I could’ve carried her. Maybe found a healer. Maybe called someone. But I didn’t. I made a choice. Ibither. Not out of lust. Not out of instinct. Well, not entirely. I told myself it was to save her. That the mate bond would heal what nothing elsecould. That it was magic, not desire, that drove my fangs into her throat.
But now…
Now I don’t know.
Part of me knows I did it because Iwantedto. Because the second my teeth touched her skin, everything inside mesang. The magic poured into her. The bond lit up like wildfire. Her failing pulse steadied. Her wounds began to knit together.
And I felt the truth root deep: she was mine.
Once I’m dressed in sweatpants, a hoodie, and black boots, I race through the underbrush, faster than any human, my senses sharpened despite the blood still sticky on my skin. Every breath fills me with her scent. Every step is driven by that faint, almost imperceptible rhythm of her heartbeat calling me forward.
I’ve never believed in fated mates. Hell, I’ve laughed at the idea more than once because I wasn’t born a shifter.
But now? Now there’s no denying it.
The bond is forming. Incomplete, but rooted. My bite and her magic triggered it in a tether older than packs and laws.
Butshe didn’t choose this.
The thought tears me apart.
I see her face again—the flicker of fear when I pinned her. The shock in her eyes. She didn’t know what I was. She didn’t understand. But I didn’t stop.
Gods.
I growl under my breath, dodging between thick trunks, my boots thudding against the mossy ground. I’m a guardian. A protector. I’ve never forced myself on anyone. Never claimed something that didn’t want to be claimed.
Until now.
She was dying,my wolf growls.You did what you had to do.
His words give me little comfort.
The thought of her bleeding out, alone and afraid, makes my stomach twist.
Please let her be okay.
My cabin rises out of the trees, rough-hewn and quiet, the porch still peppered with last night’s leaves. As I approach my refuge, the bond grows louder and sharper.
She’s there.
Alive. But still.
I don’t hesitate. I push through the door, my breath catching the moment I see her.
She’s on my bed, small and pale under a wool blanket I use in winter storms. Her red cloak lies torn on the floor. Her braid has come loose, and strands of russet and gold are splayed across my pillow. Her mouth is parted, and her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks.
And her neck?—
No blood. Only a faint crescent of healing teeth marks and a soft glow beneath the skin. The bondthrumsfrom that point, a pulse of heat and energy I can feel in my bones.
I kneel beside her, trembling with relief. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. But you were dying…”
My hand hovers near her cheek, but doesn’t touch. “You didn’t choose me. I took that from you.”
Yet she’s still here. Still breathing. Tethered by an ancient magic neither of us asked for.
Her scent shifts as if responding to my presence, becoming sweeter and warmer. A ribbon of heat twists through my lungs as her heartbeat flutters.
