Stolen Mate

The sun hadn't yet risen when I slipped into the infirmary, my hands steady but my mind restless. Dawn painted the sky in streaks of violet and gold, and the air smelled of dew and smoke from the early-lit bonfires. I rearranged jars of salves and tinctures—already perfectly ordered—to keep from pacing. The pack had buzzed all night with preparations, but here, among the dried herbs and silence, I could pretend today was ordinary.

*He's back*, my wolf whispered, restless beneath my skin.

I ignored her.

Lila burst through the door, her hair braided with crimson ribbons, cheeks flushed. "They're here! The scouts just signaled—Kieran's crossing the northern ridge!"

My fingers tightened around a jar of elderberry syrup. "Good. The pack needs him."

She rolled her eyes. "*You* need to stop hiding. Come on!"

Before I could refuse, she dragged me outside. The village pulsed with energy. Warriors lined the main path, their postures rigid, while elders chanted blessings. Children perched on shoulders, craning to see. I hovered near the back, close enough to watch but far enough to fade into the shadows.

A horn blared.

The crowd stilled as hoofbeats thundered in the distance. My pulse quickened. Through the mist, figures emerged—Kieran at the front, riding a midnight-black stallion, his broad frame cloaked in furs. Even from here, I felt the heat of his gaze scanning the pack. *Looking for her*, I thought. His true mate.

The air shifted as he dismounted, earth trembling under his boots. His storm-gray eyes swept over the crowd, sharp and assessing. A scar cut through his left brow, pale against his sun-darkened skin. When his gaze brushed mine, my breath hitched. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed—to him, to the primal pull in my chest, to the *rightness* that made my wolf whimper.

Then he looked away.

The pack erupted into cheers as he strode toward his lodge, warriors clapping his shoulders. Lila whistled, loud and brash, while I stood frozen, my ribs a cage for the wild thing clawing inside me.

"Elara?"

I startled. Mara, the pack's head cook, thrust a basket of bandages into my arms. "The Alpha's men might need tending. Go."

I nodded, grateful for the excuse to move.

Inside the lodge, the air was thick with pine resin and iron. Kieran's beta, Garrick, slumped on a bench, his forearm bleeding. I knelt beside him, focusing on the wound—a shallow gash, clean. My hands didn't shake as I cleaned it. *Focus on this*, I told myself. *Not him*.

"You're quiet today," Garrick grunted.

"You're lucky it's not deeper," I said, wrapping linen around his arm.

He smirked. "Would've been, if Kieran hadn't stepped in. Got between me and a Nightshade warrior's claws like it was nothing."

My throat tightened. *Of course he did*. "The treaty?"

"Signed. No more raids." He flexed his arm, testing the bandage. "Thanks, healer."

I stood, gathering supplies, when the lodge doors swung open.

Kieran entered, his presence swallowing the room. Blood smeared his tunic, not his own. His eyes locked onto mine, and the pull returned, fiercer, like a rope yanking my spine straight. My wolf surged forward, desperate to close the distance between us.

*No.*

I dropped my gaze. "Are you injured, Alpha?"

A pause. "No."

His voice was gravel, low and rough from weeks of command. I risked a glance—his jaw clenched, nostrils flaring as if scenting the air. *My scent*. Lavender, unmistakable. Panic fluttered in my throat. Did he feel it too? The bond?

"Elara."

I flinched at the sound of my name. "Yes?"

"The wounded?"

"All stable." I stepped back, clutching the basket to my chest. "I should go."

He didn't stop me.

Outside, I leaned against the lodge's cedar walls, trembling. The mate bond wasn't a gentle tug—it was a wildfire, threatening to burn every wall I'd built. But Kieran hadn't reacted. Hadn't *claimed* me. Maybe the Goddess had made a mistake. Or maybe I had.

"There you are!" Lila bounded over, her grin faltering as she studied me. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Just tired."

She looped her arm through mine, steering me toward the feast. "Come on. You've earned some cider after patching up Garrick's dramatics."

I let her chatter fill my head, smothering the ache in my chest. The bonfire roared, laughter echoing as the pack celebrated Kieran's return. He sat at the high table, a crown of oak leaves on his brow, his gaze distant.

Lila followed my stare. "He's different. Harder."

"War changes people," I murmured.

"Or maybe he's just waiting." She winked. "For *you*."

I choked on my cider. "Stop."

"I'm serious! Did you see how he looked at you?"

*Yes*. Like a storm searching for landfall. "He didn't look at me at all."

She opened her mouth to argue, but a howl cut through the noise—long and mournful. The pack fell silent as Elder Taryn rose, her gnarled hands raised.

"Tomorrow," she intoned, "the Moon Goddess will bless our Alpha with his true mate. Prepare. Cleanse. And heed Her will."

The crowd erupted into howls, a chorus that shook the stars. Lila howled with them, fierce and bright. I pressed my lips together, the sound dying in my throat.

Later, in my cabin, I scrubbed my hands with rosemary, the scent sharp enough to erase the memory of his. But when I closed my eyes, I saw him—bloodied and regal, a king who didn't know I existed.

*It's better this way*, I told myself.

My wolf disagreed.