Book 8: Nomads

Evander

I have two options. 

Option one: Run like hell. Find the nearest village where I’m able to finally mind-link with someone, anyone, from King Ryatt’s forces and find a way to get Kenna home so I can run deeper into the mountains and disappear forever. 

Or option two: Turn around and claim her as mate, like the Goddess intended, forever shackling her to a murderous, violent man who is grossly unable to give her everything she deserves. 

I keep running–sprinting–my paws overturning raw earth as I tear through the forest and back up into the mountains until I’m past the tree line and far enough from Tiscoln that I can’t feel the overwhelming pull toward her anymore. 

In the distance, I can just see the faint lights of Tiscoln shimmering in a shallow valley, nothing more than a muted glow in a thick crop of trees. 

I skid to a stop on the peak of a lower mountain, my paws sliding over late summer snow a