Page 75 of My Fated Mate

"Elowen," he rasps, "Don't you…"

"Don't I what, Thorne?" I challenge, my voice shaking. "You had your chance, and you rejected me."

His eyes flicker with pain, the fight momentarily forgotten. "But that was…" he hesitates, searching for the right words. "That was a mistake. A misunderstanding."

"Was it?" I ask, my voice laced with a bitterness I can't quite control. "Or was it simply more convenient to push me away when things got complicated?"

Thorne opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. His gaze falls to the ground, shame etched across his features.

My heart aches for him, for the mess we've created. But the hurt runs too deep, the wounds still too raw. I'm not a possession to be claimed or discarded at his whim.

Taking a deep breath, I turn to Lela, who stands beside a bruised and bewildered Kain. Lela looks relieved when Kain shakes it off.

"Elowen," Thorne begins again, his voice hoarse, "I… I understand if you're angry. But please, give me a chance to make things right. Let me teach you about your powers."

The desperation in his plea tugs at something deep within me. But reason asserts itself. “You had your chance. It's time for me to learn from someone else."

“How… how long are you going to keep tormenting me like this, Elowen? I—”

The raw vulnerability in his eyes stabs at my heart, but I hold my ground. Maybe it's stubbornness, or maybe it's a desperate need to regain some control over my life. Whatever it is, I don't back down.

Thorne hangs his head in defeat, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Without another word, he turns and disappears into the dense foliage.

Should I just give in to him? I can’t keep handling all this pain. I’m torturing both of us.

I turn to look at Kain.

“Maybe… I should let Thorne teach me from now on.”

Chapter 21

THORNE

Steel against steel—a hollow symphony. I parry a blow from Rylan, the familiar weight of my sword a poor comfort in the vast void that stretches before me.

Each swing, each thrust, is devoid of passion, a mechanical response from a body fueled by muscle memory. The joy of combat, the thrill of the fight, has been replaced by a dull ache that eats at my insides.

A week. It's been a week since the night in the woods—a stolen night of rekindled passion fueled by the Mendshore Bloom and Elowen's heat. But dawn brought a harsh reality check. The wall between us remained as unyielding as ever.

Elowen has retreated into her icy indifference. No stolen glances, no lingering touches, just a polite distance that feelslike a physical manifestation of the fractured bond. It's as if the night never happened, a cruel illusion that leaves me yearning for something I can't have.

My frustration spills into my motions, each strike becoming more forceful, more desperate. Rylan, ever perceptive, parries my blows easily, his eyes filled with concern.

"Thorne," he says, his voice calm, "you're fighting like a man possessed. What's wrong?"

How can I explain the gaping hole in my chest, the echo of a love denied? "Nothing," I grunt, forcing a nonchalant shrug.

But Rylan isn't fooled. He lowers his sword. "Something is bothering you, Alpha. And it's affecting your training."

I want to lash out, to push him away. But Rylan is more than just my beta; he's a friend, a confidante. With a sigh, I lower my own sword.

"It's Elowen," I confess, the name a bitter whisper on my lips. "The night in the woods… it meant something to me. But…" I trail off, unable to voice the harsh reality.

Rylan nods, his expression filled with understanding. "And she?"

"Back to ignoring me like I don't even exist," I growl. "Like what happened under the moonlight was just a fleeting… mistake."

Rylan contemplates for a moment, then speaks quietly. "Perhaps it takes more than one night, Thorne. The bond might be mended, but the trust… that takes time."

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