Chapter 4: Claws in the Nest

The truck's engine growled down the last stretch of private road to the Drummond compound, tires crunching gravel. My hand stayed locked in Garrett's, our palms slick with sweat, but neither of us let go. The bond pulsed between us, that deep ache flaring hotter with every bump closer to his territory. Six days until the full moon. My wolf—fully awake now after years of suppression—pushed against my ribs like it wanted out yesterday.

Garrett glanced over, those icy blue eyes softening. His thumb traced slow circles on my skin, calluses catching in a way that shot straight to my cock. I hated how much I wanted it. My wolf practically rolled over for the contact, flashing images of tangled limbs and open mouths.

"You're burning up," he said, that Nordic lilt thickening at the edges. "Bond's getting impatient. If we don't settle this soon—"

"I know the stakes," I cut in, sharper than I meant. My free hand twitched toward my wrist out of habit, even though I wore one of his shirts that still carried his scent. The wolf inside snarled at the denial, sending a fresh spike of heat down my spine. I shifted in the seat, jaw tight.

He squeezed my hand once, then released it to downshift as we rolled through the gates. Magnus waited in the courtyard, arms crossed, that silver ring on his thumb flashing in the late afternoon light. His face said this was a terrible idea. Garrett parked, climbed out, and circled to my side before I could manage the door myself.

"Inside," Garrett told his brother, voice brooking zero argument. "We'll talk later. Right now he needs the nest."

Magnus's lip curled. "The nest. For him. Brother, you're losing your damn mind. Packs are whispering. Council's breathing down our necks and you're playing house with a Quintero."

I stepped down on legs that felt like they'd been through a boardroom all-nighter. The world tilted. Heat ground through my bones, making my teeth clack. Garrett's arm slid around my waist instantly, pulling me against his solid side. His scent wrapped me up—pine and musk and safety I didn't want to need.

"Not now, Magnus," Garrett growled. The rumble vibrated from his chest into mine. My wolf answered with a soft whine that slipped out before I could clamp it down. Heat flooded my face. Perfect. Whimpering like a pup in front of the enemy beta.

Magnus's eyes narrowed, tracking how I leaned into his brother. Something ugly crossed his face before he spun on his heel. "Don't say I didn't warn you when this blows up."

Garrett ignored him. He guided me through the heavy oak doors, past the hallway lined with those antique knives that gleamed like threats, and into his private quarters. The nest sat in the corner—a depression lined with blankets and furs, still rumpled and smelling like us from before. My mouth watered at the scent.

The door clicked shut. Garrett eased me onto the edge, his hands careful as he worked the buttons of my borrowed shirt. "Breathe. Your body's adjusting. The suppression's breaking for good now that the bond's this strong."

I wanted to snap that nothing about his family had ever been gentle with wolves like me. But another wave hit, centering low in my gut. I looked down and saw my nails darkening, sharpening at the edges. Not a full shift—my wolf had awakened weeks ago—but this felt like the final lock snapping open. A low sound built in my chest.

"Fuck. Garrett—"

"I'm here." He kicked off his boots and climbed in behind me, pulling my back to his chest. His arms banded around my middle, one big hand splaying over my sternum. "Let it settle. Fighting it makes the heat worse. Trust me."

Trust. The word sat like a bad acquisition deal in my mouth. I'd built an empire on contracts and escape clauses. Now the universe wanted me to bet everything on the alpha raised to wipe out my bloodline. My spine bowed with the next cramp. Slick leaked down my thigh, unmistakable this time. The wet heat of it made my stomach twist with embarrassment—I could feel my cheeks burn as I tried to clench against it.

Garrett's breath ghosted my ear. "That's it. Good." His hand slid lower, palming the bulge in my slacks without hesitation. The touch cut through the ache like a takeover bid I couldn't refuse. I bucked into it, a broken sound tearing free.

The room felt too small. Too hot. My skin itched like it was trying to split. Patchy fur prickled along my arms then faded. I thrashed, half-convinced I was coming apart, and Garrett held tighter, murmuring old words in that thick accent—folk song fragments that sounded like pack oaths.

One of his hands worked my zipper down, freeing my cock. It sprang out heavy and leaking. The cool air drew another whimper from me. I was the guy who closed million-dollar deals reduced to this: grinding against the enemy's palm while my body sold me out completely.

"Look at you," Garrett breathed, voice rough. "So hard for me already. Your wolf knows this is where it belongs." He wrapped those long fingers around me and stroked once, slow and sure. Pleasure spiked sharp enough to make my vision spark. "Mine to ease. Mine to claim when you're ready."

I tried to form words—something about risk assessments or merger terms—but it came out a guttural moan as he twisted his wrist just right. Precome slicked his palm, the sound obscene. My claws—still half there—dug into the furs, tearing holes I'd probably have to explain later.

Garrett shifted us, laying me back against the piled blankets while he knelt between my spread thighs. His eyes had gone gold-rimmed, that icy blue fighting the wolf. The sight should have sent me running for a boardroom. Instead my hips rolled up, chasing his touch like I was in heat. Which I absolutely was.

"Please," I heard myself say. The word cracked something open. I'd spent years building walls so no one could chain me. Now I was handing the keys to a Drummond alpha on a silver platter. My hands fisted in the blankets, the fabric bunching tight as another pulse of slick leaked out of me.

He leaned down, sandy hair falling over his forehead, the scar through his eyebrow stark. For a second he looked almost unsure—his ruthless alpha mask slipping to show the man who'd held me through that panic attack in the truck. Then his mouth was on me, hot and wet and no teasing. He took me deep in one smooth motion until I bumped the back of his throat.

The sound he made vibrated straight through me. My back arched clean off the furs. "Garrett—fuck—" My hands flew to his hair, claws catching in the longer strands on top. I didn't know if I wanted to pull him off or hold him there forever.

He sucked harder, cheeks hollowing, one hand working the base while the other pushed my thighs wider. Slick pulsed out of me in embarrassing waves, soaking the blankets under my ass. The bond flared brighter, feeding me flashes of forest and moonlight and old blood. Garrett's horror brushed against my mind like a hand in the dark—his primal need mixing with sudden doubt.

The vision hit harder then. Not a clean history lesson. Just fragments. Two figures in a moonlit clearing—Drummond features on one, Quintero sharpness on the other. Mouths desperate, hands clutching. Love, real and stupid. Then a silver blade flashing between them. Angles wrong. Blood on leaves. Elena's ledger and Garrett's family stories tangled together in my head, showing the same rot from opposite sides. A jealous mate killed, a cover-up that rewrote generations of war. Power stolen and painted as destiny.

I felt Garrett's consciousness slam against mine, his wolf recoiling at the betrayal layered on betrayal. This wasn't the clean feud either pack taught. This was the root of the poison, and we were the latest branches ready to snap.

The scene stuttered and froze on that final moment: silver edge glinting, love twisting into shock. Pain exploded through my body as the vision tore away. I came back to myself with a guttural cry, back arching so hard something popped. Garrett's mouth stayed on me, working me through the orgasm with focused hunger. My cock pulsed on his tongue, spilling in hot bursts that he swallowed with a low rumble.

When he finally pulled off, his lips were shiny, eyes wild. The worst of the heat had settled. I felt different—stronger, the wolf fully settled into my bones like it had been waiting for this exact mess. Garrett crawled up my body, kissing sweat from my collarbone, my throat, the corner of my mouth. His own cock pressed heavy against my hip, knot swollen and demanding.

"I saw it," he whispered against my jaw, voice cracking with that lilt. "The clearing. The blade. It wasn't what they told us. None of it. By the old oaths, Russell... this changes everything."

I turned my face away, throat tight. The aftershocks still rippled through me, mixing with a sick drop in my stomach that made my hands shake against his shoulders. My thighs were a sticky mess of come and slick, the scent of sex and shift thick enough to taste. The wolf inside stretched, content in a way that made my human brain want to file for divorce from reality.

Magnus's scent hit me then—faint but sharp, just outside the door. The beta had been listening. The realization sent heat crawling up my neck again. How much had he heard? Enough to push him closer to the edge, probably. Enough to make the next pack meeting a bloodbath.

I pushed at Garrett's chest, weak but clear. "Don't mark me. Not yet. I can't do this if that's our history—one of us with a knife in the other's back."

He stilled, muscles locked tight. The possessive alpha in him clearly warred with the patience he'd shown me since the truck. His knot throbbed against my skin, but he didn't push. Not physically.

"Russell—"

"No." I scrambled back, legs tangling in the ruined furs. Come and slick smeared across my thighs as I moved. The bathroom door looked like the only safe exit. I bolted for it on unsteady legs and slammed it behind me.

The mirror showed a stranger—eyes too gold, hair wild, fresh bite marks blooming on my throat that I didn't remember getting. My hands shook as I cranked the tap, splashing cold water on my face until it stung. The wolf stared back, satisfied and ancient and completely uninterested in my spreadsheets and escape plans.

From the bedroom, Garrett's voice carried through the wood. "We can't run from this forever. The moon's coming. And whatever that vision meant, it doesn't change what you are to me."

I gripped the sink until my knuckles whitened. The new strength in my fingers sent a hairline crack through the porcelain. Blood from a split lip—mine, from biting back another sound—tasted like iron and bad decisions on my tongue.

"If that's our destiny," I whispered to my reflection, voice cracking, "which one of us ends up holding the knife?"

The question hung there in the steamy air. Outside, Magnus's footsteps retreated down the hall, heavy with purpose. The full moon loomed closer, and with it choices that would either bind us tighter or burn both packs to the ground.

My wolf howled softly inside my chest, already mourning what we might lose. Or maybe celebrating what we'd finally become. I couldn't tell anymore. The bond pulsed once, sharp and insistent, as if to say: soon.