16. ELOWEN

Chapter 16

ELOWEN

I glare back at Thorne, fury a burning ember in my chest.

The wolf, its obsidian fur gleaming in the dappled sunlight, nudges my leg again. This isn't a friendly greeting; it's a silent command to stay put.

Well, that's what I think it is.

Thorne's wolf is a constant reminder of his betrayal.

"Is this another one of your games?" I spit out, my voice tight with fury. "Sending your pet to keep me on a leash?"

Thorne's jaw clenches, and for a moment, I think he might actually lunge at me. But he takes a deep breath, his broad chest rising and falling.

"No, Elowen," he says through gritted teeth. "Shadow is here for your protection."

Protection? From what? My own escape attempt? The absurdity of it all is almost comical.

"My protection?" I scoff. "From whom exactly? Your pack mates who seem hell-bent on making me feel unwelcome?"

As if on cue, one of the wolves who'd snickered at my outburst earlier swaggers towards me. He's a hulking figure with fur the color of burnt umber, and his eyes hold a cold, calculating glint.

"So, this is the fiery mate the Alpha brings home," he sneers, circling me like a predator. "Heard you weren't very receptive to his... advances."

Before I can retort, a female wolf steps forward, her sleek black fur rippling with suppressed anger. "Leave her alone, Bjorn," she hisses. "She's the Alpha's mate, whether you like it or not."

Bjorn chuckles, a sound devoid of humor. "Alpha's mate, huh? Seems more like his captive to me."

My hand instinctively goes to the small dagger tucked into my boot. I may not be a trained warrior like these wolves, but I am not defenseless either.

"Perhaps you should rephrase that," I growl, taking a threatening step forward. "Unless you want to test the bite of a raging she-wolf."

Bjorn laughs again, a booming sound that echoes through the clearing. "A great challenging from a tiny wolf? Now I've seen everything."

"Enough!" Thorne's voice roars, silencing everyone instantly. His eyes blaze with a primal rage held barely in check. "Bjorn, You will not speak to her like that! Back down. Now."

Bjorn doesn't move but eventually shuffles backward, muttering under his breath. I glare at him, my anger still simmering, but I tuck away the dagger.

Thorne turns to me, his expression unreadable. "Elowen," he begins, "I get it that you're angry. But you need to understand—"

"Understand what?" I snap, cutting him off. "That you can reject me, then shower me with fancy trinkets as if that somehow makes everything alright? That I should be happy to be a prisoner in your pack?"

"Prisoner?" Thorne's voice rises a notch. "This isn't a prison, Elowen. You're free to leave if you want."

"Free to leave?" I echo, incredulous. "With a giant wolf trailing me and your pack mates ready to pounce? That's your idea of freedom?"

He opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up a hand, silencing him.

"Look, Thorne," I say, calmer now. "I appreciate that you… regret what happened. But right now, all I want is to leave. Go back to my life, wherever that may be."

A flicker of pain crosses Thorne's features, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability that surprises me. Then, he squares his shoulders, a mask of stoicism back in place.

"I can't let you do that, Elowen. You're in danger."

"Danger?" I scoff. "From what? A pack of wolves I barely know?"

"No," he says, shaking his head. "From the darkness that's rising. You… you're the key to stopping it."

I roll my eyes. This whole thing is ridiculous. Darkness? Keys? It sounds like a story a child would make up.

"I guarantee you don't need to remind me," I snap, my voice laced with irritation. "I know that very well."

The weight of the revelation, the burden he's placing on me, sits heavy in my chest. But right now, it's overshadowed by a more pressing need—escape.

I stand up abruptly, brushing imaginary dirt off my jeans. Every second spent here, with Thorne, with these wolves, feels like a betrayal to me.

"I appreciate the… explanation," I say, my voice tight. "But I think I need some time alone."

Thorne opens his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. "Don't worry," I say coldly. "Shadow can keep me company, can't he?"

The black wolf sits on its haunches, its intelligent eyes locked on mine. It feels like a constant reminder of my captivity, a physical manifestation of Thorne's control.

Without waiting for a response, I turn on my heel and walk away.

The urge to run, to put as much distance between me and Thorne as possible, is almost primal.

But I know better.

Every attempt I've made to escape has been thwarted—the guarded perimeter, the watchful wolves, even the dense forest that seems to twist in on itself, disorienting and confusing.

Frustration bubbles up inside me, hot and bitter.

I hate this. I hate feeling trapped, vulnerable, like a pawn in some game I don't understand.

As I walk, I can't help but notice the way some of the pack members stare at me. Their gazes are a mixture of curiosity, suspicion, and something that feels suspiciously like hostility.

A young female wolf with fur the color of burnished copper walks past me, her nose held high.

"Well, well," she snickers. "Looks like the Alpha's little wolf isn't too happy."

I don't respond. I don't have the energy for their petty taunts.

Further down the path, a hulking male with broad shoulders and fur the color of storm clouds blocks my way.

"Lost, little wolf?" he growls, his voice low and menacing.

I glare at him, my back stiffening.

"No," Trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. "Just looking for some fresh air."

He leans in closer, his hot breath washing over my face. "Word of advice. Don't get too comfortable here. You're not one of us."

My jaw clenches angrily.

"Actually," I say, "I'm not here by choice. So maybe you should take your advice and shove it."

He growls again, but before he can say anything else, a sharp bark pierces the air. Shadow materializes at my side, his obsidian fur bristling, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

The male wolf backs away, his eyes flickering nervously between me and Shadow.

"Fine," he mutters, stepping aside. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

I continue walking, Shadow padding silently by my side. The encounter leaves a sour taste in my mouth, a reminder of the uneasy truce I exist in with this pack.

Disoriented, it takes me a while to find my room, unfamiliar with the layout of the den. Finally, I spot the small wooden door tucked away in a secluded corner.

Relief washes over me as I push the door open. This small space, with its simple bed and a window overlooking the forest, is the only place in this entire pack that feels vaguely familiar.

I collapse onto the bed, exhaustion finally catching up to me.

But even here, with the thin walls offering little to no privacy, I can't seem to escape the feeling of Thorne's presence. It lingers in the air, a constant reminder of his betrayal and the impossible situation I find myself in.

Tears prick my eyes. I clench my fists, willing them back. Crying won't solve anything. I need to get out of here.

But how?

I haven't slept, the image of Thorne's pleading face and the absurdity of his words – "you're the key" – replaying on a loop in my mind.

The sound of a soft knock at the door makes me jump.

"Elowen?" Thorne's voice comes through, low and hesitant.

I don't answer. What is he even doing here?

The knock comes again, softer this time.

"Elowen, please. Let me in."

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. My body aches for comfort—for someone to understand my inner turmoil. But the moment I see Thorne, all I feel is anger and a fresh wave of betrayal.

"Go away," I rasp.

Silence hangs heavy in the air, then the doorknob rattles.

"Elowen," Thorne says, his voice husky. "This is ridiculous. Open the door."

Ridiculous? He thinks this whole situation is ridiculous?

"I said go away!" My voice cracks.

The silence that follows is deafening. Finally, I hear his heavy footsteps retreating down the hall.

Relief washes over me, fleeting but real. But it's quickly replaced by a crushing loneliness.

The night drags on, punctuated only by the occasional howl echoing from outside and the rustling of leaves against my window. Exhaustion finally wins over my anxieties, and I drift to a restless sleep.

I wake with a start, the sound of the door creaking open pulling me from my dreams. Disoriented, I squint at the sliver of moonlight filtering through the window.

"Elowen?" Thorne whispers, his voice barely audible.

I sit up, my heart pounding. This isn't the time for him to be here.

"What do you want?" I snap sharper than intended.

He enters the room, the moonlight illuminating his broad frame.

"Can we talk?" he asks.

I stare at him, my emotions a tangled mess of anger, hurt, and a strange yearning I refuse to acknowledge.

"There's nothing left to talk about."

"Elowen, please," he pleads. "Don't shut me out."

Shut him out? The irony of his words is almost comical.

"You already did that, Thorne," I say, my voice shaking. "When you rejected me."

The mention of the rejection hangs heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the chasm that now separates us.

Thorne flinches, his jaw clenching tight. "That was a mistake. A terrible mistake that I deeply regret."

Words, just empty words. They do little to ease the ache in my heart.

"Regret?" I scoff. "Is that all you have to say? Regret? After you crushed me, humiliated me in front of your entire pack?"

Tears prick my eyes, blurring my vision. I blink them back furiously. I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

"Elowen," Thorne sounds desperate. "You have to understand. This is bigger than us. The darkness is rising, and you…"

"Don't you dare!" I cut him off. "Don't you dare try to justify your actions by spouting some fantastical story. I'm not some key in your little game, Thorne. I'm a person—with feelings and a life you so conveniently ripped away from me!"

My outburst seems to take him aback. He stands there, speechless. Then, his expression hardens.

"Whether you like it or not, Elowen, you're in danger. And I won't let anything happen to you."

"Oh, and who decides that?" I throw my hands up in the air. "Is it you, the almighty Alpha? The protector of all things weak and helpless?"

Thorne's jaw clenches, and for a moment, I think he might yell back. But instead, he takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"No," he says finally, his voice low and controlled. "It's not about power. It's about protecting you. You're my mate, Elowen."

Mate. The word is a foreign concept wrapped in a familiar ache.

"Don't you dare call me that," I snap. "Not after what happened. You rejected me, Thorne. You made it clear I wasn't good enough for you."

There is pain in his eyes but also a glimpse of vulnerability. Then, he takes a step closer.

"Elowen," he says, "Believe me, I never wanted to reject you. The moment I felt the mate bond snap between us, it was like a part of me was ripped away."

My breath catches. Is he… admitting his feelings? I can't allow myself to believe that. He is cruel—not vulnerable.

"Then why did you do it, Thorne?" I whisper, unsure.

He hesitates, his eyes searching mine. Then, he sighs. "There's… more to it than I can explain right now. But trust me, Elowen, rejecting you was the hardest thing I've ever done."

A part of me wants to believe him—wants to feel the warmth of connection again. But the other part, the scarred and disillusioned part, remembers the sting of rejection.

Before I can respond, he takes another step closer, his presence filling the small room. His scent, a mix of pine and damp earth, washes over me. It's familiar and intoxicating.

"Elowen," he murmurs, "Don't shut me out."

He reaches out, his hand cupping the air around my face. My body aches for him to make that contact, but I draw away.

"Don't," I whisper.

He lowers his hand slowly, his gaze lingering on mine for a moment. But something dark and primal crosses his features. Suddenly, he grabs me, pulling me against his chest. The unexpectedness of it sends a jolt through me.

"Elowen," he growls, his voice thick with urgency. "Don't push me away."

He buries his face in my hair, inhaling my scent. My heart hammers against my ribs.

Before I can even think, my arms instinctively wrap around his back, clinging to him like a lifeline. In this unexpected embrace, all the anger and hurt seem to melt away.

There's a fierce possessiveness in his touch, a raw need that mirrors the storm brewing within me. He kisses my hair, then slowly trails his lips down my neck, his touch sending shivers down my spine.

A whimper escapes my lips, a sound both of fear and surrender. This is a dangerous path, one that threatens to unravel the fragile control I've held onto.

His palm cups my cheek, tilting my face up to his. His eyes, blazing with a mixture of desire and something I can't quite decipher, hold me captive.

"Elowen," he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. "Let me show you how I feel."

Then, his lips meet mine. It's a kiss unlike any I've ever experienced, filled with a raw intensity that takes my breath away. It's a desperate plea, a battle for dominance, and a surrender all rolled into one.

We devour each other, and the kiss unleashes a storm of emotions. Anger, hurt, confusion—it all melts away in the heat of his touch.

But just as quickly as it started, I pull away, gasping for breath. My head spins.

"No," I whisper, my voice ragged. Shame burns through me, hot and unwelcome. What was I thinking? Letting him kiss me, letting myself get lost in him again? It changes nothing.

Thorne stares at me, his expression unreadable.

"Elowen."

I take a step back, putting more distance between us. The air crackles with tension, thick with unspoken words and tangled desires.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be," I say. "This… this can't happen."

"Why not? Because of what happened before? Because I was an idiot?"

"Because of everything," I snap. "Because I'm a prisoner here, surrounded by people who hate me. Because you only want me now because it's convenient—because I'm supposedly this fated mate."

The accusation must sting because Thorne flinches.

"That's not true," he growls. "I care about you, Elowen. More than you can possibly imagine."

"Do you?" I challenge, feeling vulnerable, and sensitive to some other unidentified emotion.

"Yes," he says, his voice fierce. "But this is bigger than us. The darkness is spreading, and you…"

"Don't you dare! Don't you dare use that as an excuse. I'm not some pawn in your game, Thorne. I'm a person with my own life—my own choices."

Tears well up in my eyes. I blink them back furiously, refusing to let him see me cry.

"I don't care about some prophecy or darkness," I continue, my voice shaking. "I just want to go home. I want my life back."

A heavy silence descends upon the room. Thorne stares at me, his expression unreadable.

Finally, he says, "I understand. But I can't let you leave. Not yet. You're in danger, Elowen. And I won't let anything happen to you."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have brought me here in the first place," I argue. "Maybe you should have just let me live my life."

The words hang heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the choices that have brought us to this point.

Thorne looks away, his jaw clenched tight. Then, he turns towards the door, his voice barely a whisper when he says, "Get some rest, Elowen. We'll talk about this again in the morning."

He walks out of the room, leaving me alone with the tangled mess of emotions churning inside me.

Tears finally spill over, cascading down my cheeks. I curl up on the bed, burying my face in the pillow, and draw in the scent of pine and damp earth—the lingering trace of Thorne.

It's a bittersweet reminder of his kiss and the impossible situation I find myself in.