The kid—Marco is his name—pushes himself up with a groan and gets to his feet. His fighting stance is still sloppy as hell, but there’s a stubborn glint in his eyes that I can respect. And he’s from the outskirts, not one of those pampered pack brats who thinks being able to shift makes them invincible.
I’ve seen enough of those to last me several lifetimes.
The training grounds we’re building near the Pack Onyx ruins are coming along nicely, if I do say so myself, and I do since I’ve had a big hand in designing them. Aurora’s idea to create neutral territory for sharing combat techniques between packs is probably the smartest thing any shifter’s done in generations. Not that I’ll tell her that, since her head is already plenty big now that she has her wolf, her mate, and a pack that admires her.
Speaking of my best friend and her reformed asshole mate, they’re due to visit next week to check on our progress here. I’m actually looking forward to seeing both of them, which is… a strange feeling. Despite all the odds stacked against him, Kieranhas really changed. In a good way. Although if he ever hurts Aurora again, I won’t hesitate to rip his throat out and bury him six feet deep.
“Again,” I tell Marco, falling into my fighting stance and gesturing for him to come at me. “This time, remember what I taught you about keeping your guard up and using your opponent’s momentum against them. Use that move I taught you.”
He lunges, telegraphing his movements so obviously that I almost sigh. But as I block and counter, he surprises me with a feint I definitely didn’t teach him. I dodge it, but barely, a grip of pride spreading across my face.
“Not bad, kid.” I sweep his legs out from under him anyway, because he needs to learn. “But next time, remember that the match doesn’t end just because you landed one good move. So don’t get cocky.”
The rest of the morning passes in a blur of training young upstarts and directing the construction of the training grounds. We’re building something special here, something to be valued. A place where outsiders are included, where different fighting styles are valued equally, where being different isn’t seen as a weakness but just another kind of strength. We’ve come so far since that moment I found Aurora broken and alone on that road.
It’s late in the afternoon when I notice the first strange markings. They’re carved into one of the old, half-crumbled stone walls that used to mark the edge of Pack Onyx territory. There are symbols all over the territory—that’s something I’ve gotten used to—but these I don’t recognize. They weren’t there yesterday, I’m certain of it.
“Take five,” I tell my students without letting my stress show. “Actually, make it ten. Get some water, catch your breath.”
Once I’m sure none of them are looking, I approach the wall and look more closely at the symbols. They’re fresh, the stone cut at sharp angle, unworn and still filled with stone dust. But there’s something else there too—a scent that makes my wolf stir with interest in a way she hasn’t all day while sparring. Cedar and rain, with an undertone of old books and antiques in a way that’s oddly appealing.
I trace the symbols absent-mindedly with my fingers, trying to place why they seem familiar. I know I haven’t seen them here before. They’re not quite like the protection wards Aurora showed me, but they’re similar, sharp and primal. It’s almost like someone’s been studying the old magic, trying to understand how it works, without the full knowledge behind them.
A shadow moves at the edge of my vision, unfamiliar and broad, and I spin around, shifting my weight into a fighting stance. But there’s nothing there except mist rising from the ground where the afternoon heat meets the cool damp earth. Still, I can’t shake the feeling of being watched, of just having missed something from the corner of my eyes.
“Who’s there?” I call out, keeping my voice steady, my wolf rising to the surface of my skin. “Whoever you are, show yourself!”
If it’s the fae again…
Silence answers me, but a scent gathers in my nose, stronger than before: cedar and rain. Whoever it is, they’re close. My wolf wants to stalk, hunt, chase—but I hold her back, years of training telling me to be cautious. The fae may be lying low since their last attack, but that doesn’t mean they’re gone. Aurora and Kieran have said that this territory has been drained of anything useful to them, but they could still come back if they realize we’ve returned.
Another brief flash of movement catches my attention, and this time I’m sure I see someone: tall and broad-shouldered, definitely male based on their build. They move with fluid grace and predatory intent, but there’s something quiet and self-contained about the way they study their surroundings. Before I can get a proper look at their face—and any pointy ears or lack thereof—they disappear into the mist like a ghost.
“Ohhellno.” I stalk toward them, inhaling their lingering scent. Mysterious figures lurking around ancient pack ruins is the last thing we need to deal with today. “Get back here and tell me who you are and what you’re doing!”
I follow the lingering scent through the ruins, past crumbling walls and ivy-covered remnants of the past. Whoever I’m following knows these ruins well. They take paths I didn’t even know existed, weaving through small openings and taking steep inclines like a mountain goat. It’s almost as if they were born here among the ruins of Pack Onyx and its ghosts.
Just when I think I’ve lost them completely, I round a corner and catch another glimpse of their silhouette through the mist. They’re even bigger up close, easily over six feet tall, with broad shoulders that would make Kieran look slim. They—he—is definitely human or shifter, with round ears and no fae scent amidst the cedar and rain. But before I can call out for them again, before I can even properly process what I’m seeing, the impossible happens.
The mate bond snaps into place.
It hits me like lightning, shocking my system, stealing my breath and making my knees buckle. A thousand sensations flood through me at once—completion and longing, recognition and need. As soon as I recognize what’s happened, the figure disappears into the mist. My wolf howls in triumph and desperation as our fated mate vanishes before we can even see their face.
“No.” I gasp, struggling to my feet. “No, no, no. This is not happening. Not to me.”
But it is. The ache in my chest where the incomplete bond pulses tells me exactly what just happened. It’s a yawning cavern, and ache that pulls me toward the mist, that drags my wolf to the surface of my body.
After years of watching Aurora suffer through a rejected bond, after swearing I’d never let fate dictate my choices… here I am, brought to my knees by a connection that I never wanted, that I swore I wouldn’t fall victim to.
And the bastard responsible for it isn’t even sticking around to face me.
When I finally catch my breath enough to pursue the scent, he’s long gone. But he’s left something behind—a sprig of fresh mountain wildflowers laid carefully on a fallen column, along with a scrap of paper covered in the same strange symbols I found on the wall, burned in black ash.
Looking at the flowers sense another pulse of longing through me, the bond a growing ache in my chest. They’re my favorites—the exact kind that grow wild near where I found Aurora that day on the road, my lucky flowers that bring peace to me. Which means that whoever my mysterious mate is, they know exactly who I am, and I have no idea who they are.
“Well, fuck,” I mutter. Despite myself, I pick up the flowers, inhaling the scent of their floral fragrance—and nearly whimpering at the lingering scent of male on them. “This is definitely going to complicate shit.”
The ache in my chest doesn’t fade as the day wears on. If anything, it gets worse, a spreading ache and constant throbthat makes it hard to concentrate on anything else. Is this what Aurora felt all those years after Kieran rejected her? If so, no wonder she was willing to risk death to break the bond. I’ve barely had one and I already feel like tearing my own skin off to get rid of it.
