Page 38 of My Fated Mate

As I listen to them, especially Viktar, I can't help but draw parallels to Thorne.

Both men possess a quiet strength, a deep loyalty to their pack, and a vulnerability they keep tightly guarded.

I know what I’m doing. Trying vicariously to get closer to understanding Thorne through Viktar, but the truth is that Thorne is like no other wolf I’ve ever met.

Why am I like this? Ugh.

I sigh tiredly. I should just forget about him and leave him alone, right?

In the afternoons, I help out with various tasks around the pack – tending to the herb garden, assisting the healers with minor chores, and even joining the women in their weaving sessions.

I’m trying hard to get Thorne out of my mind, and I kid you not—nothing is working.

Every rustle of leaves sends me swiveling my head, expecting to see his broad form emerge from the trees.

Every booming command that echoes from the training grounds has my pulse racing, a foolish hope clinging to the possibility that it might be his voice.

Doomed.

That’s what I am.

"This is ridiculous," I mutter, fumbling with a stubborn knot on a fishing net I'm mending alongside Viktar. He chuckles, a warm sound that momentarily soothes the churning in my stomach.

"What's got you in a tangle?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"It's nothing." I avoid his gaze.

Nothing I could share, certainly.

Not this inexplicable fixation on a man who seems to be doing his best to remain emotionally unavailable.

Except… that night. His touches, everything… The memory of it, scorching and passionate, sends a blush creeping up my neck. "Thorne," I blurt out before I can stop myself. "Is… is he always this… distant?"

Viktar's smile falters slightly, replaced by a thoughtful frown.

He pauses for a moment, considering his answer. "Thorne," he finally says, his voice low, "is… intense. He throws himself wholeheartedly into everything he does, be it leading the pack or facing down a rogue wolf. Emotions… well, let's just say they're not his forte."

Disappointment washes over me, a bitter tide threatening to drown me. "But the…" I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper. "It felt… more than just…"

Viktar chuckles again, a gentle sound that eases my tension. "Oh, Thorne can be passionate, alright."

He winks, his easygoing nature a stark contrast to Thorne's stoicism. "Look, Elowen," he continues, his voice turning serious, "don't take it personally. That's just Thorne. He cares deeply for the pack, for his warriors. He shows it in his actions, even if his words are few."

A seed of doubt begins to bloom in my mind. Have I misinterpreted the situation entirely? Was I clinging to a fleeting moment of passion, mistaking it for something deeper?

"So," I say finally, forcing a smile, "I guess I just need to learn to… decipher his gruffness then?"

Viktar grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Exactly. Give him time, Elowen. Thorne might be a walking wall of stoicism, but trust me, there's a good man under there. He just needs… well, a little nudge in the right direction sometimes."

A sliver of hope flickers within me, a fragile flame battling against the growing tide of uncertainty.

Perhaps Viktar is right. Perhaps all I need is a little more patience.

And maybe, just maybe, Thorne will eventually find his way out of the emotional fortress he's built around himself.

Chapter 11

THORNE

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