Page 21 of My Fated Mate

Damn him.

Even through the loose training leathers, the outline of his broad chest and muscular thighs is impossible to ignore.

Heat pools low in my belly despite the cool morning air.

This can't be happening.

I'm promised to another, a future Alpha whose possessiveness borders on psychotic.

The thought of Kain's cold gaze sends a tremor of disgust through me.

But then I remember Thorne's touch and how his gaze held mine. Electricity sparked between us.

It was wrong, forbidden, yet undeniably intoxicating.

Mates.

The word hangs heavy in the air, a silent accusation.

The goddess may have pointed Thorne towards me, but fate has a cruel sense of humor.

A growl rips from my throat, startling me. Frustration and desire war within me, a jumbled mess with no easy answers. I clench my fists, the fabric of the curtains digging into my palms.

Thorne throws his head back and lets out a triumphant roar echoing across the training grounds.

It scares and excites me—a primal call that resonates deep within my core.

This is madness.

I shouldn't be watching him like this or letting myself crave the impossible. Yet, here I am, a helpless prisoner of my own desires.

Taking a deep breath, I turn away from the window.

With a sigh that escapes my lips in a rush, I turn back towards the room, the image of Thorne's powerful form burned into my memory.

Today won't wait, and neither can I.

Pushing thoughts of Thorne aside for now, I head toward the wardrobe.

Dressing becomes a deliberate act, each movement imbued with a silent defiance. I choose my favorite outfit, the forest green tunic that accentuates the green flecks in my eyes.

I braid my hair with an elaborate weave, plaiting in silver ribbons that shimmer in the morning light.

Maybe it's foolish, this attempt to feel a sliver of control amidst the chaos, but it's all I have.

Stepping back, I survey the reflection in the mirror—a warrior princess, strong and beautiful, even if the battle I face is one I can't win.

Before breakfast, I head down the hallway towards my father's den. The low murmur of voices filters through the heavy oak door.

Pausing, I steal a glance through the crack, catching a glimpse of my father deep in conversation with the Elders. Their faces are etched with worry, causing a familiar knot to form in my stomach.

They disperse with a final nod, and I push open the door, announcing my presence with a soft, "Father?"

He turns with a weary smile. "Elowen, my dear. Come in, come in." He gestures to a chair near the crackling fire, the warmth a welcome contrast to the gnawing unease within.

We exchange pleasantries, a small haven of normalcy within the growing storm. His eyes, however, hold a flicker of concern that my attempt at cheerfulness cannot mask.

"You look lovely today," he comments, his gaze lingering on my outfit a moment longer than usual. "Though a bit…dressed up for a simple breakfast."

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