Page 43 of Fated to the Alpha Warrior (The Wolf’s Forbidden Mate #1)
“It’ll fade, won’t it?” Looking up at my father, I try to find some knowledge or wisdom in his glassy, angry eyes. “The mate bond. It won’t hurt this way forever?”
He snorts. “How should I know? Your mother and I were meant to be. The second I saw her, the bond snapped into place, and it was like…” Closing his eyes, he inhales deeply, his face settling into something like happiness. “Heaven.”
Then his eyes snap open, and he’s looking at me again. “Until you came along and killed her.”
There’s nothing I can say to that. Thankfully, my father grabs his bottle of whiskey and strides out of the study, no doubt heading out to finish it off, maybe with a side of witch’s brew to really make the liquor stick around.
His beta and warriors will stick close by, just in case he gets into trouble, to make sure nothing happens—and no one else in the pack sees.
He’s not like this often, I reason as I dab the blood from my cheek, wincing at the sting of wolfsbane kicking in. It’s been a few months since I even saw him with a drink in his hand. It must be the pressure of the Lunar New Year getting to him.
That, and the sight of his son and heir being bonded to the weakest shifter in the pack. The outcast who can’t even shift. Who carries a madness with her that infected her whole pack and killed every last member but her.
I know that he’ll target her now. So I vow to myself that I’ll protect her as much as possible, even if it means suffering from this ache in my chest from the rejected bond.
Better to have this, then to find out what my father would do to her if she became the next alpha’s mate.
Nothing good could come from his rage in the face of her weakness.
My wolf whines and snarls. He wants her—desperately. I don’t know how to tell him that he’ll never get to have her. So instead I just slump down into the armchair, pressing on my bleeding cheek in the hopes it’ll stop bleeding soon, and let him howl out his anguish and despair.
Better that I suffer like this, so she can be safe, somewhere far from here.
As far from him as possible.
The memory of the mistakes I made that day, how I chose my father’s approval over my mate, is devastating in this moment.
I made the same mistake this morning, not realizing how deep the consequences would be.
For too long, I’d believed Aurora was strong enough to take my rejection—now I realize how wrong I was.
All my life, I’ve let my father’s voice in my head dictate my choices. I let his idea of strength, misguided and ruthless, shape who I’ve become. But what kind of strength forces you to hurt someone you love? What kind of alpha abandons his own mate?
The truth hits me: I’m not afraid of being weak. I’m afraid of being strong enough to stand up to him. To be the alpha, and the mate, I should have been from the start—even if it costs me his approval.
“Listen carefully,” I tell the messenger, letting my wolf’s dominance thread my voice. “Go to Mason and Henry. Tell them to gather our strongest warriors and coordinate the pack’s defense, with Jasper in the lead. Have them contact our allies in Pack Amethyst and Pack Sapphire for reinforcement.”
“But your father?—”
“I know what my father wants.” I push my wolf’s dominance even further, glad we’re in agreement on this choice.
“Mason knows our defensive strategies, and the Pack Amethyst alpha can help. They’ll know what to do.
Tell my father…” I pause, thinking of his angry eyes, his put-downs, and wonder why I ever cared.
“Tell him that I’m doing what must be done for my future. ”
The messenger hesitates for only a moment more before he nods and takes off running.
As soon as he’s gone, I shift back to my wolf form and push myself harder than I ever have before.
My muscles burn as I race through the mountain paths, taking shortcuts no vehicle could manage, leaping from heights that make my bones shake.
The bond pulses with increasing agony the whole time, spurring me faster like the devil is on my heels.
Hold on, Aurora. Please just hold on. I’ll be there soon.
But the pain only grows worse. Through our connection, I can feel her agony peak in waves that nearly bring me to my knees. She’s in the middle of the ritual, destroying our bond. I’m running out of time to stop it.
My wolf and I are in perfect sync for the first time in five years, both of us absolutely desperate to reach her.
We push beyond our limits, racing faster, refusing to stop for water.
Blood pounds in my ears as my heart threatens to burst from exertion, each breath of air searing my lungs.
But the agony is nothing compared to what I feel at the mere thought of losing her.
Finally I pick up the scent of witch magic on the wind: sage and ozone, along with a sharp, dark scent that must be the ritual. Following the trail leads me to a grand old Victorian house perched near an empty riverbed. Power crackles in the air around it, making my hackles rise.
This is it. This is the moment when I finally stop running from who I am, from who I belong with, and what we could be together. No more hiding behind my father’s expectations. No more running away, or pretending I don’t love her with every fiber of my being.
If only I’m not too late.
A scream pierces the air: Aurora’s voice, raw with agony and pushed to the limits. The sound tears through me like barbed wire wrapping around my innards.
I leap up the stairs and burst through the front door of the house, not bothering to shift back to human form.
Following her scent and screams leads me through a shop and toward an ordinary-looking kitchen and dining room.
The sight that greets my eyes is so sickening I almost howl my rage to the heavens.
Aurora lies crumpled on the floor in the center of a glowing ritual circle, her body convulsing wildly as four witches chant around her, candles dripping in their cupped palms. Power whips through the air like a cyclone, trying to tear apart fate itself, attacking our bond like an invading enemy.
Blood trickles from Aurora’s nose and ears, her fingers curled into the floor with so much force that they dig gouges into the wood.
Roaring in rage, I leap forward to break the circle.
Just as I’m almost at her side, Aurora’s back arches one final time as she lets out a pitiful, soul-shattering scream with a voice hoarse from screaming.
Then she collapses, covered in sweat and completely still, blood still dripping from her face.
The witches’ chants cut off abruptly. All around us, the magic dissipates with an almost audible pop, like an airplane cabin releasing pressure.
I shift back to my human form, uncaring for my nudity, and rush to Aurora’s side.
My wolf whimpers as I gather her limp body into my arms, feeling how fragile she is, how motionless.
“What did you do to her?” I demand, cradling her against my chest. Her skin is cold and clammy, her breathing shallow. The bond between us feels strange—not broken or completed, but wrong somehow, like a frequency on the wrong channel.
“What she asked us to do,” one of the witches responds coldly. “What you drove her to beg us for with all your action and inaction.”
Her words hit me harder than they should, given that I already know this is my fault. Looking down at Aurora’s unconscious face, seeing the tear tracks that cut through the blood under her nose, the full weight of my many mistakes crashes down on me.
I did this to her. It was my weakness, my fear, my inability to stand up to my father and claim my fated mate that led us here.
I’ve hurt her over and over again, and still she trusted me enough to give herself to me completely last night.
A trust and vulnerability I didn’t earn, and threw away this morning in my fear, driving her to this desperate act. Now I may lose her forever.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers. “Please wake up, Aurora. Please don’t leave me.”
But she doesn’t stir, and I’m left holding her unconscious body, drowning in regret for all of the choices that brought us to this moment.