Page 30 of Fated to the Alpha Warrior (The Wolf’s Forbidden Mate #1)

Kieran

As soon as the sun is up, Aurora wants to go into the ruins. I’m reluctant to let her after watching the way she swayed on her feet last night, her gaze distant and glazed, but I know there’s no stopping Aurora Blackburn. So I insist at least that she let me go with her, once we’re sure it’s safe.

“This is our mission, Kieran,” she points out with frustration in her voice. “Whether it’s safe or not, we have to do it.”

“Just… let me make sure this isn’t some kind of fae trap. Pack Onyx land isn’t supposed to start for another half mile.” Pulling out my map, I scan our surroundings while she stares me down, impatiently tapping her foot. “I just want to make sure that we aren’t in the wrong place.”

“The wrong place? Like the type of place that makes me feel as if I’m home for the first time in my life? A place where I touch crumbling stone and see my parents for the first time in my life?”

This is going to be a lot easier if I let her lead the way, I’m realizing. “Alright, alright. Just don’t go anywhere I can’t see you, okay? And if I give the alarm because I smell fae magic?—”

“We’ll both get the hell out. Got it.”

With that settled as best as it can be, we hide her bike behind a screen of fallen deadwood, then head into the ruins.

The sun is just beginning to rise, casting long shadows through the empty streets and crumbling buildings.

It’s hard to tell where the pack lands begin and the forest ends—over time, the two have merged so completely that they blend together.

But I can feel the stirring of magic around us, and wonder if the pack lands are waking to the presence of one of their own.

Aurora moves with a purpose, her steps guided by some invisible force I can’t see.

She seems to know where each of the next crumbling bit of wall will be, how to navigate the narrow streets and cracked sidewalks.

I watch her without restraint, the golden hue of her hair gorgeous in the rising sunlight, her mismatched eyes wide with curiosity.

A longing for home goes through me, like an echo of the pull she feels—only I know it’s my wolf’s longing for her that I’m feeling more than anything.

“Can you smell that?” she asks, stopping suddenly in front of a crumbling storefront with broken plate glass windows. “It’s like… baking bread.”

I inhale deeply, but all I can smell is mildew, rot, and traces of old magic. “Nothing but ruins to my nose. What do you see?”

Her eyes go distant, the amber iris golden in the light, her blonde hair once again falling in front of the blue eye.

“Everything is whole again. The signs are painted, the sidewalks are paved, and the roads are covered with foot traffic. It’s…

some kind of fall festival. There are kids with painted faces and carved jack-o’-lanterns on the porches of the houses.

And there—” She points to a pile of rubble covered in growing ivy.

“That was a fountain. There was a bronze statue of a howling wolf in the middle.”

As she speaks, she steps over a gnarly tree branch growing up through cracked pavement, and reaches blindly for a broken column for support. The moment her fingers make contact, she gasps, her body going rigid.

I move closer, watching her eyes glaze over. Reaching out, I carefully put my hands on her arm, reach to catch her in case she falls. Just the brief touch of my fingers to her skin fills me with longing, the smell of lilac and honey washing over me.

My god, she’s perfect.

When she blinks back to awareness, there are tears in her eyes. I swallow a knot in my throat at the sight of them, wishing I could make her pain go away—including the pain that I know I alone caused.

“I heard my mother’s voice,” she says softly. “I remember it now. She was calling my father home for dinner, and I was… I was riding on his shoulder. Do you think the memory was real?”

“You were almost two years old when my father brought you to the orphanage, so I’m sure it was,” I tell her, knowing she needs to hear this right now. “The trauma may have made you forget, but whatever magic connects you to this place could be bringing it all back to the forefront.”

Aurora looks comforted by my words, and I feel a brief sense of gratitude leak through our bond. She straightens, and I reluctantly let go of her arm. It feels like denying myself a piece of my own body to move away from her.

We continue through the ruins, Aurora leading the way as if drawn by an invisible thread.

Each building she touches seems to trigger new memories, not all of them her own.

The land itself gives her many of them—as if it’s been lying in wait for a way to tell its stories.

At the remains of a school building, she remembers the sound of young shifters learning to control their wolves.

Near the remains of a great hall, she can see snatches of council meetings and new year celebrations.

The deeper we go into the remains of Pack Onyx land, the stronger the lingering traces of magic become, even decades later. My nose burns with it—not just the rot and ruin of fae magic, but something older as well. Something that smells like ash wood and ozone.

“Here, this building,” Aurora says, stopping in front of a broad, imposing structure with a foundation still intact and crumbling stonework columns. “This was important. Something happened here.”

I scent the air for a long moment. “The magic is stronger here… and I think we’re in the center of pack lands.”

She approaches the entrance, where stone steps lead up to a pair of weathered wooden doors, one of which has fallen off its top hinge. The moment her fingers brush up against the wood, another memory seems to strike.

“Something happened here right at the end,” she says, her voice tremulous.

“The pack gathered here, and the people, they… they were afraid.” She stumbles back, and this time I do catch her, steadying her with my hands on her shoulders.

Warmth blossoms where my thumbs brush against her bare neck, just above the neckline of her shirt. “I can feel their fear.”

“What were they afraid of?”

“I don’t know. But…” Her brow furrows. “I keep seeing symbols. Chalk on the floor. Burning ash wood. And talismans… talismans of fangs.”

That catches my attention. “Fangs?”

“Yes, the two top canine teeth of a wolf.” She shakes her head in frustration. “I keep seeing them over and over again, worn as jewelry and etched into carvings. Almost like they were important in some way. But I’m not clear why.”

Something tickles at the back of my mind—a story I heard once, quickly dismissed, about the fae fearing certain packs more than others. “Did Gran ever tell you anything about Pack Onyx? I know they fought the fae like Pack Granite.”

She thinks for a moment. “She didn’t say much, just that they were feared, even by other packs.

That they had a special gift that made them dangerous to the fae, but she never said what it was.

I don’t think she knew—the packs that hunted the fae often kept secrets even from each other, to keep them out of their enemies’ hands. ”

We continue exploring, moving into the building and scoping out what remains of the rooms. There’s a wide open meeting hall, and a smaller room that must have been some kind of council chamber. Aurora trails her fingers along the walls as we walk, each touch seeming to spark new memories.

“They came here before the fae invaded. They knew…” she trails off, her voice sad as she says, “They knew that it was the final days. The fae were coming to target Pack Onyx specifically, and all they could do was make a last stand.”

“I wish the other packs had known. Maybe we could’ve come to their aide.”

Cocking her head to the side, Aurora frowns. “I don’t think it was possible. The fae put magic around the pack lands before they invaded. They made sure no messages went in or out.”

I shudder. “The amount of magic it would take to isolate pack lands this big is immense.”

“And it cost the fae dearly. They weakened themselves considerably for the invasion.” Aurora studies the dirt and leaves at her feet. “There was some reason why, something important… venom?”

The word hits me like a physical blow. “Venom?”

But she’s already moving on, drawn to a raised stage at the far end of the chamber. Ancient symbols are carved into the stone, barely visible after years of exposure to the elements. The ceiling overhead is collapsed, letting light and air in.

Kneeling on the dais, Aurora traces the carvings with her fingers, her hands trembling.

“Something to do with a poison… and fangs.” She shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”

“I think I do,” I tell her, pieces clicking into place in my mind. “There was something special about Pack Onyx. It must have been their bite—their fangs were venomous.”

Aurora’s eyes go wide, and I see a memory flicker across her face.

“That’s it! That’s what they’re saying. Pack Onyx wolves had a venom in their fangs that was venomous to the fae.

” She stands up, excitement in her movements.

“That’s why the fae feared them—us. It’s why they were targeted.

” Looking at me with those mismatched eyes wide with hope and fear, she asks, “Do you think… do you think I might have inherited it?”

The size of the question staggers me. If Aurora is truly the last of her kind, then she’s the last Pack Onyx wolf with a bite venomous to the fae. That makes her important, not just to me, but to the survival of all shifters in the fight against the fae.

That’s if she ever learns to shift.

“I think it’s possible,” I tell her, wanting to keep the hope in her eyes alive. “Maybe it also explains why you’ve taken so long to shift. If your wolf form has a venomous bite, then?—”

“The fae may have suppressed it somehow with their magic.” I can feel through our bond, broken as it is, how big the implication of this discovery is to her. Emotions are swirling through her at a mile a minute. “Maybe if we do more investigation we can find out what happened. But Aurora…”

“Don’t get my hopes up.” She gives me a wan smile. “Don’t worry, I know by now. I’ve had dozens if not hundreds of moments where I thought my wolf was going to come and I’d finally be able to shift. I won’t make that mistake again.”

My heart hurts for her, but I keep it to myself.

We spend the rest of the day exploring this part of the ruins, looking for more signs of what happened to Pack Onyx.

There are no remains here, part of what adds to the mystery of the disappearance of the pack.

The theory for a long time has been that the fae took the remaining shifters with them, but now I wonder if they destroyed them so the secret to their venomous bite would never get out.

Setting up camp in the middle of the abandoned great hall, we heat up the food we got from Jacen’s storage and discuss various theories. If what we’ve seen so far is right, the fae have returned now for a reason.

“Maybe the madness is something that my people would’ve known about, if they were still around,” Aurora theorizes.

“I haven’t been able to cure anyone since Gage, but maybe I’m missing something.

The secret to curing the madness could be in my blood, along with the venomous bite and the magic in these lands. ”

We work through everything we know about the madness: how it starts, how it spreads, and what it does to the shifters who go mad. It weakens packs so that the fae can attack, as we saw at Pack Quartz. And it turns shifter against shifter.

“The fae are fighting us like they’re afraid of a head-on battle,” I point out to her. “They’re weakening us in advance and running as soon as they face us. Maybe they have a reason to avoid a full-on assault.”

“They could still be weak from taking on Pack Onyx, even after all those years.” Looking around, she muses, “It would’ve taken a shitload of magic to isolate all these lands, like you said. And there’s no telling how many lives they lost in the battle.”

The fire burns low, and still we keep talking, discussing theories and knowledge we’ve gathered so far. It feels as if we’re on the verge of figuring out the fae entirely—and once we do, we can bring that knowledge back home to my father.

For what purpose, though, I wonder? Ruefully, I admit to Aurora, “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be good enough. My father… he has such specific ideas about what makes a strong alpha. And I’m not sure I’ll ever be that person.”

Aurora’s expression softens. “What do you mean?”

“He thinks strength means never showing weakness, never messing up or admitting doubt. But me… I don’t know if I can do it. And I have no idea how to lead a pack if I can’t be honest with them, can’t admit when I’ve messed up or don’t know what to do next.”

“That’s not what strength is,” she says quietly. “Being vulnerable and honest takes strength. More strength than pretending.”

I look at her then, really look at her. The firelight catches in her ash blonde hair and turns it to molten gold. Her mismatched eyes see right through me, past all my carefully constructed walls. She’s the strongest person I know, and that’s one of the reasons why I love her.

Leaning in, I feel the mate bond thrum between us, urging us closer. Her lips part slightly, and my gaze falls to them. She smells so sweet and floral, so feminine and delicate, although I know without a doubt that she’s also incredibly strong.

“Kieran…”

I part my lips, my heart racing. This is it—this is the moment. I’m going to do it, going to?—

A sudden noise from outside the room has us both jumping to our feet. We move to the door together in perfect sync, Aurora drawing two daggers and handing me one. My heart races for an entirely different reason as we face the darkness together.

A goat ambles into view, chewing contentedly on a long piece of straw, ambling past the crumbling stonework down the cracked sidewalk.

The tension breaks. Aurora laughs, the sound ringing like a bell. I turn to her and grin, hyper aware of how close we are.

And I remember that I’m supposed to be staying away from her. Worse, I remember why.

So I back off, clearing my throat and turning away, putting some distance between us. There’s hurt in her eyes as I do, but I ignore it. I even ignore the twist of pain from the mate bond, a pain I’m used to by now.

I have to hold the line, even when it seems so easy to give in.

Aurora Blackburn will never be my mate.