Page 19 of My Fated Mate

Tentatively, I reach out, my hand hovering near her arm.

Despite the water temperature, her skin is warm and smooth beneath my touch. Her breath catches at the contact, and for a moment, the only sound is the gentle gurgle of the creek.

Her eyes, the color of twilight, meet mine, holding apprehension and something else—a spark of awareness that I feel myself.

"You shouldn't be here," she whispers, her voice barely audible above the night sounds.

"Perhaps not," I admit. "But fate seems to have other plans." My hand dips lower, brushing against the small of her back. The touch is electric, and her skin prickles.

She takes a step back, but I counter by stepping closer, caging her between me and the rocky bank.

The air crackles with unspoken desire, the moonlight a silent witness to the rising tension. I lean in, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath on my lips.

"Elowen," I murmur huskily.

Her eyes widen a flicker of fear battling with a dawning awareness. Her lips part slightly to speak, but before any words can escape, I close the distance between us.

Our kiss is tentative at first, a brush of lips dotted by the creek water. Then, as if a dam has broken, my control shatters.

I deepen the kiss, exploring the sweetness of her mouth, the taste both innocent and intoxicating. Her body melts against mine, a silent surrender that ignites a firestorm within me.

The cool water laps around us, a stark contrast to the heat building between our bodies. My hands explore the smooth curve of her back, tracing the line of her spine, sending shivers cascading down her skin.

A soft moan escapes her lips, a sound that fuels my desire even further.

But just as quickly as it begins, I pull away. The urgency in her kiss, the way her body presses against mine, is a stark reminder of what I need to do.

I need to check for the mark of the fated mate.

I don’t say a word. Instead, I stretch my hand to her and slowly, she takes it.

Then we drift in the cool embrace of the creek, the conversation flowing easier than I expected. Gone is the initial shock—goneis some of the arousal. It is replaced by a sense of comfortable companionship that surprises me.

Elowen speaks of the forest's flora with an infectious passion. She identifies each plant, rattling off their medicinal properties with a confidence that makes my chest swell in pride.

"This nightshade," she points to a cluster of delicate white flowers with dark purple stems, "can be deadly in the wrong hands, but a skilled healer can use it to create a potent pain reliever."

"And this?" I ask, brushing my hand against a spiky thistle.

"Burdock root," she replies softly. "Excellent for treating infections. Ground and mixed with honey, it's a staple in any healer's pouch." Her words spark a memory – pretty Ellie tending to my injured men, the pungent scent of a similar poultice filling the air.

Intrigued, I lean closer. "You seem to know a lot about healing plants. Isn't that typically a healer's domain?"

Elowen meets my gaze, a glint of defiance in her eyes. "Knowledge isn't reserved for a select few, Thorne. Especially when it comes to protecting those we care about." Her quiet strength washes over me.

We continue our conversation, the night deepening around us. She speaks of wolfsbane, its deadly effect on werewolves, and thedelicate balance of moonflower, its ability to soothe the savage urges during a full moon.

With every word, my admiration for her grows. She's not just beautiful; she's intelligent and resourceful, and she possesses a quiet strength that hints at a deeper connection to this world, one that might intertwine with the prophecy gnawing at my soul.

As dawn paints the sky with the softest blush of pink, a shiver runs through me.

Not just from the cool water but from a deeper chill that settles in my gut.

We've been talking for hours, it seems, lost in a world of moonflowers and healing poultices.

Elowen's knowledge is vast, and her passion for the forest's secrets is infectious.

The worry gnawing at me since waking has faded, replaced by a sense of comfortable companionship that surprises me.

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