In the woods
765 Words
In the woods
Trent. Marcus’s mind voice was sharp with command. Control yourself.
But Trent was beyond control. His mate—his mate—was in there with another man. A man who’d touched her, kissed her, held her like he had the right.
She doesn’t know, Marcus reminded him, physically blocking his son when Trent tried to move toward the house. She doesn’t know about the bond. She doesn’t know about you. Whatever that human is to her, it’s not your place to interfere. Not yet.
He touched her. Trent’s mind voice was ragged, feral. He—
I know. Marcus’s own wolf was restless, remembering the early days with Elena, the jealousy and possessiveness of a new bond. But you can’t claim her by force. You can’t scare him away like a rival wolf. She’s human. She has a human life. And if you want her to choose you, you have to let her come to that choice freely.
What if she chooses him?
The thought was agony, worse than the ten years of emptiness, worse than the constant ache of separation.
Then you’ll survive it. Marcus’s tone gentled. But I don’t think you have to worry about that.
You saw them—
I saw a human male comfortable with casual affection. I saw your mate being polite. Marcus nudged his son firmly away from the tree line. But I didn’t see a mate bond. Whatever he is to her, it’s not what you are. Even if she doesn’t know it yet.
Trent allowed himself to be guided deeper into the woods, but his eyes remained fixed on the house, on the lit windows, on the place where his mate had just disappeared with another male.
The funeral tomorrow was going to be torture.
Inside the house
“So this is the famous Pine Grove,” Daniel said, looking around the rustic interior with poorly concealed distaste. “Cozy.”
“It’s home,” Elara said softly, then caught herself. “Was home. I mean, when I was younger.”
“Right.” Daniel pulled her close again, his expression sympathetic. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. The firm had me in depositions all week, and—”
“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here now.” She leaned into him, accepting the comfort, but something felt… off.
She couldn’t explain it. Daniel was her boyfriend of six months. He was successful, attractive, and supportive. She should be relieved he’d made the drive to be with her.
But that howl…
It had sounded so heartbroken. So human in its anguish.
“You okay?” Daniel asked, tilting her chin up.
“Yeah,” she lied. “Just tired. It’s been a long day.”
But that night, as Daniel slept in the guest room (he’d been scandalized at the suggestion of sharing her childhood bedroom under her late grandmother’s roof), Elara lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
The funeral was a small affair, despite the number of family members who’d shown up. Most of them were clustered in groups, talking in low voices that had more to do with the estate than with mourning. Elara stood near the grave, feeling utterly alone despite being surrounded by people.
Daniel’s phone buzzed for the third time in twenty minutes.
“I’m sorry, babe, I have to take this,” he whispered, already stepping away. “It’s the Henderson case, I told them I’d be available if—”
“It’s fine,” Elara said flatly, watching him walk toward the house, phone pressed to his ear.
She turned back to the grave to the simple casket that would be lowered into the earth overlooking the land Granny had loved. Her throat was tight, her eyes burning.
“Elara!” Her cousin Emily appeared at her elbow, pulling her away from the graveside. “Come on, you’ve been standing there for twenty minutes. Come talk with us.”
Elara allowed herself to be tugged over to where a cluster of cousins stood—people she hadn’t seen in years, making awkward small talk about jobs and marriages and children.
“—and then the market just crashed, so we’re looking at condos now instead of—”
“Oh my God,” someone breathed.
The conversation stopped abruptly. Every head turned toward the driveway.
Three figures were walking up the path—a distinguished older man with silver threading through his dark hair, a beautiful woman with kind eyes, and between them…
Elara’s breath caught in her throat.
No.
There’s no way.
It can’t
- Writer
