Chapter Four

Titan

Xerxes had refused any more lineups for the day and, I had to admit, I was relieved. My alpha and best friend was right—having females line up to be scented was no way to meet the person who was supposed to be made for you by Fate.

That was, if you believed in those things. The longer it took for us to find our mate, the more my belief shrank. We were all in our late twenties, and most males found their females when they came of age, about eighteen.

No wonder the council was on Xerxes’ ass.

Personally, I didn’t care for any of the reasons the pack had for wanting a luna. I was tired of sleeping in a bed without a female next to me—in my arms.

Sure, I could go out and get a female for a night or two and quell some of my need but for a few years now, I simply hadn’t seen the point. Sex with any other woman wouldn’t even come close to the same act with our mate.

Everything else was a cheap version of what could’ve been.

I had no other duties until late that night, and I didn’t want to hang around and hear the other pack members give me unsolicited advice on how to find my mate, so, a run would do.

Becoming my wolf and running him until my paws were sore and I was out of breath was one of the only things I had left that made me let go of some of the stress we were carrying. As though running a pack weren’t enough.

Poor Xerxes took the brunt of the council’s criticism, but we were all in this together.

No matter how much our alpha tried to refute the point, we all knew that having a luna, a female pivot for our triad, would balance our whole lives, even down to the pack members.

And…I was thinking about it again. Damn it.

I shed my clothes and let my wolf take over. Not long after, I was threading through groves of trees, avoiding some puddles, and splashing into others. The area beyond the pack lands was beyond gorgeous and we, as leaders, were allowed to run through those lands since most of it belonged to pack members. They were also allowed to run through our land, within reason and only if they played by the rules.

I took a turn toward the setting sun and almost immediately caught a scent in the distance. I skidded to a stop, kicking up dirt and grass in the process.

Closing my eyes, my wolf nose inhaled deeply. Cinnamon. Brown sugar. Nutmeg. Some of the best spices in the damned world.

While I recognized the spices from cinnamon rolls or cookie butter, I knew the scent wasn’t coming from any baked goods. No. Hovering below the more obvious scents was the unwavering perfume of a female.

Before I could decide whether or not to follow the scent, my beast made the decision for me. He sprinted on and off trails until we reached a meadow I’d never been to before. The tree branches arched over the clearing, and rare flowers bloomed in winding flower beds along the edges.

At the far end, beyond the rich landscaping, something far more beautiful caught my full attention.

A woman hummed a song while she tossed bucket after bucket into a rustic pen occupied by a pig grunting his appreciation. I watched in complete awe as she filled another bucket with water from a nearby pond and then made sure the giant of a hog was not thirsty.

My wolf stepped back in complete shock. I’d never seen her before. She had a scent of wolf, but it was so faint, that others might not be able to detect it. Her ragged clothes hung off her slim form. She was entirely too thin. Her cheeks gaunt. My wolf had chewed on small animal femurs thicker than her arms. A soft blush blessed her cheeks as the chill of winter wind blew, making her hair move around her.

Her lips were kissable.

Her eyes radiant.

The humming. The sound of it caressed me, touching parts I didn’t know had gone dormant.

I turned around, memorizing this place so I could try and find it again, but my wolf was drawn to the female. He wanted to drown in the sight of her. Except when I turned back, she was gone. Vanished from my life and my sight as fast as she came.

She wasn’t present at pack runs.

Not at pack meetings.

I didn’t even get a chance to ask her name.

The cinnamon cookie scent disappeared with her, and I was left empty, craving something and someone I’d never realized I needed.

My human brain kicked in, disrupting all the pressing thoughts from my wolf. There was no way. I didn’t believe in fated mates. People made choices. Love was a chemical reaction and nothing more.

We chose our fates—made our fates. Not the other way around.

My parents were the proof of that. My mother died in childbirth, having me. My father never once held me. He refused to look at me, or so I’d heard from others. A week later, he died—claimed there was no use in living a life without his mate.

That’s where believing in this shit led us—to heartache, pain, and anguish.

Xerxes should forget the whole prospect of a fated mate and pick someone to mate with. All of us could simply choose from one of the many females throwing herself at our feet.

It would be so easy.

Before my wolf left the meadow, he looked back and let out a whine.