The Silver Wolf (Diana and Talon) novel Chapter 10

'We found mate!' Fenrir snarled, voice feral and triumphant. 'She’s here. I can smell her. Let me out. I want to see mate.'

Talon sucked in a sharp breath, every instinct screaming at him to turn, to search, to claim. His senses flared painfully, dragging him in a dozen directions at once, each one tugging harder than the last.

'No,' Talon snapped inwardly, clamping down hard on the bond before Fenrir could take control. 'Stand down.

Fenrir prowled, furious. 'No. We found mate. That is more important than anything. 'Let me out. Let me see her.'

'We are not in our territory,' Talon reminded him, voice iron-clad despite the storm raging in his veins. 'And have you forgotten why we’re here? We are not here to look for our mate. We’re here to find out who’s been feeding information to the rogues.'

Fenrir growled, pacing viciously. 'Don’t care. Mate comes first. We find her, then we leave. We take her home. We protect her in our territory, where she belongs.'

Talon clenched his jaw as the pull intensified, raw and undeniable, but he forced himself to stay rooted where he was.

'You will not jeopardize this mission,' he warned. 'Not here. Not now.'

Fenrir snarled but did not break free—barely.

Before Talon could push the argument further, approaching footsteps cut through the tension.

Alpha Asher emerged from the pack house steps, his posture open but assessing, his aura brushing against Talon’s like a cautious test of dominance. Beside him stood his Luna.

And the moment Talon’s eyes landed on her, Fenrir slammed against his restraints again.

“Alpha King Talon,” Alpha Asher stopped a few paces away and inclined his head. “Welcome to Crimson Fang Pack. Let me introduce my Luna—Luna Hazel.”

Hazel stepped forward, her smile soft, deliberate, and practiced. The dress she wore clung to her form, far more revealing than tradition ever encouraged for a formal greeting—fabric dipping low, slit high, leaving very little to the imagination.

“Hello, Alpha King,” Hazel said, her voice sweet, almost honeyed. “Welcome to our pack.”

Her eyes lingered a second too long.

Fenrir snarled, confused, restless, his attention yanking violently toward the scent that still called to him from somewhere deeper within the territory—not from her.

Talon kept his expression carefully neutral, bowing his head just enough to remain polite without offering submission. “Thank you for the welcome, Alpha Asher. Luna Hazel.”

Beside him, Enzo shifted.

'Is this Luna for real?' Enzo mind-linked, disbelief thick in his tone.

Talon didn’t look at him, but he could feel Enzo’s irritation rolling off him.

'Is she really flirting with you in front of her Alpha?' Enzo continued.

Talon’s gaze flicked briefly back to Hazel, noting the calculated way she positioned herself, the subtle tilt of her body meant to draw attention. Then he answered coolly through the link. 'An Alpha who allows his Luna to dress like that to greet another male either lacks control… or lacks attachment.'

If they were fated mates, he wouldn’t tolerate it.

'Chosen mates, then,' Enzo concluded.

'Most likely,' Talon agreed.

Fenrir snarled again, impatient. 'She’s not mate. Don’t be distracted. Mate is close. I can feel her.'

Talon straightened fully, his focus sharpening as the weight of realization settled in.

Their mate was here.

Somewhere in Crimson Fang.

And if Fenrir was this close to losing control already, this visit was about to become far more dangerous than Talon had anticipated—not just politically, but personally.

“Let’s go inside so we can discuss the mating ball that we have been preparing for you to allow you to meet all available she-wolves,” Alpha Asher said smoothly, extending a hand toward the grand entrance of the pack house.

For a brief second, Talon almost forgot the real reason Enzo had provided for their visit.

Almost.

The towering stone walls of the pack house loomed behind Asher, banners fluttering lazily in the afternoon wind, each one embroidered with symbols of strength, lineage, and pride. It all screamed preparation. Celebration. Expectation.

Fenrir’s growl vibrated deep within Talon’s chest before the words even formed.

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