Fated to rise

The Scent Thief

By the time Aria’s legs gave out, the sun was crawling over the treetops, casting lazy golden beams across the forest floor. She collapsed on a mossy patch, her breathing ragged, her mind still spinning in tight, panicked circles.

What was she supposed to do now?

Fate had an unfortunate sense of humor.

All she wanted was a quiet life—patching up injured warriors, keeping her head down, maybe finding someone who didn’t mind that her scent was painfully average and her status even lower.

Instead, she’d gotten a glowing mate mark from the most powerful Alpha in the land.

Absolutely perfect.

And now the entire pack would know. There was no hiding it. The scent bond would start to spread like wildfire, pulling them toward each other whether they liked it or not.

Spoiler: Aria did not like it.

But there was one person she could always count on. Someone who would understand. Someone who wouldn’t laugh in her face or call her a liar.

Her best friend.

Ivy.

---

Ivy’s cottage sat at the edge of the pack village, small but cozy, surrounded by wildflowers and the lingering scent of warm honey. It was, as always, disgustingly perfect.

Aria didn’t bother knocking. She barged in and immediately flopped face-first onto Ivy’s couch.

Ivy appeared from the tiny kitchen, clutching two steaming mugs. “Rough night?”

Aria groaned into the cushions. “Rough doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Ivy set a mug down on the table and perched beside her, brushing a few stray twigs from Aria’s hair. “What happened?”

“I might have…” Aria paused, dragging herself upright and snatching the mug. “Accidentally bonded to the Alpha King.”

Ivy blinked.

Silence.

A long sip of tea.

Then Ivy said, perfectly serious, “You really should stop picking up stray Alphas. It’s becoming a bad habit.”

Aria choked on her tea, sputtering. “This is not funny!”

“It’s a little funny.”

“He grabbed my wrist while he was delirious! There was wolfsbane in his system. He probably thought I was a tree.”

“And yet,” Ivy said, leaning in with a sly smile, “he still marked you. Interesting.”

“Not interesting. Catastrophic.” Aria slammed her mug down. “Do you have any idea what the pack is going to say? That I tricked him? That I used some Omega potion to make him fall for me?”

“Do Omega potions even exist?”

“They’ll say I faked the bond. They’ll say I forced it.”

Ivy’s smile faltered for half a second, something unreadable flickering behind her soft brown eyes. But it passed so quickly Aria almost missed it.

“They can’t deny a mating bond,” Ivy said, voice honey-sweet. “It’s sacred.”

“They’ll deny it when they realize they hate the idea of me being Luna.”

Ivy twirled a lock of Aria’s hair around her finger. “Maybe fate just wanted to shake things up.”

Aria gave her a flat look. “Fate should mind its own business.”

“Agreed,” Ivy hummed. “But you can’t hide this forever. His scent’s already on you. The bond will only grow stronger.”

Aria winced. She could still feel it, the phantom weight of Lucian’s scent curling around her like invisible chains. It wasn’t painful, exactly. Just… permanent.

“I need to get rid of it,” she muttered.

“You can’t.”

“I have to.”

“How?”

Aria buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know yet. Something. Anything. Maybe I’ll roll in mud until I smell like a swamp.”

Ivy laughed, soft and musical. “Tempting, but probably ineffective.”

“Then I’ll burn sage. Or bathe in vinegar.”

“You’ll smell like a salad.”

“Perfect. No one mates a salad.”

Ivy shook her head, her laughter trailing off as her fingers lingered briefly over Aria’s wrist, brushing the faint mating mark with a featherlight touch.

“You really don’t want this, huh?” she asked quietly.

“Not even a little,” Aria said, her voice firm. “I don’t want to be anyone’s destiny. I just want to live my life. On my terms.”

Ivy’s gaze softened, her thumb gently stroking the silver crescent moon etched into Aria’s skin.

“Then we’ll figure something out,” she promised. “Together.”

Relief unfurled in Aria’s chest. Of course Ivy would help her. Ivy always had her back. Always.

“Thank you,” Aria whispered.

“Anything for you,” Ivy said, her smile warm. “Always.”

But Aria didn’t notice the way Ivy’s fingers lingered a moment too long on her wrist.

Or the faint glimmer of something sharper—something hungrier—lurking in her best friend’s eyes.

The village was already buzzing by midday.

Word traveled fast in a werewolf pack—faster than Aria could ever hope to run from it. By the time she slipped back toward the center of the camp, whispers coiled through the streets like smoke. She could feel their stares trailing after her, like sharp little needles prickling the back of her neck.

“She’s the Omega… the one the Alpha King—”

“No way. That can’t be real. An Omega? His mate?”

“I heard she forced it. Must’ve used a potion. Omegas can’t bond with Alphas like him.”

“She probably faked it. I bet the King rejects her the second he wakes up.”

Aria kept her chin high and her pace steady, but her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

It was exactly as she’d feared.

The story had twisted in less than twelve hours. Suddenly she wasn’t an unlucky girl caught in a bizarre accident—she was a schemer, a liar, a seductress.

A threat.

She pushed past a group of sneering warriors and headed straight for the training grounds, where the weekly scent verification ceremony was already being hastily prepared.

Normally, such ceremonies were reserved for formal mate announcements—scheduled, planned, controlled. But now? Now the whole pack was scrambling to prove whether the bond between Aria and Lucian was genuine.

And Aria knew exactly why.

They were hoping to expose her as a fraud.

Rhys stood near the center of the grounds, his arms crossed as he barked orders at the lower-ranked wolves. His sharp gaze found Aria instantly, but instead of stopping her, he merely nodded toward the empty circle where she was expected to stand.

No escape this time.

Ivy appeared at her side, slipping her arm through Aria’s. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” Aria muttered. “Love being a public spectacle.”

“Just breathe. We’ll get through this.”

“Yeah,” Aria said, but her stomach twisted. Something about this felt off. Too rushed. Too forced.

When the Alpha King finally emerged, supported by his guards but clearly recovering, the entire crowd dropped into a bow.

Except Aria.

She simply stared at him, arms crossed, daring him to say the wrong thing.

Lucian’s golden eyes narrowed, scanning her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. His voice was still rough from the night before. “Step forward.”

Aria didn’t move. “If you’re about to announce that I’m your mate, you should know—I’m not interested.”

A ripple of shocked murmurs spread through the watching wolves.

Lucian’s jaw ticked. “My interest is not the question.”

“Oh, but it is,” Aria shot back. “See, I don’t particularly want to belong to anyone.”

Lucian’s eyes darkened, but before he could respond, Rhys stepped between them. “The scent test will decide.”

Aria reluctantly moved to the center of the circle, Ivy trailing just behind her.

Lucian’s Beta held up a ceremonial cloth. “Your scents will be tested side by side.”

The process was simple: Lucian’s scent would be pressed into the cloth, and Aria’s scent would be layered over it. If the bond was real, their scents would naturally merge, creating a unique third scent—an unmistakable mark of mates.

If not… the bond would collapse, and Aria would be publicly humiliated.

Lucian’s scent was added first, his rich, stormy cedar filling the air. The cloth was passed to Aria.

She hesitated.

What if the bond was real?

What if her scent merged with his in front of everyone?

She didn’t want this. She didn’t ask for it.

She clenched her jaw and pressed her wrist to the cloth.

A beat passed.

Then another.

The crowd leaned in, waiting for the reaction.

Aria’s scent—usually so faint, so forgettable—rose and wrapped around Lucian’s like a delicate silver thread.

For a moment, it seemed to shimmer, to pulse—

But then a stronger scent flooded the air.

Everyone’s heads whipped toward the source.

Ivy.

She had pressed her own wrist against the cloth, eyes wide and innocent as she whispered, “I just… I wanted to help. I didn’t mean to—”

But it was too late.

Her scent surged forward, overwhelming Aria’s, binding itself to Lucian’s as if they belonged together.

Gasps echoed through the training ground.

“I—I didn’t know,” Ivy stammered, stepping back in apparent shock. “I thought I was just helping.”

Lucian’s gaze snapped to her, his expression unreadable, but his golden eyes flared with something primal—recognition.

The scent bond latched onto Ivy.

A perfect fit.

Or so it seemed.

Aria’s heart dropped into her stomach.

This couldn’t be happening.

“Ivy?” Lucian’s voice was low, strained, but undeniably drawn to her. “You… you’re my mate?”

Ivy’s lower lip trembled, her brown eyes glistening. “I don’t know… I didn’t… I didn’t plan this.”

Aria wanted to scream.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t real.

But the crowd had already shifted. The suspicion, the doubt—it all melted away from Ivy and slammed into Aria.

A whisper passed from one wolf to another.

“She lied.”

“She’s nothing.”

“She wanted the crown.”

Lucian’s eyes flicked briefly to Aria. Cold. Distant.

His decision was written all over his face.

Aria’s chest burned.

She forced a crooked smile. “Well, good for you. Seems fate finally fixed its mistake.”

Without waiting for permission, she turned and walked away, leaving the broken threads of a bond she’d never wanted lying in the dust behind her.