Page 71 of Fated to the Alpha Warrior (The Wolf’s Forbidden Mate #1)
Once they’re gone, I find myself drawn back to the open ruins.
Normally this is when I train by myself, meditate and cool down before I head home.
But the scent of cedar and rain still lingers, mixing with old magic and something else…
something that sets my teeth on edge for reasons I can’t quite explain.
Setting down my water bottle, I pull out my phone and examine the wall more carefully, comparing the newly carved symbols to the notes I took on my phone.
Although they appear haphazard at first glance, the symbols aren’t random.
They form a pattern like the protection wards Aurora has shown me, a set of protective symbols that form a crescent shape, like the waxing moon.
But these are more complex, their slashing marks joined with smaller gestures and elements I haven’t seen before.
It’s almost like whoever carved them was trying to recreate the old magic that kept Pack Onyx safe from fae influence for so long, but they’re adding to it, as if they expect another attack on the ruins.
Aurora and Kieran have said that this place is as safe as any—safer than most, they reason, since it’s been drained of all the pack magic and long left to rot.
Whoever left these marks seems to disagree.
“What are you up to?” I murmur as I trace an intricate symbol that reminds me of Aurora’s symbol for out/away, but with intricate additions I’ve never seen. “And why don’t you want to be found?”
The bond pulses in response, startling me with emotions that aren’t mine: determination tinged with fear, layered over a distant kind of scholarly fascination, all mixed with a warrior’s instinct. And underneath it all, growing by the second, a bone-deep longing that matches my own.
Movement at the edge of my vision catches my attention again.
Just a shadow, but enough to make me whirl around and scan the distance.
This time I catch a better glimpse through the thick mist: broad shoulders and powerful arms, moving with the kind of grace that comes from years of combat training.
The bond flares between us, hot and demanding, making my knees weak and my wolf whine.
I hate that it affects me so strongly, that my body betrays me with every pulse of connection between us.
“Really?” I call out to him, letting my irritation mask the tremble of my voice. “We’re playing hide and seek now? Real mature.”
A deep chuckle reaches my ears, rich and masculine, sending shivers down my spine that I absolutely refuse to acknowledge.
The sound seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, wrapping around me as if the mist itself is mocking me.
My wolf surges forward, desperate to chase, to find, to claim and be claimed in return—but the stubborn, rational part of me holds back.
This isn’t a game I’m willing to play, no matter what fate has decreed.
I won’t let a mate bond control me, and I won’t play games with strangers.
“Just come out,” I call into the mist, refusing to look around in search for his voice. “We should talk.”
My mate, it seems, has other ideas. Another flash of movement draws my attention deeper into the ruins, and despite myself, I’m pulled toward it.
The bond pulses with emotions: amusement, invitation, and underneath it a little bit of what tastes like fear.
Not of me, I think, but something else. Something that makes my protective instincts flare despite my irritation.
“Damnit,” I mutter as I follow. Because apparently this is my life now—chasing mysterious shadows through ancient ruins because fate decided to play a cosmic joke on me.
The ache in my chest grows strong with every step I take, like someone’s tied a string between us and is pulling it tight.
Each breath brings more of his scent to me, cedar and rain, old books and antiques, things that have aged gently and slowly.
There’s something dark lurking under the surface of that scent, something that speaks of secrets and things hidden from the light.
My wolf whines, sensing his nearness and desperate to get closer.
I catch glimpses of him through the gathering darkness, but only ever glimpses.
Always just enough to make the bond surge with recognition, never enough to see his face.
He’s playing with me, the bastard. Leading me on a chase through the ruins like some kind of twisted courtship ritual.
It’s absolutely infuriating—and exhilarating in a way I never expected fate to be.
The bond throbs between us with each beat of my heart, carrying fragments of emotion that aren’t mine: amusement, determination, longing, and an undercurrent of urgency. He’s enjoying this, eating it up. He loves making me chase him while he stays just out of reach.
“You know this isn’t really making a great first impression.
” My voice echoes through the ruins, and I do my best to ignore how the bond makes my skin feel too tight, how every cell in my body screams to close the distance between us.
“Most people just say hello, maybe ask a girl out on a date… normal shit.”
His only response is another low chuckle that seems to brush against my bare skin. The sound goes straight to my core, making my wolf howl with frustrated desire. But when I round the next corner, following his trail closely, he’s gone again.
Only this time he’s left something behind. Another sprig of wildflowers, but these are different—they’re night-blooming jasmine, their sweet scent mixing with his cedar and rain in a way that makes my head spin. They’re laid across an old journal, its leather cover worn smooth with age.
The bond pulses with meaning. It feels like a promise or a warning. It’s hard to tell through the haze of the bond in my head, through the maddening push-pull of having a mate so close yet completely out of reach.
I pick up the flowers again, pressing them to my nose and inhaling deeply until a whine rises in my throat.
His scent clings to them, so fresh that I know he was just here.
The journal, when I lift it, falls open to a blank page.
But I can feel the weight of its secrets, and I have the feeling not all the pages will be blank.
Night is falling now. I should head back first thing—I have students to train, responsibilities that don’t care about fated mates or mysterious men who leave cryptic gifts but won’t show their face.
But the ache in my chest has settled deep inside me, turning into something permanent, a hollow space that I know nothing else will fill.
“Fine.” I tuck both the flowers and journal into my bag, which straps diagonally across my chest and will come with me when I shift. “You can keep your secrets and play your games. But this isn’t over, and it’s not going to go your way.”
The bond pulses one last time with satisfaction. Then his presence fades entirely, leaving me alone with the ruins and the maddening knowledge that somewhere out there, my mate is watching and waiting. Planning his next move in this strange game he’s started.
As I head back to the training grounds, I can’t help the bounce in my step. It feels like there’s a new mystery at my fingertips just waiting to be unwrapped. A challenge just for me.
Whatever he’s playing at, whatever secrets he’s keeping… he’s not the only hunter around. And if he thinks I’m just going to sit around like a prim and proper mate, waiting for him to decide when to show himself, he’s got a few surprises coming for him.
I’ve never been very good at doing what fate wants anyway.
And I’ve always enjoyed a good hunt.
Thank you for reading Fated to the Alpha Warrior!
And if you want more spicy, action-packed wolf shifter romance, check out my completed reverse harem series, The Last Shifter .