To Rule the Alpha's Heart

28. A Challenger

EINARR FJERSTÄD

Einarr jolted upright when he heard his mate's cry, ready to kill whatever dared to lay a hand on the female.

With wide, panicked eyes, he scanned every shadow in their tent but found no immediate foe. A soft, relieved sigh escaped his lips before he turned his attention to Calla, who thrashed on the furs beside him. Sweat plastered her white-blonde hair to her brow as she struggled against an invisible foe in her dreams. A nightmare.

Einarr took a deep breath to slow his rapid heartbeat and inched closer to Calla's body, brushing a strand of damp hair out of her face. "Maraname," he soothed, stroking another lock away from her twisted features.

"Calla," he murmured, a bit louder this time, his voice carrying gentle command. Imploring her to awaken and rejoin him in the world of the living and conscious.

He saw the moment that the baritone of his voice reached her. The harsh lines of Calla's brow immediately softened, and her chapped, pink lips parted in response. Einarr's chest swelled at the sight, and he murmured, "Yes, come back to me, drekhijar."

Finally, Calla's eyelids fluttered open, and a pair of sapphire blue eyes blinked back at him. "Einarr?" she whispered, hoarse.

"I am here." He stroked her damp hairline again.

Calla's chest rapidly rose and fell with every breath she pulled into her lungs, as if she'd been on the verge of suffocating in her dream. Einarr expected his mate's panic to subside, but her orbs only widened, tears glossing their surface. He frowned, "Calla?"

"Someone is coming," she rasped, the words vacant and detached. Her body trembled as she pushed herself upright, forcing Einarr to shift away from her. Calla's gaze frantically scanned the tent before returning to meet him.

"Einarr," she repeated, more lucid. "Someone is coming. An intruder. We have to go, we have to stop–"

Einarr frowned, his own eyes widening in alarm at Calla's strange rambling. What could have happened in her dream to impact her so much?

"Marana," he tried again, reaching out in an attempt to pull her small body against his chest.

But Calla scrambled away and pushed onto her feet before dashing toward their tent's entrance. Einarr climbed off of the furs to follow her, prepared to haul her back onto their makeshift bed and hold her until she calmed. Instead of dashing out into the night, however, Calla paused in the tent flaps, peering up at the sky like only the moon could remedy her fears. Her shoulders sagged in momentary relief.

Einarr poked his own head outside of the tent and looked up. The moon floated high above, not yet at its apex in the sky.

Calla rested her hand against Einarr's chest, and every nerve-ending in his body focused on her touch. He turned back to his mate and found her already looking at him with urgent eyes. "We still have time. Einarr, you must rouse the pack."

"You dreamt this, drekhijar," he tried, clasping both hands around Calla's thin digits.

Calla shook her head and held his gaze, unwavering and with conviction. "No. No, I saw it. It was a vision. A-a gift from the Moon Goddess to... to warn us. Please. They are coming from the plains."

Despite the slight shake in Calla's voice, she did not shrink beneath Einarr's gaze.

She truly believed that she saw a vision of the future, he realized and blinked. Of course, on the night of their Mating Feast, she told the Alpha King of her powers. She'd claimed that she was a Seer. At the time, Einarr didn't know what that meant. He half-assumed that she'd conjured the story in a final act of desperation to safeguard herself from King Rangvald's desire. She never mentioned it again after that night. But now, if her warning held true...