Page 76 of My Fated Mate

His words offer little comfort. Time. A luxury I don’t have. Every day, the packs remain at odds, and the threat of the Dark Moon looming large feels like a countdown to a war we might not win.

And with each passing day, the fear of losing Elowen, not just to the Moonfall Pack but to her own guarded heart, grows stronger.

With renewed determination, I pick up my sword. Even if a night of solace were all I could ever hope for, I wouldn't give up on Elowen. Not without a fight.

The training ground blurs as I launch into a series of strikes, channeling my frustration, my longing, into each swing. Maybe I can't control Elowen's feelings, but I can damn well control mine. And for now, that will have to be enough.

"I need to be alone," I rasp when we’re through.

Rylan studies me. "Are you sure, Alpha?"

I nod curtly, unable to meet his gaze. The ache in my chest has morphed into a dull throb, a constant reminder of the night's fleeting intimacy and the crushing reality that follows.

Rylan sighs, sheathing his sword with a final nod before rejoining the training drills.

As soon as I’m away from the clearing, I sink onto a nearby log, burying my face in my hands.

A familiar scent jolts me. I snap my head up, hope battling despair.

There, standing a few paces away, is Elowen. She's clad in her training gear, her braid adorned with the same silver clasp that captivated me under the full moon. But the spark of defiance from that night is gone, replaced by a sadness that mirrors my own.

The connection between us pulses in the air. She watches me, her eyes shadowed with turmoil.

"Elowen," I manage after clearing my throat. "Do you need something?"

She shakes her head, her gaze lingering on me briefly before returning to the weapon rack.

Maybe she's right. Maybe throwing myself at her won't solve anything. Maybe…

But as the desire to stay, to talk, to simply be near her floods me, the reality of the situation slams me back down. It doesn't matter what I want. The wall between us remains, and Elowen isn't making any moves to dismantle it.

With a defeated sigh, I rise to my feet.

"I'll leave you to it then," I mumble.

Turning away, each step breaks my heart. But just as I take my third step, a soft voice stops.

"Thorne."

I freeze. Slowly, I turn back, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

She hasn't moved.

Her gaze is fixed on the ground, scuffing the dirt with the toe of her boot. The braid with the silver clasp brushes against her shoulder.

"Elowen?" I barely whisper.

She looks up. “Yes?”

“Y-you called me?”

"Actually, yes… yes I did," she hesitates, biting her lip.

The sight sends a jolt through me. I want to taste that lip.

“What is it?”

“Stay.”

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