13. THORNE

Chapter 13

THORNE

Blood splatters hot against my fur, the metallic tang a stark contrast to the primal roar that still echoes in my throat.

The fallen lion shifter lies still, its threat extinguished. But my victory tastes like ash in my mouth.

Elowen. My gaze snaps to her, my wolf whimpering in my chest.

She lies crumpled on the cold earth floor, her face pale against the blood that stains my fur. My senses, raw and on edge, tell me she's alive but unconscious.

The memory of her voice, barely a whisper before darkness claimed her, slices through me. "Thank you," she'd rasped, her eyes filled with a gratitude that tore at my already bleeding heart.

Gratitude for saving her life—thanking me.

Shame burns hotter than the fresh wounds on my flank.

The lie I clung to, the lie that almost cost her life, hangs heavy in the air.

My actions, the way I rejected her. How could I have been so blind? The prophecy and the pack's need for unity all paled in comparison to the truth etched on her back—the mark of my fated mate, glowing faintly beside the dark blemish of a rejected mate.

My wolf whines, nuzzling closer to Elowen's limp form. I shift, the bones in my body groaning in protest as I return to my human form.

The ragged clothes I wear hang in shreds, barely covering the gashes that crisscross my skin. But the pain is a dull throb compared to the agony that claws at my soul.

I reach out but hesitate before touching her. Every fiber of my being screams to hold her, to comfort her. But the memory of the pain I caused her, the raw hurt in her eyes, stops me cold.

"Elowen," I rasp. The word hangs in the air, a desperate plea for forgiveness that I don't deserve.

Silence stretches, broken only by the ragged rasp of my breath. The enormity of what I've done threatens to crush me.

I have to fix this. I have to find a way to earn back her trust, to convince her that my love for her is real. It shouldn't have taken a near-death experience to make me see it. I should have never allowed prophecy to overrule love.

As I look down at Elowen's unconscious form, a new fear gnaws at me. Will she even wake up to hear me? Or will the pain I inflicted be the last thing she remembers?

I gather her in my arms and start to run.

The rhythmic thud of my feet against the earth is the only constant. Elowen slumps lifelessly against my back, her warmth my only assurance she's still alive.

Shame gnaws at me, a bitter contrast to the panic that gripped me when I found her. Rejected. The word echoes in the cavernous space of my skull.

I've been running all night, but the scent of pine and damp earth gives way to a pungent musk, the unmistakable aroma of my pack.

Relief washes over me, but apprehension takes over. How do I explain this?

I burst through the undergrowth, the clearing ablaze with firelight. Gasps erupt from the assembled pack, wary eyes locking on my burden.

"This," I announce, voice hoarse, "is Elowen. My mate."

The word hangs heavy in the air. Rylan emerges from the shadows, his brow furrowed in a deep V. "Your mate? But you said—" he stops at the look on my face.

I see the whispers travel, faces contorting in confusion. Elowen. The rejected mate. The one I deemed unworthy with a callous word and a slammed door just a day ago.

Now, she lies unconscious in my arms, the undeniable pull of the bond still humming faintly between us.

I'll do anything to make our bond strong again.

A knot clenches my stomach. How do I explain this? How do I confess that in the face of her rejection, my own wolf howled in anguish, tearing my own decision to shreds?

Shame burns in my throat, acrid and bitter. I can only clench my jaw, holding Elowen closer, a silent promise to rectify my monstrous mistake.

Squaring my shoulders, I look at Rylan, making sure he realizes how serious I am. "She's injured. Have the healer see to her needs."

Zane steps forward, his hands hovering over Elowen's limp form. Relief floods me as he takes her, the responsibility momentarily lifted.

Everyone files out, but Rylan stays.

"What's going on, Thorne?" he asks. "You went out to find the fated mate, but you came back with an unconscious she-wolf, one you've already rejected. What's going on, Alpha?"

Shame burns hot, and I can't hold his gaze. "She is the fated mate."

The words hang heavy in the air. Rylan frowns. "But… the mark? She didn't have the mark you were looking for. She just had the mark of a rejected mate."

I clench my fists, the moonlight glinting off my claws that retract with a snick. "There are two marks." The truth erupts from me. "I… I rejected her. I thought she wasn't the one. The moment I did…" I'm unable to finish the sentence. The memory is too raw.

Rylan's jaw drops, and then a low whistle escapes him. He glances over to where Elowen rests, then back at me. Understanding dawns in his eyes, laced with disbelief. "The bond… it forced itself on her when you rejected her?"

I nod, the weight of my actions pressing down on me. "The second the words left my mouth, the male mark burned onto her skin, claiming her as mine." A self-deprecating laugh escapes my throat, devoid of humor. "Talk about a terrible ass mistake."

Rylan stares at me for a long beat, and then a slow grin spreads across his face. He's not mocking me. His camaraderie warms a tiny corner of my frozen heart. "Well, brother," he claps me on the shoulder, "looks like you have a hell of a mess to clean up."

Well, fuck.