Page 87 of The Cursed Wolf King

The thought was ironclad, unshakable. My wolf growled her agreement, the connection between us humming with renewed strength. Logan might think he had to do this by himself, but he didn’t understand. He couldn’t.

Because I was his fated mate. And that meant I was his partner in all things—even in pain. Even in a curse. Even in this goodbye.

Goodbye.

Logan leaned in, brushing a kiss against my neck, the warmth of his lips sending a shiver through me. “Be safe,” he murmured, his voice soft but commanding.

“I should be saying that to you,” I whispered back, barely holding back the tears threatening to spill out.

His hand grazed my collarbone, then moved down my arm, over the place where that smudge of a Heraclid mark stained me.

He froze, his fingers brushing over ridges that I had never felt before. I looked to the place where he was outlining the pack mark with his fingers, each touch sending a wave of energy through my body.

I couldn’t believe what I saw.

The mark was changed. Or changing. Like a painting in process, it was unfinished.

A faint glow pulsed beneath his touch, and his expression transformed into something almost reverent.

He ran his thumb over the mark one last time and I felt lightheaded at the pulsing sensation.

“When I get back,” he looked at me so intently I was sure he could see my soul, “we’ll finish this. You and me.”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the trees as a single tear rolled down my cheek.

Goodbye.

39

LOGAN

The roar of the motorcycle beneath me was usually enough to drown out my thoughts, to channel everything into a sharp sense of focus on the road ahead. Not tonight. My head was swimming, my vision blurring as the rain-slick highway stretched endlessly ahead. The ache in my chest grew stronger with every beat of my heart.

It was as if I had to be physically away from Eve in order to not hurt, but the farther I got from her, the less I was myself.

My wolf growled, irritated, as if he, too, couldn’t make sense of the mess we were in. The bond with Eve burned like a brand.

According to all the stories, fated mates weren’t supposed to feel this way. We were supposed to become something more when we were together. To fulfill our destined future together was to create a connection stronger than titanium—we weren’t supposed to weaken each other.

And yet, here I was, barely holding on.

My hands trembled against the handlebars, and the bike wobbled slightly as I swerved too close to the shoulder. Rhys accelerated in front of me and turned back, his headlight reflecting against the wet road. His hand shot up, signaling for me to pull over.

I gritted my teeth as I slowed the bike to a stop. Rhys parked his bike a few feet ahead and jogged back, his boots crunching on the gravel shoulder as he removed his helmet.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” he shouted over the pounding rain, and tapped the helmet on my head. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

I didn’t answer immediately, trying to pull air into my lungs. My body felt too heavy, like I was carrying double my own weight, and my wolf clawed despite my commanding him to relax.

“Logan,” Rhys said. “Talk to me.”

I ran a hand down my face, the cold rain biting against my skin. “It’s the bond,” I said hoarsely. “Ever since Eve and I started sealing it, I don’t feel like myself. I’m off.”

“Off?” Rhys repeated, his brow furrowing.

I nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. “It’s pain. It’s like… I don’t know, like something’s tearing me apart from the inside and the outside at once. And yet another part of me is finally at peace in a way I didn’t know possible. It’s an internal battle. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“Fuck,” Rhys cursed, running a hand through his wet hair. “You should’ve told me this sooner.”

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