Page 63 of Unveiled

Adrian nodded once. Then they undressed, shifted, and ran. The world blurred.

Connor’s bones re-formed with a familiar crack and surge, his human breath dissolving into the deeper, stronger rhythm of the wolf. His senses sharpened. Smell first, then sound, then the shimmering edges of movement around him. His coat spilled over him like shadow made flesh, thick dark fur catching what little moonlight filtered through the trees.

Beside him, Adrian’s change was quicker, lighter. A fluid ripple of motion that was almost elegant. Where Connor’s shift felt like a tectonic plate rolling into place, Adrian’s was a clean snap of instinct, seamless and bright.

Adrian’s wolf landed on all fours with a soft thud. Slender. Sleek. Dark as night except for streaks of pale grey brushing the ridge of his spine. His eyes were amber-gold and startling against the gloom. He looked fast. He looked fierce. He looked…captivating.

Connor knew he was everything Adrian wasn’t. Broad-shouldered even in wolf form, massive paws built for impact, fur thick and roughened by Highland wind. A Veilwarden’s wolf, whether or not he wanted the title. When they stood side by side, they were mismatched and perfectly matched all at once, two halves of a legend they hadn’t asked to be part of.

The moment their paws hit the earth in unison, something happened. Connor felt a thrum, a pulse, a tug that was cleaner, and unmistakably stronger. It rippled beneath his ribs like an invisible tether snapping into alignment.

Adrian froze mid-stride, his ears flicking. Connor did too, breath steaming from his muzzle. The bond pulsed again. Not a pull this time, but a warning. Together. Stay together.

Connor snarled softly, not at Adrian but at the invisible force threading through them. Adrian’s wolf answered with a low, resonant sound. Not fear, not defiance, but acknowledgment. They were linked. They were watched. They were being shaped.

They took off through the trees.

Connor’s wolf cut a path with raw power, each stride kicking up soil. Adrian followed not behind but beside Connor, a flash of dark fur weaving between branches, keeping pace without effort. Two wolves, two rhythms, but it felt like one pulse was guiding both of them. The forest parted, or perhaps they forced it to.

The night wind carried scents Connor had no words for: smoke, magic, and something cold from beyond the Veil. He surged ahead, his muscles rippling. Adrian kept his flank aligned with Connor’s without looking, as though he’d always known how. Not dominance, not submission, but instinct. A new instinct: valour.

And as they ran deeper into the dark, the ground trembled faintly beneath their paws, as if something far beneath the earth recognised them and was waking.

The woods swallowed them quickly. The trees loomed tall and ancient, their branches webbed overhead like skeletal fingers. The moonlight barely pierced the dense canopy. The air was colder here.

Connor growled. We need to change back. I think we’re here.

He sensed Adrian’s agreement, and within minutes both men were back in human form. Both naked.

Shit, I didn’t think this through.

Connor cleared his throat. “So, no clothes. This might prove a little embarrassing when we find Irial.”

Adrian waved a hand. “Pah. I’m sure she’s seen a naked man before.” He seemed completely unfazed by his lack of clothing. Connor wasn’t as comfortable.

Then it happened. A pulse. Not from the earth, not from the air. But between them.

Adrian shot upright, Connor’s hand pressed to his shoulder. “Did you feel that?”

Connor didn’t answer, because the mark along Adrian’s collarbone had ignited. At the same moment, a faint shimmer curled over Connor’s rib cage, where no mark had been before, but where the bond always tugged the hardest. On his chest, a sigil appeared, bright and intricate. Connor drew a shallow breath as the sigil throbbed, and a sharp pain shot through his body.

I’m being marked, like Adrian.

The light spread up and outward around them both. A thin veil of magic wrapped their skin like warm fog. Connor sucked in a breath as energy coiled around him: protective and insistent. Adrian reached out, his fingers brushing the glowing air between them.

The glow pulsed once, and clothes formed around them.

But they weren’t dressed in their clothing. Adrian wore loose dark trousers, a deep green long-sleeved shirt, and a swirling grey cloak around his shoulders. On his feet was a pair of stylish riding boots. Around his waist, a belt held a slim, silver knife.

Connor wore a pair of Highland wool trews in the tartan of his clan, green, black, and red, with a belted white shirt and an arisaid tartan wrap stretched across his back. His feet were wrapped in a pair of sturdy mid-calf leather boots. He had a dirk, about fourteen inches long, on his left hip. It looked suspiciously like the one he’d inherited from his father upon his death.

Simple. Functional. Unique.

All of it was woven from energy that solidified into fabric as the light faded.

Connor looked down in stunned silence. “What the fuck?”

Adrian exhaled shakily. “It dressed us and armed us.”