Alpha Maddox Black stared at the small, trembling female before him, a storm of conflicting emotions raging within. Mate. The word, a primal roar from his own wolf, Shadow, resonated through his very bones. He hadn't wanted a mate. Not now, not ever. His pack, River Pine, was his sole focus, his responsibility. He'd built it from the ground up, a fortress of strength and loyalty, and a mate, especially one he'd found cowering from rogues on his borders, felt like a complication he couldn't afford.
Yet, looking at her, a fierce, protective instinct flared, hot and undeniable. Her scent, a delicate blend of wildflowers and something uniquely her own, was intoxicating, drawing his wolf closer than he'd ever thought possible. Her eyes, wide and a startling shade of green, held a deep, ancient fear, but also a flicker of something resilient, something unbreakable.
"Who are you?" Maddox demanded, his voice rougher than he intended. He watched her flinch, and a pang of something akin to regret shot through him. He hadn't meant to scare her.
Elara swallowed hard, her gaze darting to the prone rogues before returning to him. "Elara," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I… I was just passing through. I didn't know this was your land."
He scoffed internally. Passing through? She looked like she'd been running for days, her clothes torn, her face smudged with dirt. And the scent of Moonshadows Pack clung to her, faint but unmistakable. Thorne's pack. He knew Thorne. A pompous, self-righteous Alpha who ruled with an iron fist and a cold heart. What was one of his wolves doing on his territory, looking like a hunted animal?
"You're from Moonshadows," he stated, not a question.
Elara visibly stiffened, a shadow passing over her eyes. "I… I was adopted into their pack," she clarified, her voice gaining a touch of defiance. "I left."
Maddox's wolf, Shadow, nudged him, a low growl of approval. "She's ours. Protect her."
Maddox ignored Shadow, or tried to. The bond was already thrumming, a faint but insistent pull. He could feel her fear, her exhaustion, and something else… a subtle, almost imperceptible hum of power beneath her skin, like a dormant volcano. It was intriguing, and unsettling.
"You're injured," he noted, his gaze falling to her scraped knee. "Come. We need to get you to the infirmary." He didn't wait for her answer, already turning, his wolf form still a powerful presence in his mind. He expected her to follow, to obey.
Elara hesitated, her fear warring with a strange, burgeoning trust. This powerful Alpha, her fated mate, was also a stranger. But he had saved her. And the pull, the undeniable connection Lyra felt, was too strong to ignore. She limped after him, her gaze scanning the trees, a new kind of fear creeping in. The rogues were gone, but the threat felt far from over. She had escaped one prison, only to find herself unexpectedly bound to another, albeit one with silver eyes and a scent that promised both danger and salvation.
As they walked, a new scent drifted on the wind, faint but distinct. It wasn't rogues. It was Thorne's pack. They were searching. Elara's blood ran cold. She had left her abusive family, but they weren't letting her go so easily. And now, she was on the land of an Alpha who clearly didn't want a mate, caught between two powerful forces, with a destiny she barely understood. The Moon Goddess, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor.