Page 40 of Fated to the Alpha Warrior (The Wolf’s Forbidden Mate #1)
Aurora
The pain in my chest is unbearable as I ride my bike away from Kieran, away from the campsite where we were finally together, each stretch of mile between us like a thousand daggers through my heart.
Twice now, he’s rejected me. Twice, he’s made sure I knew that I’m not enough.
My fated mate. What a joke.
Dana’s words from what feels like an eternity ago echo through my mind: “There’s this coven out east, not far from where you were born, actually. They say they’ve found a way to break a shifter’s mate bond.”
The memory hits me like a physical blow, making me swerve nearly off the road. Heart racing, I straighten out. East. That’s the way I’m headed now, on the northern route despite Kieran’s fussing. Towards Pack Diamond, who need to be warned about the fae.
But the thought of him being there, and the two of us continuing on this mission, pretending like nothing happened, like he didn’t just take my virginity then throw me away… it’s too much to bear.
My body still aches from last night in the best possible way, but the pain in my chest is the worst it’s ever been.
Each beat of my heart feels sluggish, as if it’s trying to push frozen water through my veins.
The rejected bond stabs and slashes instead of merely aching, no longer just broken but shattered, jagged pieces of it tearing me apart from the inside.
I can still feel his hands on my skin. His mouth on my neck…
and other places. The way he filled me so completely, like we were made for each other.
How my body stretched and expanded to let him in.
For one perfect moment the bond was whole, letting me feel everything he felt, a constant loop of desire and pleasure.
Now those feelings are gone, and in their place is a hollow emptiness that threatens to consume me body and soul.
I’ve made my decision before I’m even consciously aware of it.
The coven is somewhere nearby. Dana never told me exactly where to find them, just that they were close to Pack Onyx lands, which I just left behind me.
If I can find those witches, maybe they can help me.
Maybe they can take this pain from me forever.
Breaking a mate bond is dangerous. Unheard of for a reason. But it’s impossible to imagine a pain worse than this one. This never-ending agony must stop. Knowing that Kieran had me, claimed me in the most intimate way possible, became one with me, then rejected me all over again… it’s unbearable.
The memory of his words this morning— ”This was a mistake”— makes me grip the handlebars of my bike so tight that my knuckles ache.
I need for this to end. I need to be free of him, of this cursed bond that fate forced on me without even asking.
The sun rises higher as I race down the winding roads, my bike handling the curves with practiced ease.
I should be heading southwest toward Pack Diamond, further into the desert scrub, but instead I veer southeast, following instinct.
The same pull that led me through Pack Onyx lands guides me know, as if my blood knows where to find what it is that I need—like there’s a wolf in me, dim and barely aware, who is just as desperate to be free as I am.
Time passes in a blur of pain and determination. My stomach rumbles, but I only stop for gas, paying with cash I withdrew for this trip. I doubt Kieran has a way to track my card, but—just in case.
Although given what he said this morning, I realize bitterly that he’s probably not following me at all. He made his feelings clear.
By late afternoon, when I’m starting to feel sunburn on the back of my neck and sweat streaks my back, I catch the scent of sage and magic on the wind.
Following my nose leads to an overgrown dirt road through cactus and sago palms. In the distance, I spot an old Victorian house perched near a dried-up riverbed, purple paint peeling from its weathered siding.
Dried herbs hang from the grand wraparound porch, and a rock garden out front that would be inconsequential to a human eye pulses with magical wards.
My hands shake as I cut the engine and park my bike, although that may be hunger and thirst as much as anything.
I can’t bear the thought of eating anything in my pack, but I take a moment to quench my thirst, wincing at the taste of Kieran on my tongue.
Walking up to the creaking porch steps, I feel the finality of what I’m about to do.
Before I can think twice, I raise my hand to knock on the sun-bleached front door, noticing briefly the stained glass artwork that hangs in the windows on either side.
Before my knuckles can connect, the door swings open.
A woman stands on the other side, her silver-streaked black hair pulled back in a loose bun, curls falling forward over her ears.
She has weathered, tanned skin and features that are impossible to place.
Her eyes are an ordinary brown that somehow see straight through me.
In a disgruntled voice she demands, “Who the hell are you, and what brings you here, to our door?”
Tapping on a sign next to the doorframe that reads NO SOLICITORS, then pointing to a second that reads OPEN 10AM-SUNSET FOR ODDS, ENDS, ODDITIES, AND ENDINGS, EXCEPT ON TUESDAYS, and she adds, “It’s Tuesday.”
“I’m not here to buy any crystals,” I tell her, spotting the modest shop on the other side of the door.
The coven must swindle humans out of their hard-earned paychecks, when they’re not dancing in the moonlight or performing rituals.
“My name is Aurora Blackburn, I’m… a shifter,” without a wolf, “and I heard that your coven might be able to help me break a fated mate bond.”
Her eyes narrow. “Where did you hear that?”
“From a friend. Please, I need your help.” I’d be ashamed of how my voice trembles if I weren’t so desperate. “I’ll pay any price I can. I just need it to be over.”
She studies me for a long moment. Seeming to find something in my face, she says, “I’m Bonnie. Come inside. We don’t do spell work on the front porch.”
The interior of the house is exactly what I’d expect from a coven of witches.
Bundles of dried herbs hang from the ceiling, while their ground up versions are stored and labelled in glass jars lined up on shelves against the walls.
Crystals catch the late afternoon light streaming in through the windows, and the smell of incense perfumes the air.
Bonnie leads me through a set of double doors marked EMPLOYEES ONLY.
On the other side, a grand dining room is in a general state of constant use and disarray, based on the dishes in both the sink and on the drying rack.
Three other women of varying ages, young, old, and middle-aged, sit around a heavy wooden table, seemingly in the middle of a conversation when we walk in.
“Client?” asks the youngest, a sharp-eye blonde.
“Shifter,” Bonnie says, and suddenly three pairs of intense eyes are staring at me. “Tell us why you’re here, Aurora Blackburn. And make it good. We don’t break fated mate bonds lightly—your people have a tendency to frown at us when we do.”
I’ve only got this one chance to get my life back.
The story spills out of me in a tangled rush of emotions, including my orphanage and adoption into Pack Jade, as well as my lack of a wolf.
Then I tell them about Kieran. Everything from that first rejection five years ago, to the constant ache since, and finally last night’s intimacy and this morning’s cruel awakening.
By the end, tears stream down my face, and I don’t care if they’re judging me.
No one will ever judge me for trusting Kieran as much as I judge myself.
“I can’t take it anymore.” My voice breaks as I wipe the tears from my face with a handkerchief one of the older witches offers. “This pain is killing me. I feel like my heart might stop beating any minute now. Please, if you can break the bond, I’ll do anything.”
The witches exchange weighted looks. Bonnie, seemingly the leader of the coven, leans forward, her dark eyes intense as she studies me. “Anything?”
I raise my chin and tell them without hesitation, “Absolutely anything at all.”
“We can break the bond.” She tilts her head at me, taking me in from head to toe. “But there’s a price that must be paid first, and lucky for you, you’re the only one who can pay it. We need the blood of Pack Onyx to activate an artifact we recovered from your ancestral lands.”
My breath catches. “What kind of artifact?”
“That’s none of your concern.” Bonnie’s voice is sharp. “The question is, are you willing to pay the price? And I don’t just mean a few drops of your blood. The ritual is intense and painful, and we can’t guarantee that it works. You must be fully willing and committed to break such a bond.”
I hesitate. Gran’s warning about fae bargains echo in my mind, but these aren’t fae, and they aren’t immortal. They’re witches, long-lived and crafty, sometimes our enemies, but other times our reluctant allies.
And right now, the pain in my chest is so intense that I can barely think straight. Whatever the witches do with my blood, it can’t be much worse than what the fae will do if I don’t get my head in the game.
“I’ll do it,” I say decisively. “Whatever you need.”
Bonnie nods, then motions to one of the other woman. When she returns, she’s carrying a glazed porcelain bowl carved with symbols I faintly recognize from the ruins. My blood seems to sting at the sight of it, responding to the latent magic within.
“A few drops should do it,” she says, pulling out an ordinary pocket knife. “Then we’ll perform the ritual to break your bond.”