Page 8 of Crescent Warrior

“Perhaps we were wrong,” Castor chuckled, groaning as he stood, his hand moving to hold his side where he had been kicked. “You are getting more vicious. Good. The Bloodthirsty do not hold back. Neither should you.”

Pollux was holding his bleeding nose in his hands but grinning at him all the same. “You are ready, son. Let us go further into the forest and see if we can find any scents.”

Today would be his first real hunt. All three of them were scheduled for patrol. The twins usually led separate shifts but decided to join him in case he needed help. Cole loved them both, grateful for everything they were doing for him.

It has been months since his best friend left him behind, but he was so much stronger now. He let his transformation take over just as his uncles did the same. The three wolves were huge, Cole’s wolf finally the same size as the other two.

Running forward into the forest, he led the charge, but a scent from the direction of their homes sidetracked him. Confused, he slowed, Castor and Pollux sending him thoughts of support across their mental bond.

All Werewolves were connected in that way. They didn’t need words. Images and thoughts were transferred to the others so they could all know where to be during a hunt. The highest-ranking wolf gave orders. In this case, that was Pollux.

Castor shoved Cole in the side, trying to get him going in the right direction. He pushed back, raising his muzzle toward the scent that was wrapping around his senses, calling to him.

Mine.

His wolf growled as he stilled. His mate. He could smell his mate. He telegraphed this across their pack-bond and his uncles celebrated, sending wishes of good luck his way. Sprinting toward the scent, he felt a sharp pain in his chest.

If I find my mate, how can Lyta ever be mine?

His wolf didn’t care, racing across the miles to find the scent that called to him. It was faint, which was odd, but he still ran until he arrived at the house where it was the strongest. He faltered now, shocked to his core.

Lyta’s house.

He pushed his way inside, having repaired their front door. He was trying to keep everything the same for when he could convince her to return. He searched the darkness for a presence but found none.

Moving forward, his wolf was drawn to the one area of the house he was most familiar with. His best friend’s bedroom. Bracing himself for who he would find there, he wasn’t prepared for it to be empty.

Confused, he spun, surrounded by the scent of his mate. As realization slowly entered his mind, he stilled, his heart shattering.

Lyta. Lyta is my mate.

He had denied her, lied to her, and now, he had lost her. Moving to the bed, despair and loss filling his entire being, he fell onto it, turning his nose to her pillow, inhaling her sweet scent.

Present day

Hippolyta opened her inbox, immediately deleting the e-mails from Cole that were not related to training or information about their upcoming trip to Greece. She started a new e-mail and quickly typed,

Do not contact me again.

The message was short, not having changed from the first time she replied to a letter from him over a century ago. He was so excited to realize that she was his mate, the letter thick with words.

When she read it, she cried her eyes out at what could have been, and then returned a simple note with the same words she was sending now. Nothing more than a scrap of paper, the ink smudged and shoved into the hands of the human messenger that was sent between the packs.

After that, she never read any more of his letters. She wanted nothing to do with him, already determined to be the first Werewolf to live without her mate.

He would never again be given the power to break her. She made herself strong; the strongest in the pack, except for their king; and she was irreplaceable. The most capable Elite Warrior. She didn’t need anything from him.

Still, memories assailed her. His face, once so precious to her, was still clear in her mind. Her wolf was obsessed with him, clawing at her to return, and her heart ached with wanting him, but she fought it. Every day, the struggle grew.

Now that she was returning to Greece, her body and mind were going into overdrive, imagining him and craving him. She tried training harder, sparring more often, and pushing herself too hard, but it all seemed futile.

Rubbing her eyes, she moved to her bed, ignoring the other e-mails. She was finally exhausted and she figured she might be able to get some rest without seeing him in her dreams.

Falling face forward onto the bed, she drifted to sleep, her unfocused mind immediately conjuring him. Memories of a time she wished she could forget returning to haunt her.

“Come on,” she whispered, giggling and tugging at Cole’s hand.

He grinned at her, that heartbreaker smile that made her weak at the knees. She hid her reaction as she always did, hurrying into the forest to their favorite spot, a clearing they found when they were younger and used to practice their transformation.

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