6. ELOWEN

Chapter 6

ELOWEN

The lingering taste of mint and something wilder, something uniquely Thorne, still clings to my lips.

I lick them again, the memory sending a jolt straight to my core. One stolen kiss under the cloak of night shouldn't have this much power.

Sunlight streams through the window, dappling my room with warmth.

I groan, burying my head deeper into the pillows.

Sleep had evaded me last night, chased away by the replay of stolen glances, whispered secrets, and the searing heat of his touch.

A commotion outside my window pulls me from my tangled thoughts. I peek through the thin curtains to see Thorne leading his men in a rigorous training session.

Dawn paints the sky in hues of orange and pink, casting long shadows as they lunge and parry, the metallic clang of swords echoing through the crisp morning air.

He moves with a predatory grace that sends a shiver down my spine. Every muscle in his body ripples with power and control, starkly contrasting the arrogance that often clouds his features.

Here, on the training grounds, he's in his element, a leader who commands respect and inspires loyalty.

And then my traitorous gaze dips lower.

Damn him.

Even through the loose training leathers, the outline of his broad chest and muscular thighs is impossible to ignore.

Heat pools low in my belly despite the cool morning air.

This can't be happening.

I'm promised to another, a future Alpha whose possessiveness borders on psychotic.

The thought of Kain's cold gaze sends a tremor of disgust through me.

But then I remember Thorne's touch and how his gaze held mine. Electricity sparked between us.

It was wrong, forbidden, yet undeniably intoxicating.

Mates.

The word hangs heavy in the air, a silent accusation.

The goddess may have pointed Thorne towards me, but fate has a cruel sense of humor.

A growl rips from my throat, startling me. Frustration and desire war within me, a jumbled mess with no easy answers. I clench my fists, the fabric of the curtains digging into my palms.

Thorne throws his head back and lets out a triumphant roar echoing across the training grounds.

It scares and excites me—a primal call that resonates deep within my core.

This is madness.

I shouldn't be watching him like this or letting myself crave the impossible. Yet, here I am, a helpless prisoner of my own desires.

Taking a deep breath, I turn away from the window.

With a sigh that escapes my lips in a rush, I turn back towards the room, the image of Thorne's powerful form burned into my memory.

Today won't wait, and neither can I.

Pushing thoughts of Thorne aside for now, I head toward the wardrobe.

Dressing becomes a deliberate act, each movement imbued with a silent defiance. I choose my favorite outfit, the forest green tunic that accentuates the green flecks in my eyes.

I braid my hair with an elaborate weave, plaiting in silver ribbons that shimmer in the morning light.

Maybe it's foolish, this attempt to feel a sliver of control amidst the chaos, but it's all I have.

Stepping back, I survey the reflection in the mirror—a warrior princess, strong and beautiful, even if the battle I face is one I can't win.

Before breakfast, I head down the hallway towards my father's den. The low murmur of voices filters through the heavy oak door.

Pausing, I steal a glance through the crack, catching a glimpse of my father deep in conversation with the Elders. Their faces are etched with worry, causing a familiar knot to form in my stomach.

They disperse with a final nod, and I push open the door, announcing my presence with a soft, "Father?"

He turns with a weary smile. "Elowen, my dear. Come in, come in." He gestures to a chair near the crackling fire, the warmth a welcome contrast to the gnawing unease within.

We exchange pleasantries, a small haven of normalcy within the growing storm. His eyes, however, hold a flicker of concern that my attempt at cheerfulness cannot mask.

"You look lovely today," he comments, his gaze lingering on my outfit a moment longer than usual. "Though a bit…dressed up for a simple breakfast."

A blush creeps up my neck. "Just felt like putting a little effort in, that's all." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.

He raises an eyebrow, his smile not reaching his eyes. "Is something on your mind, Elowen?"

The question hangs heavy in the air. Can I tell him about Thorne? About the impossible pull, the destined mate that mocks my reality? No. He wouldn't understand.

Instead, I voice the worry that has been festering since the news arrived. "Kain. We haven't heard from him. What if…"

My voice trails off, the unspoken fear hanging in the air like a specter. My father sighs, a deep rumble that speaks volumes.

"That's what worries me too, child. We sent a scouting party, but they returned empty-handed. No sign of him, not a single clue."

A cold dread washes over me.

Kain's possessiveness is a constant threat, and his unpredictable nature chills me to the bone. But if he's missing, then the danger is close.

Besides that, the thought of him learning about Thorne, about the undeniable connection that sparked between us, makes a cold knot form in my stomach.

"We'll find him, Elowen," my father says firmly despite the worry in his eyes. "But in the meantime, you need to be extra careful. Kain is not a man to be trifled with."

I nod, my heart pounding against my ribs.

Careful.

How can I be careful when the very ground beneath my feet seems to be shifting?

"Okay," I manage hoarsely before turning to leave the den.

The rest of the morning is a blur of activity. I throw myself into training exercises, the familiar weight of the sword in my hand a grounding force.

I work alongside the healers, tending to minor injuries and lending a hand with their chores—anything to keep my mind occupied.

Breakfast is a tense affair. Everyone steals glances towards the empty seat at the head of the table, reserved for the Alpha. My father maintains a stoic facade, but I see the worry etched around his eyes.

Afternoon comes but throughout it all, the memory of Thorne lingers. His laughter echoes in my mind, the warmth of his touch a phantom sensation on my skin. Every stolen glance, every whispered word, plays on a loop in my head.

Without news from Kain, the tension continues through lunch. The silence is punctuated by the clinking of silverware.

Finally, dinner time arrives. The large dining hall is filled with the murmur of conversation as the pack gathers around the long tables. I scan the room, my breath catching in my throat.

He's not here. Relief washes over me, followed by a pang of disappointment I quickly shove down.

Just as I'm about to excuse myself from the table, the heavy oak doors to the dining hall swing open. Conversations die down, replaced by a hush that falls over the room. All eyes turn towards the entrance.

There, silhouetted against the moonlight, stands Thorne. Even from a distance, he commands attention, his broad frame and powerful aura filling the room.

His gaze sweeps across the room, and our eyes meet.

A jolt shoots through me, a tangible connection that sparks a blush on my cheeks.

Oh lord.

He offers a curt nod to my father and then, defying all expectations, walks straight towards me.

My breath catches in my throat. This is completely unexpected.

Heads swivel as he pulls out the chair beside me, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He sits close enough for our shoulders to brush, the scent of pine and mountain air intoxicating.

Heat floods my cheeks. I can practically feel the eyes of the entire pack burning into us. This is insane.

But as I steal a glance at Thorne, his eyes gleam with amusement and something else I can't quite decipher. It pulls me towards him with an undeniable force.

The mate bond roars to life within me, a primal urge to be close, to claim him as mine. I fight the urge to lean into him, to bury my face in the comforting scent of pine and woodsmoke that clings to him.

My cheeks burn under his scrutiny, and I know I must look like a lovesick fool.

This can't happen.

This shouldn't be happening.

But the raw, undeniable pull towards Thorne seems to defy logic and reason.

Trapped between duty and desire, I force a weak smile, the taste of ash in my mouth. This is going to be a very long night.

"The training grounds were particularly lively this morning," Thorne remarks casually, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

My breath hitches. Did he notice me watching him?

Heat creeps up my neck, and I force myself to focus on my plate, spearing a piece of roasted vegetables with unnecessary focus.

"Especially lively," I mumbled. "Seems someone enjoys a good challenge."

The corner of his mouth lifts in a slight smirk. "Indeed," his whisper is husky. "Though some challenges are more… stimulating… than others."

My cheeks burn.

He is playing with me, and a dangerous thrill snakes through me. "Careful, Alpha Thorne. Don't underestimate the challenges you might find here."

"Underestimate?" he echoes, his gaze meeting mine with a glint of defiance. "Perhaps you haven't witnessed the full extent of my determination, Elowen."

The space between us crackles with unspoken tension, a delicious dance that only we can see.

And while the pack around us doesn't understand the words exchanged, they can't help but sense the tension between us.

I shouldn't talk to him.

Do I stop? No.

The candlelight dances playfully across Thorne's features as he leans closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "There's a certain fire in your eyes tonight, Elowen," he murmurs, his gaze dropping from my eyes to the elegant curve of my neck.

My heart hammers against my ribs. Surely, everyone can hear it. "Perhaps," I force a lightness to my voice that I don't feel, "it's just the candlelight."

A slow smile spreads across his face. "Candlelight, or something more?" his whisper sends goosebumps erupting across my arms. "Perhaps the prospect of a challenging conversation with a captivating companion?"

Heat floods my cheeks, and I fight the urge to glance around.

Surely, the others must be noticing the charged atmosphere between us. Can they detect the unspoken desire?

"A challenging conversation, huh? And what exactly would we discuss, Alpha Thorne?"

"Well, that depends. Are you feeling more philosophical tonight, or perhaps in the mood for something a little more… playful?"

His words are a delicious tease, and I find myself leaning in slightly, captivated by the amusement in his eyes.

"Playful?" I echo. "Isn't that a bit… dangerous, Alpha? Considering the weight of our circumstances?"

"Perhaps," he concedes, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind my ear. "But then again, haven't we both always had a penchant for living on the edge? Did I guess wrong?"

His touch, feather-light yet undeniably electric, lingers even after he withdraws his hand.

"Living on the edge," I rasp. "Or perhaps it's just the undeniable connection between two… compatible souls."

A triumphant glint lights his eyes.

"Compatible indeed," he murmurs, his gaze dropping to the full curve of my lips. "And sometimes, Elowen, the most important battles are those fought not on a battlefield, but in the quiet moments… like this."

My breath hitches, caught between the thrill of danger and the undeniable yearning that courses through me.

He is flirting with me, blatantly and shamelessly, and a reckless part of me welcomes it.

Yet, the weight of reality presses down on me.

"Thorne," I whisper, "what are your plans? For me?"

His gaze lingers on my lips for a beat too long before he finally meets my eyes.

Just as he opens his mouth to speak, the heavy oak doors to the dining hall burst open with a bang.

Everyone gasps, startled by the sudden interruption. A tall, imposing figure strides into the room, his face a mask of fury. It's Kain.

"Elowen!" he bellows, his voice echoing through the hall. "There you are! I've been searching everywhere for you." His gaze sweeps the table, landing on me and, inevitably, on Thorne.

A dangerous glint enters his eyes. "And who is this—" he starts, but Thorne cuts him off with a low growl.

"The Alpha of the Silver Crescent," Thorne retorts, his voice laced with steel. "And you would be…?"

"Her future husband," Kain snarls, his hand possessively snaking around my waist. "Now, if you'll excuse us—"

My stomach lurches in disgust. The possessiveness in his touch, the arrogance in his voice—it all sends a wave of nausea washing over me.

Thorne's eyes narrow. The air crackles with hostility, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. "Husband?" he echoes in disbelief.

"Indeed," Kain smirks, his gaze darting between me and Thorne with cruel amusement. "An arrangement that was well underway before you arrived on the scene, Alpha."

Fury explodes in Thorne's eyes, a fierce possessiveness.

He can't possibly… Can he?

The silence stretches on, thick with unspoken emotions. The pack members exchange nervous glances, some afraid of the impending confrontation.

Thorne's eyes narrow, his jaw clenched tight—a primal possessiveness flares within him.

The silence is broken only by the rasp of Kain's smug laughter. His gaze sweeps over the crowd, finally landing on my father, who has cautiously stepped forward.

"Alpha Eamon!" Kain booms with false joviality. "There you are! I was beginning to wonder if your pack had forgotten our little… agreement."

My father's expression remains stoic, but I see a flicker of worry in his eyes. "Kain," he says, his voice firm. "Perhaps we can discuss this privately—"

Kain cuts him off with a dismissive snort. "Privately? What's there to discuss? I've come to claim my bride, as per the agreement." His gaze snaps back to me, his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger. "Unless, of course," he drawls, his voice laced with suspicion, "you've decided to renege on your word, Alpha Eamon?"

A murmur of worry ripples through the pack as my father opens his mouth to speak. However, before he can utter a word, Thorne steps forward.

My breath hitches as I watch him.

His face is a mask of controlled fury, his eyes blazing with a power that makes me tremble.

For a moment, I see a glimpse of the fierce warrior beneath the Alpha's facade.

"There will be no claiming," Thorne growls, his voice a low rumble that resonates through the room. "And there will be no bride."

Kain scoffs, but the amusement has vanished from his eyes, replaced by a dawning comprehension. "What do you mean?" he spits.

Thorne doesn't reply. Instead, he raises his voice as it echoes through the hall. "Men of the Dark Luna! You will stand down and return to your territory. This is no concern of yours."

A ripple of unease passes through Kain's men, their eyes darting nervously between the two Alphas.

They clearly sense the power emanating from Thorne, a power that demands obedience.

Kain, however, seems unfazed. "Who are you to give me orders?" he bellows, his hand tightening possessively on my arm.

But before Kain can react, Thorne's eyes flash with an icy intensity.

"By the Urka , you trespass on foreign soil," he booms, his voice echoing through the hall. "Stand down and return to Dark Luna lands. This matter does not concern your pack."

The word "Urka" hangs heavy in the air, a primal word whispered through generations, a term signifying the ancient law established by the first werewolf king.

It speaks of respect for territorial boundaries and the dire consequences of transgression.

Kain's men exchange nervous glances. The weight of the Urka is not something to be trifled with. Even Kain seems momentarily stunned.

The bravado falters, replaced by a flicker of fear in his eyes. The grip on my arm loosens, his swagger crumbling under the force of Thorne's alpha authority, backed by the power of the ancient law of Urka.

A strangled gasp escapes Kain's lips. His face contorts in fear and fury, and he drops my arm altogether. Cowed by the sudden display of power, his men begin to back away.

Urka is a word used only by people related to the werewolf king or people with very high status.

Who is he?

With a final glare at Thorne, Kain turns and stalks out of the hall, his men following like frightened pups. The silence that descends is thick with tension, broken only by the sound of the heavy oak doors groaning shut.

Before I can even thank Thorne, he abruptly excuses himself from the table. His face is unreadable, just a stony mask.

Confused and worried, I watch him stride out of the dining hall. His abrupt departure leaves a hollow ache in my chest.

I want to understand, to know what he is thinking, what he is feeling.

Catching Finn's eye across the room, I see him gesture subtly toward the direction Thorne had disappeared. Then, Finn makes a motion with his hand.

Calm down, give him time.