My Cursed Mate's Revenge

Chapter 6: A Mate Refused

Present:

Freya

I stare at the man who kneels before me as his companion disappears into the woods. My instincts tell me he would not, could not, come back until a mindlink command orders his return. The power and authority had been clear in his command, strong enough that I had nearly turned on my heel and left.

While strong, it didn’t feel like my father’s Alpha commands. It was slightly…watered down, as if he was a Beta or perhaps even an Alpha heir. Regardless of his status, I keep my eyes locked on him for any signs that a mindlink has occurred, any hint that his companion is sneaking up on me to take me by surprise.

Neither of us speak. The longer the silence carries on, the more confident the smile on his face becomes, the more at ease his posture grows.

It is infuriating, insufferable. Rage begins to fill my body, choking me. Who is this man to stare at me so dismissively. Who is he to act like I pose no threat to him? To let his eyes shamelessly trace my body…

My skin grows hot, a flush on my skin spreading across every inch that his eyes touch. His breaths are shallow, his deep tan skin taut over a muscular chest and stomach.

A strong jaw free of stubble, full lips pulled up in a seductive but condescending smile, a straight nose and light amber eyes crinkle at the corners as if there is a joke I missed and was becoming funnier by each passing moment, all complimented by a thick head of shorter dark brown hair pushed back from his face.

I want to slice that arrogant smile off his face, to claw at his eyes and the perfect skin on his chest. I want to bite his neck and feel his hot blood pour into my mouth. I want to scream and rage and hit, anything to wipe that look off of his face, to make him say something-

“Now that is the smile of a killer. You must be thinking something incredibly violent right now. Care to share, princess?”

“I was just wondering how quickly I can make you bleed to death if I take a bite out of your neck.”

“How interesting, I was also thinking about having your lips on my neck. And every other inch of my body.”

My eyes instinctively began to lower at his words, to the space between his legs I had refused up until this point to inspect. My gaze passes below his belly button before I realize what I am doing and quickly returns to his face, hoping he did not notice.

The grin on his face widens triumphantly and the blush that had begun to spread on my cheeks darkens.

“I don’t have time for this. I am leaving and you will not follow me.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. If you leave, I will have to follow you. And since I don’t want to see you hurt further than you’ve already been, I can’t let you leave.”

“Then it seems we are at an impasse. Because I am leaving.”

“I know you feel scared, but you can trust me. I will protect you, I will feed you, but please- give me a moment to explain.”

I weigh my options. My back feels better than it has in weeks, thanks to the work his friend has done. I smell the food cooking at my back. My mouth waters and my stomach grumbles so loudly and painfully, my other hand immediately moves to cover it as if it can block the sound from reaching his ears.

The move only draws more attention to my hunger. The smug, satisfied look on his face is infuriating.

“Fine. I will eat. You will talk. If your friend comes back, if you try anything, I’ll make you regret it, and then I’ll leave. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

We move to the cook fire, our eyes locked on each other and our every step and movement in perfect sync.

He fills two bowls with broth and sets them down between us, allowing me to choose. I pick one and offer it to him. He slurps the broth down in a loud and obnoxious manner without question before handing it back to me.

I still sniff it before doing the same, though much quieter and less obnoxiously. It is delicious. I finish the bowl quickly and eye the stew hungrily.

“No stew just yet. Ranger’s orders. Broth and water to get something in your stomach first. Then we can talk about stew, ok?”

His tone is hushed, kind, as if he has once been starving too and denied a meal that was dangled in front of him. He extends a water skin towards me along with a spare shirt.

At my hesitation, he says, “I’ll be able to think better when you’re taken care of and..when you’re covered up. No matter how sad I am at the loss.”

Blushing furiously, I rip the spare shirt from his hand and pull it on my head before storming over to the stream and drinking greedily from its cool waters. I return to my seat across from him and find he has refilled my bowl of broth. He takes another sip, and passes it to me before beginning.

“Alright, now that the important pieces have all been addressed, we can begin. My friend who ran off is named Geralt. He and his wolf Fangor, Fang to his friends, are Rangers with the Night Stalker pack.”

“He looks too young to be a full Ranger. Or have the requirements changed?” I ask, thinking back to the brief interaction I had had with Geralt. He had looked no older than 25 years old, while most did not reach the post until 30.

“Geralt is something of a special case. His father was a Ranger and had been teaching him practically since birth. Then Fangor showed himself at 15. They joined the recruits the next day. That’s why I trusted him to treat your back, there’s no better medic in all of Anastrossi.”

He gestures at my bowl, which has gone untouched since he began. Scowling, I gulp down the last of the broth, returning to the stream for another few gulps of water, then heading back to the fire, gesturing for him to continue.

“We’ll finish talking and see if your stomach feels up to some stew, ok?”

I nod my agreement, my mouth continuing to water at the thought of my first hot meal in too long.

“Right. So you are Freya, recently shunned heir to the Snow Mountain pack.”

The sentence has no sooner left his mouth before I am on my feet, blade in hand.

“I have only been shunned by one person in my pack. If you are her ally, that makes you my enemy.”

“Steady, princess. She is no ally. We have been looking for you for 7 days. Your stepmother sent the Night Stalker envoy to alert us of your disappearance and the ‘desire to have you returned to her care with the utmost speed and discretion.’ He informed us of the…changes that have occurred in the last few months.”

I keep my face expressionless as he speaks, my blade still in hand and searching for any signs he might be lying. I could not stop the flinch that crossed my face as he mentioned the changes my pack has endured, the pain ripping a fresh wound in my heart.

He continues quietly, as if speaking to an injured animal who is about to bolt at any moment, “The events he spoke of were of great concern, but the foremost among them was his belief in your innocence.”

My lungs stop. I want to believe this is true, but the past month has taken a heavy toll. I had never felt so alone. Could it really be true that I had an ally in not only the Night Stalker envoy, but possibly the entire Night Stalker pack?

A single tear escapes as I whisper, “And you? What do you believe?”

“I trust our envoy and the things he told us. I trust my instincts, which tell me you are innocent. And I trust the word of my father, Arthur, Beta of the Night Stalker pack and trainer of Freya, heir to the Snow Mountain pack, who once told me that he had never met a warrior more fierce and honorable in his life than the daughter of Gabriel.”

The tears I have held back for months begin to flow freely, relief and hope that I may have finally found an ally so overwhelming that I fall to my knees.

“Ryder?” I asked, having heard Arthur speak of his only son countless times over the years, although we had not seen each other since we were young children, and even then only briefly and from a distance.

Unbridled joy lits up his face at the sound of his name, before it is quickly masked by the dismissive smirk once again returning.

“I was not sure you would remember. I clearly made a good impression.”

“Actually, it was your father who made the good impression. You, on the other hand, made no impression at all.”

“Oh princess…we’re going to have such a good time together.”

Heat pools between my legs, the seductive sound of his voice making me shiver. His eyes darken, his tongue licking his lips as if preparing himself to devour me, his hands flexing as if to stop himself from reaching for me.

The silence stretches and heats, our eyes locked as if under the control of some spell. Suddenly, his eyes darken, not with lust but with the tone that his wolf is speaking with him and freeing me from the intensity of the moment as he shakes his head dismissively.

“Sorry, Mav is obnoxious if I don’t give him a turn to speak. Apparently, he tried to link with you himself but couldn’t reach you or your wolf and is insisting I speak for him.”

“It would be a welcome miracle if he did manage to link with my wolf, since I don’t have one.”

His brow furrows, confusion clear on his face, “But you’re at least…”

“I turned 22 two weeks ago. She has still not appeared.”

His eyes darken again, but this time a very different voice left Ryder’s mouth.

“I apologize. Ryder is leaving out every other word and clearly cannot be trusted with this conversation. I am his wolf, Maverick. I tried to link with you myself, but as I was telling Ryder, I couldn’t reach you or your wolf. I could feel the space where your minds occupy…or at least, the space that your mind may occupy. Are you certain you do not have a wolf?”

“Fairly certain, considering I am already older than the oldest delayed shifter according to our records. He was 21 years and 4 months, if my memory serves.”

Maverick pauses to consider this. Several times, he opens his mouth as if to speak, but quickly closes it again. His posture slumps slightly, a great sadness filling his eyes. It feels like an iron vase had encased my chest, as panic settles over me.

“I understand if you no longer wish for the Night Stalkers to help me. I know it would be asking much of the pack to support my efforts and to reclaim what is mine by blood and birth. But I could not mislead my only possible allies….I have never shifted. I have never heard her voice in my mind and I…” I struggle to finish.

The years of frustration, anger, hurt, and desperation surfacing after being buried for so, so long, whispering, “...and I fear I never will.”

My head hangs in shame.

Would they not help me, now that they knew for certain the heir to the Snow Mountain pack was wolfless?

Although we have only shared a few brief moments together where we weren’t actively fighting each other, I cannot stop the sadness I feel at the thought of disappointing Ryder or Maverick, of them seeing me as unworthy of his support.

His hand gently wraps around my shoulder and pulls me forward into a warm embrace. Strong arms hold me at my waist and shoulders to avoid disturbing my new bandages.

“It is ok, Freya. She will appear. She will come into this world just as fierce and beautiful as you, and she will fix everything that has gone wrong. Perhaps this is why he does not feel the bond as I do…”

His words are ice in my veins, panic clouding my mind.

“Bond? What bond?”

“I thought you should know, he was too scared to say…I’m sorry.”

His eyes return to their beautiful amber color, and Ryder once again looks back at me, the panic on my face mirrored on his own.

I grab my pack and slowly back away from him.

“Freya, please, you have to understand. Maverick…he thinks we may be mates, but I don’t feel it, it’s ok. Please, you don’t have to leave, we can figure this out. Just don’t go, it’s not safe.”

His words grow more and more frantic as I continue to back away.

He stands to follow me and I stop, raising my palms toward him. The panic is spreading, my breathing almost painful gasps in my chest.

“No.”

He looks confused and takes a step towards me, his hand reaching out.

“NO.”

It was as if I had slapped him.

“You are not my mate. I cannot have one. I WILL not have one.”

His face crumples, shoulders sagging as if suddenly burdened with the weight of the world. My heart aches at the sight, but I can’t stop the words, stop the rising panic.

“Don’t follow me.”

And with that, I turn away from the only one who wanted to help me, who wanted to protect me- who might be my mate.

I run into the forest and I do not look back.