The Wizard's Rogue Mate

The tree line is steady, leaves still, birds quiet. A yellow sun is slowly drifting out of the sky, diving behind the mountains a few days walk from here. I stretch my legs out in front of me, keeping eye contact with the forest. The metal of the blade hidden on my belt jabs slightly at my thigh, but I ignore it. That dagger is my favourite possession, hand crafted and polished, with wood from an old oak tree. With every kill of a pack wolf, I etch another notch on the side of the wood. There are too many to count now, at least three hundred small indents. Snap. My heart flutters and a smile makes its way onto my face. This is the reason I always volunteer for the evening shift, that’s when all the pack wolves come out looking for trouble. The unmated ones, that is. So pathetic they can’t even save themselves for their mates. But it’s more fun for me. “Hey!” A man shouts from in the forest. Wetting my dry lips, I pull my knees to my chest and put on my most vulnerable face; that always gets them over to our territory. A poor, innocent, abandoned girl who will do anything she can to get help. “H-hello?” I stutter out, calling into the trees. My throat is naturally hoarse from not drinking any water in the past few hours, but it all helps with the act. A dark figure emerges from the trees, his hands shoved carelessly in his pockets as he walks over, tan skin glinting in the light of the setting sun. This one has blonde hair, blue eyes and a cocky smile. Sweatpants barely cover his thighs and he’s not wearing a shirt. Of course, he doesn’t actually care about me. Pack wolves look down on rogues. He’s just looking for a fun time. The only person who will be smiling at the end of this, however, will be me. Is it bad that the mere thought of my knife embedded in his flesh gives me butterflies? “Hey there, sweetheart, what are you doing all the way out here?” He asks smugly, crouching down to make eye contact with me as I stay sat on the floor, faking shaking. He’s not quite over our border yet, but he will be in a minute. Killing a pack wolf outside of pack boundaries who isn’t a direct threat is against our laws, but if he enters our territory then it’s technically trespassing. So his death will be justified. “I can’t remember.” I mumble, letting a fake tear stray down my face. Absolute lies, but the wolf seems to be buying it. “My parents were killed. They ambushed us… I-I…” Again, lies. My parents were killed by pack wolves, but this guy doesn’t know it. “Shh, it’s okay. My name’s Bex, do you need some help?” “I’m Rose. I think my ankle is broken, I can’t move it.” I cry out, batting my eyelashes at him. Rose has always been the name I use for this type of thing. It’s the most innocent one I could think of. He only nods at me before stepping over the invisible line separating our territory from the space in-between us and the pack over. That’s right, prick. He offers a hand down to me which I take, letting out a small phoney whimper as I go. I fall into him and he catches me easily, smirking. “I’ll take you back to mine and warm you up.” He speaks in what I’m guessing is meant to be a seducing manner. Now all I have to do is wait for the right time to make my move. “Okay, thank you so much.” I gush, making myself sound desperate. He places one of his arms over my shoulders to help me walk on my ‘broken’ ankle. “What ranking are you in the pack?” “I’m a warrior in training.” Bex replies proudly, standing up a little straighter. I stop suddenly, lusting for his blood now. I don’t want him to leave the territory before I taste his blood, that would lie badly with my reputation. “Oh, that’s funny.” I chuckle to myself. Bex raises an eyebrow, confused at my sudden choice of words. “And why would that be funny?” He questions, almost sounding offended, which only makes me smile more. “I’m a warrior too.” I pause, pulling the knife from my belt that gleams in the light from the rising moon. The wolf’s eyes widen as he looks from me to the knife. “A rogue warrior.” I add with another, more demonic laugh. “Rose-” he starts, fear evident in his voice. I have him just where I want him and he knows it. One move in the wrong direction, and there will be a blade in his body. “My name is not Rose, you bastard.” I walk over slowly, circling him so I might have some chance of a fight. But I don’t, because his moves are floppy and uncoordinated. After a few seconds of aimless punches and lunges at me that I easily dodge, I bring my knee up to his stomach causing him to stumble to the ground. Obviously, this ‘warrior’ hasn’t got very far in his training yet. He jumps up scowling, but with pain etched into his glassy eyes. “Aww, does the big bad pack wolf want to try hurting me again?” I coo, smiling at him sweetly. “Go on, I’ll take it easy on you.” I add, spreading my arms out to show him that I’m serious. With a c****d eyebrow and a frown, Bex starts stalking around me until he’s standing directly behind my frame. Lowering my arms, I bring a hand up to my chin in fake contemplation. “Now, where did he go?” I question sarcastically, hearing the snapping of a few blades of grass behind me. My hearing is so focused on his moves that I can sense his foot lifting from the ground, clearly not wanting to go down without a fight. Quickly recalling a move my dad showed me before he died, I lift my legs up to do a backflip over him, landing neatly behind him so that we’re in the reversed positions from a few seconds ago. That’s when the yelling starts. It’s far away, but slowly getting closer. I’m guessing it’s his little pack coming to look for him, so reluctantly I decide that I’ve probably had enough fun for the night. I jump forward and pin him to the ground, one leg either side of his chest. He looks completely terrified. Ah, yes. Dragging the tip of the blade slowly down from the base of his neck to his heart, I push it in a little so it punctures the skin. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but I push it shut with my third finger and plunge the knife into his body, blood pooling around the hole in his heart. His eyes are still open, staring at the moon in nothing but anguish. Sometimes I think these men want to die. I remove my weapon from Bex and wipe the blood onto his sweatpants, standing up and stretching out. There’s a rustling in the trees to my right and I don’t even have to turn around to know it’s my twelve year old brother, Tyler. “Whoa, that was so badass! Can you do it again? Please?” he gushes, running over to look at the dead body. I kick it off our land and shove the knife in my belt again. “Maybe tomorrow. Have you seen Liam? He’s meant to be taking over.” I reply, looking around towards the village where I suspect he may be. Liam is a good friend of mine, but always late. Well, let me specify that he’s always late to things that he’s responsible for, like patrolling or helping to cook dinner for the group. But as soon as someone brings out booze or he hears a rumour of the opposite s*x, he’s there faster than you can say his name. “No, he went hunting earlier but I don’t think he’s back yet.” Ty doesn’t take his eyes off the corpse lying on the ground, smiling at it in admiration. Perhaps if I was anyone else, I would find that disturbing. “I thought he left for that before breakfast? He wanted to return for lunch?” Ty shrugs. I skipped lunch because of some paperwork that I hadn’t finished, so I didn’t see if he was back or not. I presumed he would be. And at dinner we had fresh deer meat, so I thought that was from him. Then again, I didn’t see him then either. “Well he wasn’t at dinner.” Panic sets in. Last time this happened, someone didn’t come back from hunting, my parents were found dead six feet from the outside of the territory. Savannah? I try to contact my best friend through the mind link. I want to check that Liam is okay, but someone needs to be keeping an eye on the borders. Yep? She replies immediately. Would you mind guarding the borders down at the Eastern side for a bit? Liam isn’t here and apparently he hasn’t come back from hunting yet. Okay, but you owe me. She grumbles. Nah, Liam owes you. I chuckle through the link, leaving it open as I start to think through the possible places he could be. We normally hunt in the thick band of oak trees a little to the West, so I’ll start there. Hopefully he’ll just be scouting a buck or something and just lost track of time. “Hey, Theena.” Twigs snap as Savannah makes her way towards me, buttoning up the front of a shirt as she walks. She probably ran here in wolf form and grabbed some clothes from a tree trunk, judging on the time it took her to get here. “Hey Vannah.” We first became friends when we were really young; before we could even speak properly. I could never pronounce her name, and she could never pronounce mine, so in the end, ‘Theena’ and ‘Vannah’ just became nicknames. It’s been over seventeen years and they still stick. “Liam gone off, huh?” I pull out my spare knife from my boot and hand it to her, just in case. You can never be too careful around here. “Yeah, I’m getting kind of worried. He never misses a meal.” I frown, pulling my fiery red, untamed hair into a ponytail. “He probably just ate something out there, don’t worry too much.” She says lightly, trying to calm my nerves. “Never hurt anyone to check though, right?”   “No, you go ahead.” She smiles softly, knowing my anxiety is because of past experiences. Nodding at her, I turn around and start walking to the hunting woods. I can feel the grass starting to freeze over in the coldness of the night. It crunches under my feet every time I take a step, and I find the sound comforting. If I wasn’t a wolf, then maybe the frosty temperatures would bother me, but since I am, I don’t overthink the fact my cheeks are only just starting to tint pink. I’ve been out here for at least three hours. I can see faint puffs of smoke coming from the chimneys of the houses down in the village. Well, I call it a village, but really it’s the size of a huge town. My parents were the leaders of a legendary group of rogues. Foreign rogues would come over seas just to catch a glimpse of the everyday life that occurred in our community. My parents were my role models. They were the reason I wanted to achieve all my goals in life. When they died, I felt like my soul shattered into a million pieces. The pack did as well. Everyone was affected to the point where even the head fighter wouldn’t train the juveniles anymore. Liam came to me about two weeks after the funeral. I was so depressed that I had smashed every single mirror in the house and not given a damn. I had pulled out the battery in my phone, wasn’t eating, wearing nothing but sweatpants that got baggier by the day. Liam had been a friend of mine before everything happened, but we had never been overly close. Being the son of my father’s third in command, we talked a bit at annual bonfires and general meetings, but never really hung out outside of those events. It made it easier for him to come out and say how selfish I was being. *Flashback* “Athena.” I couldn’t decipher the voice. I didn’t want to know who it was. I was tired. So, so tired. “Athena, listen to me.” I didn’t want to listen, so I tuned out for a bit. He slapped me around the face. Not hard, but not lightly either. My body was already numb; I didn’t make a sound, but the stinging still etched into my brain. I didn’t tell him that hitting a woman is wrong. He wanted a reaction, he wanted to snap me out of the infinite daze I was in. The old me would’ve punched him back twice as hard, pinned him to the ground and squirted soap in his eyes, but I was only a shell of that person. “There is no point in sitting here, wallowing in f*****g self misery when everything your parents ever worked to achieve is going down the drain as we speak.”  He raised his voice that time, stomped over to the curtains and yanked them open, letting light drench the dusty room. “You smell disgusting, you look disgusting, you are f*****g disgusting, Athena!” I didn’t speak a word. I still didn’t know who it was. I couldn’t be bothered to look up to see. He was suddenly right up in my face. My eyes were unfocused and I couldn’t be bothered to focus them again. A blurry haze of black curly hair mirrored a pompom on his head. “Seven people died today because they couldn’t control their wolves; even rogues need a leader if they’re part of a group, and there is no one anymore. They’ve lost the only ones they ever knew how to follow, and the only person who could possibly stop their inner torment is sitting in her room, on her own, staring at a wall that has nothing on it!” That got me. Seven people died because pack wolves killed my parents. Seven people. “Who?” I whispered hoarsely, the first word I had spoken in over two weeks. My pupils slowly started to let me see properly. It was Liam who was sitting in front of me, a soft smile on his face because he finally got through to me soon replaced by a sorrowful one. “A couple of kids from the university, the two drunk men who tried to stop the fight, their mates who killed themselves on the scene because they saw everything play out, and a ten year old who got caught up in it all.” He mumbled regretfully. My heart sunk even further than I thought it could. “A kid?” My breathing was becoming laboured, soul having a seizure in my chest. Was it my fault? Partly. I wanted nothing but revenge. All I could see was red as Liam nodded his head solemnly. “You need to go and lead those people, Athena.” He stated as I stood up on shaky legs and wandered over to the door. I followed Liam’s advice to the letter: I went outside and called a meeting, told everyone what happened and what we would do to build. I told them that training would continue as normal from then on, and that any pack wolf that entered the territory would be killed without mercy. It calmed their nerves. I was hurting inside still, but my vision had changed from grief to vengeance. When I was sure no one would kill anyone else in the group, I made my way to the Eastern border and started crying, thinking about anything and everything. A wolf came up to me, a pack wolf, and tried to help me out. Arrogant, rich, all he wanted was a body to play with. And so that was the first time I killed a pack wolf. As sick as it sounds, it became a sport for me. A way of letting out grief. It was their fault my parents were dead. That night, I tried to sleep in my mum and dad’s bedroom, surrounding myself with their scent, but I couldn’t will my brain to shut up. Liam was sleeping in my living room because he wanted to make sure I was okay. Tyler was with my Grandparents a few houses away, because there was no way I could look after a nine year old in that state. I had found some permanent hair dye in my dad’s cupboard, presumably for a prank he had wanted to pull on his Beta before he passed; that was the type of relationship they had. Serious and professional when required, but still kids on the inside. Goddess, I miss them. I dyed Liam’s hair electric blue while he was asleep, because you never, ever, hit a woman and get away with it. *End of Flashback* He never changed it back. It’s been three years. I reach the woods after about ten minutes of fast walking. Every time I’m about to cross the border, I involuntarily hold my breath. Even though it’s no man’s land on the other side, it doesn’t stop the anxiety. Anything could be lurking over there, that’s what my parents used to say. I have no control over anything. “Liam?” I call out still on my land. There’s no reply, so I decide to just suck it up and go and look deeper in the trees. “Liam?” I repeat, stepping over the border and taking a hesitant step forward. This is stupid; I’m the leader of the most feared collection of rogues in the area, and I’m scared about leaving base? This isn’t a game of tag. There’s a rustling of leaves to my left, and I take that step backward into my land right away. Not scared, cautious. “Who’s there? Liam?” I clutch the handle of my dagger as I shout into the endless array of trees. A smell hits me then, crisp, clean. Different. But good different. My wolf starts pacing in my head, smirking smugly at me. “Liam?” My voice has lost its edge now, vulnerability etches through instead. My fingertips become white with the grip I have on my beloved knife. Eyes trained on the bush I heard the noise from. I nearly scream when a figure emerges, but my wolf hushes me. She’s purring in my mind like some love sick mutt, throwing in an elated howl every now and then. I try to block her out, try to ignore her and decipher who this person is. As his form starts to be illuminated by the moonlight, I can begin to see the features of his face, although mostly hidden in the darkness. Clouded eyes that I can’t quite make out the colour of, a sharp jawline, clean shaven. Dark hair – black, maybe deep brown? – covering the side of his face and right eye. That smell gets stronger and more alluring as he gets closer. I don’t even try to step back. “Who are you?” I ask, loud enough for him to hear me, but only that. His chuckle is husky and he stops walking about three foot away from me, outside of the territory. “I think you know who I am, mate.” Back up to the Western border. Now.