and—gods damn it—he was naked, all lean muscle and shameless swagger on display. Her eyes betrayed her, flicking down before she could stop them, and he caught it, of course he did. “See? You can’t resist me. Your mouth says no, but your body’s begging for round two.”
“Shut up,” she snarled, lurching to her feet before her stupid, mutinous hormones could agree with him. Her legs wobbled—thanks, exhaustion, and maybe a little of him—but she steadied herself, hands on hips. “I’d rather hump a cactus than let you near me again.”
“Liar,” he said, standing in one fluid motion, not even bothering to cover himself. He stepped closer, towering over her, his grin pure filth. “You’d be climbing me right now if you weren’t so busy pretending you don’t want it. I can still taste you, you know.”
Her breath hitched, and she cursed her body for the shiver that ran down her spine. “You’re disgusting,” she spat, turning her back on him—mostly to hide the flush creeping up her neck. “Put some damn clothes on before I gouge my eyes out.”
He chuckled, and she heard the rustle of fabric—finally—as he pulled on pants, though he stayed shirtless, because of course he did. “Relax, Vanya. I’ll save the encore for later. Right now, you’ve got bigger things to look forward to.” He sauntered past her, brushing her shoulder just enough to make her skin twitched. “Get ready. You’re meeting the Stormwolf Pack today. Officially.”
She spun around, glaring at his back as he leaned against the doorframe, all casual arrogance. “What, like some grand unveiling? ‘Behold, the woman I dragged across the sea’?”
“More like ‘Behold, the woman who came so hard she nearly broke me,’” he shot back, smirking over his shoulder. “They’re gonna love you. Or hate you. Either way, I’m entertained.”
Vanya groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “I hate you.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” he said, winking as he pushed off the frame and strolled out. “Five minutes, princess. Don’t make me come back and strip you down myself.”
The door clicked shut, leaving her alone with her fury and the humiliating truth: her body was still buzzing, replaying every second of yesterday against her will.
She was screwed—figuratively, and maybe literally if Killian had his way. The Stormwolf Pack didn’t stand a chance against her wrath, but Killian? He was a whole different beast, and she was dangerously close to losing this fight.
The door swung open again and in tumbled two Omegas like a gust of wind carrying way too much enthusiasm. Melanie, with her usual dark braids coiled neatly atop her head, and Becca, her freckled face framed by a bouncy short bob, barreled toward her with smiles that could light up a cave.
Vanya braced herself, wondering if she could just will them away with a glare. No such luck.
“Luna!” Becca chirped, practically vibrating as she clasped her hands together. “You’re awake! We’ve been so excited to meet you!”
Vanya sighed, rubbing her temple. “Yeah, I can see that. Lucky me.” She softened the edge in her voice—just a little—because they looked too eager to deserve her full wrath. Yet.
Melanie beamed, hauling in a stack of Vanya’s clothes like it was a sacred offering. “We’re here to help you get ready. You’re our Luna now, and we can’t wait to get you all set for the pack!”
“Great,” Vanya said, forcing a tight smile that probably looked more like a grimace. “I’m not really the ‘doll-up-and-parade’ type, but… thanks, I guess.” She eyed the bundle as Becca darted forward with a pair of boots, holding them out like they were a gift from the gods.
“No problem at all!” Becca said, her bob bouncing as she nodded. “You’ve been through so much—days at sea, then arriving here. We just want you to feel at home.”
Vanya took the boots, her fingers brushing Becca’s with a flicker of something that might’ve been gratitude if she let it linger. “Home’s a stretch, but I’ll take the boots. They’re mine anyway.” Her tone was dry, but she kept the sting out of it—mostly.
Melanie laughed, a warm sound that didn’t grate as much as Vanya expected. She set the clothes on a chair and started sorting through them, pulling out a tunic and pants. “Killian said you’d be a handful, but in a good way. We brought everything we could find of yours. Figured you’d want to look the part when you meet the pack.”
“Killian says a lot of things,” Vanya muttered, snagging the tunic and tugging it on. She glanced at Melanie, then Becca, their faces so bright it was almost contagious. Almost. “You two don’t have to fuss so much. I’m fine stumbling out there as is.”
“Oh, but you’re the Luna!” Becca insisted, handing over a belt with a grin that refused to dim. “The pack’s been waiting for you, and they’re all so excited. You’re kind of a big deal already!”
Vanya buckled the belt, her lips twitching into something like a smirk. “A big deal, huh? That’s new. Usually I’m just a big headache.” She nodded at Becca, a small concession. “You’re sweet, though. Annoyingly so.”
Becca giggled, unfazed, and swapped the boots for a pair of leather bracers she’d pulled from somewhere. Melanie stepped closer, smoothing the tunic’s hem with a care that made Vanya feel briefly, uncomfortably seen. “Everyone’s talking about you,” Melanie said. “The rogues, the humans, the lycans—they can’t wait to meet Killian’s mate.”
“Mate’s a strong word,” Vanya said, slipping into the pants with a shrug. “But fine, I’ll bite. What’s the pack expecting? A speech? A wave? Me not punching Killian in front of them?”
“They just want to see you,” Becca replied, clapping her hands again—okay, that was still irritating. “You’re the future of the Stormwolf Pack. They’ve got all these hopes pinned on you.”
“Hopes?” Vanya raised a brow, lacing up the bracers as she glanced between them. “Like what? Don’t tell me they think I’m here to knit them all scarves.”
Melanie’s eyes sparkled, and she leaned in, her voice dropping to a hushed, excited whisper. “No, it’s bigger than that. They’re saying you and Alpha Killian will—y’know—make things official soon. And when you give birth to a son, he’ll be the one to rule over humans, lycans, and vampires, uniting us all—”
Vanya’s hands stilled on the laces, her head snapping up as Melanie’s words landed. “Hold on. *What*?”