Read the First Three Chapters

Chapter 1

Shadows Entwined

It was a beautiful night in the living wild. The moon was full, a hazy white, almost cream-colored. The air was cool and fresh. Everything appeared at ease. Insects sang their low-hum songs that penetrated every part of the forest below.

Despite the sense of peace and calm, Armon Thorn sat in the bough of a massive oak, watching the forest floor for movement. His ears twitched at a sound far below. He smelled it before he saw it: a very large Direboar.

Armon raced down the tree, half-shifted, his claws grabbing purchase in the bark. He leapt from the tree, shifting fully into his panther form in mid-flight, landing on the back of the massive Direboar and raking his claws along both sides of the beast’s neck. Opening wide channels of free-flowing blood, he leapt off the Direboar just in time to avoid the beast’s long tusks.

He circled the beast slowly, letting his former attack do its work. Growling at the Direboar, knowing the beast’s heart would be pumping harder, he finished the job. His sleek fur glowed black in the moonlight. He was pleased with this kill, knowing it would provide meat for the Pride—his father’s old Pride, now his Pride—when he heard the screams.

Not far away, the screams of children cut across the night air. Refugee humans were near the river ford. Armon ran through the forest as fast as his paws would carry him. His sleek black coat was a blur on the forest floor as he moved with unbridled speed. He broke past the last of the trees, which gave way to scrubby growth, and surveyed the scene. Six bandits, blades drawn, were attacking a single woman.

She was holding her own, a guardian of the forest, green light flashing from her staff to form a shield between herself and the bandits. A human mother with two children cowered behind her. The guardian followed Armon’s movement as he leapt over her to the right, landing on the first bandit and ripping a chunk of flesh from his throat. He quickly killed the second, third, and fourth in the same manner. His claws ran deep, shredding them, while his mouth found their throats. The bandits couldn’t match his speed, and the remaining two took off in a full run, dropping their weapons. Armon didn’t pursue.

He shifted back into human form, covering his privates with his hands. He looked squarely at the guardian. Suddenly, he felt overcome by a sensation in his chest, a strange scraping feeling, not quite physical—an attraction to this guardian. He looked deeper into her eyes as he took a step forward.

“You…” she said, her hand on her staff, which shimmered with a vibrant green light that flickered like living energy. “You are Armon Thorn, the Blackshade panther.” Her voice was steady despite the battle. “Thank you for your help. I was holding my own against them, but still, it’s…”

“Ah, umm, I apologize… I remember your last name, Silverwood, forest guardian—first name, hmm,” he asked, still staring into her moss-green eyes.

“Oh, sorry. My name is Corivel, Corivel Silverwood.” She stepped back as the human mother and her children quickly returned to their tent near the river.

“Corivel, such a beautiful name for such a beautiful woman. I’m glad I could assist.” Her hair was black and braided, her body properly proportioned, and mutual admiration shone in her eyes as a small smile broke across her face.

“The last time I saw you was many years back. You were an acolyte then. You’ve changed, grown up nicely.” His heartbeat quickened. “Very nicely indeed.” He wondered if her werecat was just as beautiful.

Without thinking, he dropped his hands, exposing his growing attraction to her. Her eyes immediately traveled down his body. She stepped back, licking her lips as her face turned pink. “Oh my…” Her eyes moved back to his.

“I apologize,” he said quickly, covering himself again. “I’m feeling an unusually strong attraction to you, Corivel.”

“Yes, same here. Like a pull between us. I can feel what you’re feeling,” she said, nearly panting as she tried to hold herself together.

“It’s called something… something I remember from my guardian training. It’s called a resonance bond. According to legend, the forest picks a pair that will best serve the forest,” she explained.

“It’s a rare thing? I’ve never heard of the bond before, but I can definitely feel it,” he replied.

“I know I’ve never felt so… hungry for someone like this. It’s very overwhelming, and I know it’s going to be difficult to control.” She smiled and looked up at the moon.

Clouds drifted over the moon. Armon shifted and ran silently into the forest, leaving Corivel standing there as quickly as he’d come. He ran back to the Direboar kill, threw it over his shoulders, and headed back toward the canopy of his home, high in the trees of the Thorn Pride.

Corivel gave the surrounding area at the river ford one final check before walking home, smiling to herself and thinking only of Armon Thorn. “We’re going to be a mess, Armon Thorn,” she whispered, as if he could hear her.

Chapter 2

Roots of the Pride

The Thorn Pride was a network of suspended beams, rope bridges, and platforms that spanned between the oldest, tallest trees in the Grove. Thatched roofs covered a small part of each platform to provide protection from the elements.

Armon was lying down, looking up at the stars through the canopy of leaves above him. The wind blew through those leaves, seeming to whisper Corivel’s name as he recalled their earlier encounter. Her face, eyes, and body. The way she spoke, husky, with a hint of something very seductive and alluring.

He tried to push the bond away, but it remained in his heart despite every attempt. It wasn’t painful. It felt completely natural, but it was drawing him closer to her. To claim her as his own, his mate. Sleep never came. He lay like that until the first light of morning spilled through the leaf canopy.

He heard footsteps on the vine bridge below. Mira climbed onto his platform, her silver-streaked hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes, one pale blue and one green, caught his gaze, and she stood there for a while, not speaking. Her arms were crossed, and her look held motherly concern and expectation.

“You look exhausted, like you’ve been in a fight, and you smell like a mix of Direboar with a twist of human blood. What have you been up to? Did you get any sleep last night?” she asked.

Armon shrugged. “I killed a Direboar and some bandits at the river ford,” he replied, forcing his usual grin.

“Is that all? I’ve got a feeling you’re not telling me the whole truth. The river ford refugee camp is under the protection of Corivel Silverwood.” She continued, “You met her.” It was not a question.

“I met her. She was holding her own nicely. I just gave her some help.” He left it at that.

“Don’t make me pry it out of you, Armon. Something else happened, didn’t it? You already know that I know the truth, so spill it.” She waited, her foot tapping.

Armon was never good at hiding things from his mom, so he decided to come clean. “Well, seems Corivel and I have something called a resonance bond. Corivel explained it to me. It’s a pull toward each other…”

Mira cut him off. “I know what it is. You need to find her, and you two work this out together. This doesn’t give second chances, son.”

“Please go slow with her and don’t be an idiot like your father was. He ran ahead during a battle, glory-seeking, and got himself killed by the wolves.” Her finger shook as she pointed it in Armon’s face, and her eyes started to water. She realized where her hand was and dropped it. Armon’s jaw tightened, but he kept quiet.

She waited. “Speaking of wolves, the Blightfang Pack has been seen closer than they should be to our eastern border. I’ve sent more patrols because that area is thin. I want you spending more time learning to run our Pride. Pay attention to the details, Armon. It’s time for you to start being more responsible.” With that, Mira turned and headed back down to the lower platforms.

Armon stayed on his platform for a while, thinking about what his mom had just said. The sun was clearing the tops of the trees. The Pride was already getting busy. Kits chased each other across the connecting rope bridges. Someone was cooking breakfast on a brazier below. He made his way down to the lower platforms and saw his friend. Jax came over, russet hair still messy from sleep. He was tall for a werecat and had an easy stride.

“So, what have you been up to?” Jax asked.

“Well, I killed a Direboar last night,” Armon replied.

“Did you save any of the meat for the rest of us, or did you eat it all out of spite?” Jax grinned.

Armon chuckled. “Of course, it’s at the butcher. Get you some!”

“Thanks for that. Mira has been tightening the patrols on the eastern territory. Wolves are getting bold there. You plan on helping?” Jax replied, his grin gone now.

“I’ll be there when and if I’m needed,” Armon said.

“You’re right, just checking. I’ll see you soon. Got to run.” With that, Jax took off toward the butcher shop.

Armon felt the bond pulling and decided to head back to the river ford, not far southeast from where he was. As he approached, he felt a harder pull. He half-shifted and ran along the path as fast as he could. When he arrived, he found a group of bandits—ten, more than the night before. Corivel was there, her staff firmly planted. Green light shielding. Behind her, a human woman around Corivel’s age tended to injured refugees.

Armon attacked the bandits with the same skill and deadly accuracy as the night before. The remaining bandits ran and didn’t look back. He shifted back to human form, wiping the blood from his hands and arms on a bandit’s tunic.

Corivel looked tired, but she was intact. “You came to my rescue.” She managed a smile.

“I wasn’t that far away, and this bond we have pulled like a rope.” He smiled back.

“Armon, this is my understudy, Iara Fenn. Iara, this is Armon Thorn. He is the one I was telling you about.” She paused. “My bonded mate, chosen by this forest.”

“Well, it seems so. We’re still working through all this slowly.” Armon’s throat tightened at the word mate. His thoughts betrayed him as Corivel caught him staring at her breasts over her tunic.

“Ahem…” Corivel cleared her throat and smiled before beginning again. “Iara has been researching the Blackshade panther lineages and the ancient resonance bonds,” she explained.

Iara offered a quick, slightly awkward nod. She was smaller than Corivel, petite, with blue eyes and strawberry-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wasn’t particularly beautiful, but she had determination to make up for what she lacked in looks.

“Yes, I have been researching and taking notes on the two of you, based on what Corivel has told me and what I’ve observed today,” she continued. “From what I’ve read about other bonded couples, fighting the bond seems to do more harm than good. Also, you appear to be faster than any recorded Blackshade panther.”

“Lots of practice,” Armon offered. “Back to the resonance bond. What exactly chooses the mates?” he asked.

“According to the earliest record in the guardian archives, the first resonance bond originated from the Heartroot itself.” Iara flipped to a page near the back of her notebook. “I copied this down word for word—they don’t let anyone carry the originals out of the archive.” She cleared her throat. “From the Chronicle of the First Root,” and she read:

The Heartroot’s age is unknown, an ash tree whose span a dozen joined hands could encircle. Its roots run beneath all the living green. Its root channels carry its resonance pulse into every corner of the forest. Where the marker stones hum at dusk, know that the Heartroot’s roots run beneath them. From this resonance pulse, it is said, the first bond was drawn, the tree itself choosing the pair best suited to serve the forest. No record exists, in all the ages kept, of the bonded pair it chooses being a mistake.

Iara closed the notebook. “Furthermore,” she added, “the tree only picks couples that will benefit the forest through their union.”

“This is why we need to talk, Armon. I mean, really talk and work this out between us. Like it or not, this is what we’ve been given.” Corivel looked into his eyes, searching for understanding.

“I know. I’ll find you. We will talk. I need to think about this.” With that, he headed back to the Deep Grove platforms.

Chapter 3

Whispers of the Wild

Armon lasted a full day before he felt like he was losing his mind. He couldn’t resist the bond. It pulled at his heart like a steady wind through rustling leaves. He denied the feeling, keeping himself busy, though even that didn’t help. He decided to return to her and talk it through. Maybe some sense could be made of this. He felt her through the bond: her body, her pouty lips, her husky, sultry voice. He had to be near her, at the very least.

He left the platforms, following the pull of the bond. By late afternoon, he found her near the outer markers of the Deep Grove. She sat by a small waterfall. Small white flowers dotted the ground among deep green moss.

“You came back,” she said before he announced himself.

“Seems I didn’t have much say in it,” he said dryly.

“Well, you can leave if you like…” she snapped back, the frown evident on her face.

“I’m here to talk with you, as you requested. I’m not leaving,” he said, backing down.

She smiled at that. “I can feel how you really feel through our bond. I want you to be honest with me. That seems to be the first step.” She slipped her hand into his and interlaced their fingers.

His reaction to her touch was instant. He sent his feelings for her through the bond, all of them, even the ones he had hidden from her. The wanting, the need, the fear, the uncertainty. She reciprocated, sending hers back to him. Her feelings were lighter, not as raw. Her desire for him above all, her fear of him rejecting her, everything.

They sat together for a long time, neither one speaking. Just enjoying their sharing. Armon leaned in and kissed her, slow and unhurried. It was almost too much for each of them to bear, the pure bliss of the moment flowing back and forth between them through the bond.

“I didn’t know… it could be like this,” Armon said, breaking the silence that had hung in the air between them.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I understand now. We need to take this slow,” she replied.

“That’s not going to be easy. You’re so irresistible, so beautiful inside and out,” Armon replied, his eyes dilated with lust.

“Slow, for me…? I want you too, so much. You can feel that. The Blightfang Pack is moving against us now. Kroven has been sending these bandits to attack and test our defenses, so he doesn’t waste his wolves. You’ve seen him. He’s hideous, unnaturally oversized for a werewolf, with a scarred jaw and everything else. Right now, we have the bond. That gives us an edge in any fight if we fight together.” Corivel looked deeply into his eyes.

Armon was silent for a long time. He listened to the water falling over the waterfall. From above, in a large tree, a bird sang. He recalled the story his mother had told him about his father running ahead of her and the rest of the Pride.

“I’ll help you, of course. I won’t leave your side. The rest is harder. I know how you feel, too. We take it slow and use control. But we don’t wait forever,” Armon said, tilting her chin up with one finger. He kissed her again, this time slower, with more control.

Iara walked up to them, breaking the moment. Pen and notebook in hand, she wrote down everything.

“Do you have to do that now?” Armon asked, a bit irritated.

“For the record, you two are the sweetest couple. Someone has to record the moment,” she said, glaring back at Armon.

Corivel laughed at this exchange. “You can’t deny she’s right,” she said, still smiling.

The pressure of the bond eased between them. They felt it settle.

Armon didn’t trust the bond yet. He also didn’t trust himself to walk away.

“It is what it is. Slow, then. We take it slow,” Armon replied.