Page 16 of My Fated Mate

But the prophecy… Can this woman who fills my every thought, whose touch sparks a firestorm within me, truly be the one destined to save the world?

Could she be the fated mate as well?

Throwing back the covers, I pace the room, the knot in the pit of my stomach tightening with each step.

A part of me wants to believe, desperately, that the prophecy and my desires have aligned. That somehow, impossibly, Elowen isboth. But another part, the more cautious one, urges me to tread carefully.

I need answers. I need to find out if the woman who stole my heart is also destined to be the key to our survival.

I pad to the bathroom, kicking away my clothes as I go.

The steam from the hot water carries away the remnants of sleep and the lingering scent of Elowen on my body.

I’m not sure I like that.

It washes off her scent but not the memory of her.

My mind keeps replaying her soft, satisfied smile after her orgasm and the way her eyes crinkled at the corners.

Shit.

I scrub harder.

Emerging from the bathroom, I throw on some clothes and, pushing open the heavy oak door, step into the bustling courtyard.

The crisp morning air bites at my skin, a refreshing reminder of the responsibilities waiting for me.

First stop, the healers' den.

Along the way, a gaggle of pups and their chaperone tumble across my path, their playful nips and yips earning a chuckle from me.

They spill over my feet, yipping playfully. I ruffle a few heads, earning me sloppy kisses and excited whines.

Their boundless energy is a welcome distraction.

"Hello, Alpha Thorne.” The bigger wolf greets. “My name is Bash. Headed somewhere?" A wolfish grin splits Bash's face.

He's somehow ended up sprawled on a sun-drenched rock, a couple of pups playfully gnawing on his boots.

"Hello, Bash, yes, please, could you show me the way to the healer’s den?" I reply, offering a curt nod.

The pups yelp and scatter as I approach. The ones around my feet follow me, their tails wiggling in excitement.

My heart soars with joy at the sight of them. Strong, happy, and playful pups mean a prosperous future for the pack.

"Those darn pups," Bash mutters, brushing dirt off his boots. "Always after my shoelaces." He gives a playful swat at one daring pup who lingers too close.

"The healer is that way.” He points and then smiles at me again. “I heard the injured are mending well. The healer said a few more days, and they'll be back on their feet."

"That's good." Relief washes over me, a temporary distraction from my internal struggle.

Thank the goddess.

We can't exactly afford to be down two enforcers with that rogue pack sniffing around like fucking viruses.

And this is why I can’t afford to fucking waste time. I need to find the fated mate as soon as possible.

I give a small nod. “Thank you, Bash, you have my gratitude.”

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