Page 30 of My Fated Mate

He was injured, saving my father. Panic claws at my throat as I choke back a sob.

Without a word, I push through the throng of warriors, my eyes scanning the room frantically.

Finally, I spot a group of men carrying a stretcher towards a nearby chamber. There, on the stretcher, lies Thorne, his face pale and drawn, a bandage wrapped around his head.

Tears sting my eyes as a primal urge to reach him takes over. I ignore the concerned calls from the others, my legs propelling me forward in a desperate sprint.

Bursting into the room, I find Thorne unconscious on a bed, a healer tending to his wounds.

Relief washes over me, a wave so powerful it nearly knocks me off my feet.

He's alive.

Thank the Moon Goddess, he's alive.

Just as I'm about to rush to his side, a movement at the doorway catches my eye. There, framed in the entrance, walking slowly away is Finn. But he's not alone. He's holding another man close, their bodies entwined in a tight embrace.

Even from a distance, I recognize him. Viktar, the man Finn spoke of so fondly. A surge of joy washes over me—he's safe, just like Finn said.

Relief washes over me, a different kind this time. Finn's newfound love is safe, just like mine, I desperately hope.

Tears prick my eyes as I look back at Thorne, my voice thick with emotion. "Thorne," I say gently, my hand trembling as I reach out to touch his cheek.

Glancing around the room, I spot a basin of cool water and a washcloth near the cot. "May I?" I ask the attending healer, my voice raw.

She gives a curt nod. "Just be gentle, child. He needs rest," she says, then leaves.

As I start to clean the minor cuts and scrapes marring his face, my heart aches for him.

He looks so vulnerable lying there, his usual stoicism replaced by weary languor.

Suddenly, his eyelids flutter open, his gaze meeting mine.

His eyes are not heavy. They are clear, focused, and for a heart-stopping moment, I see a flicker of something deep within them, something that makes my breath catch in my throat.

But before I can decipher that emotion, a strangled cry escapes me. "You're awake! I thought you were unconscious. Do unconscious people wake up this soon?!" I gasp, tears brimming in my eyes.

Thorne frowns, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "Unconscious?" he echoes, his voice raspy. "Elowen, I was only sleeping."

"Sleeping?" I cough. "The healer said you were unconscious! I… I thought…" My voice breaks, the dam of my emotions finally crumbling. Tears stream down my face, and the relief of seeing him awake overwhelms me.

He reaches out a hand, his fingers brushing against my cheek. His touch is gentle, sending a spark of warmth through me. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice laced with concern. "It's alright. I'm fine. Just a bit banged up."

But I can't stop the tears.

The fear that had gripped me since the battle, the terror of losing him, it all comes flooding out in a torrent of sobs. He pulls me closer, his arm wrapping around my shaking form, offering silent comfort.

"It's okay," he whispers into my hair, his voice a soothing balm to my troubled soul. "I'm here now. You're safe."

His words, a gentle anchor in the storm of my emotions, slowly calm me. I release him from my desperate hold, wiping at my tear-streaked cheeks.

"Thank you," I choke out. "Thank you for being alive."

A flicker of something warm washes over his features, chasing away the pallor of exhaustion. "Always," he murmurs, his gaze holding mine with an intensity that makes my heart skip a beat.

"Now," I say, forcing a smile, "let me take care of those wounds."

He nods, a tired smile gracing his lips as I rise from the cot. Picking up the damp washcloth, I return to his side, my fingers trembling only slightly as I begin cleaning the superficial cuts adorning his chest.

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