The Scent of Fate

Alex

The further I run into the woods, the quieter it gets.

No wind. No animals scurrying in the brush. Just silence.

The kind that makes your spine itch.

A forest should not be this quiet.

There were a few screeches—sharp and distant.

Then nothing.

Did the Wendigos just retreat?

Why the fuck would they do that?

I slow my pace, every sense sharpens, my ears twitching at phantom sounds. The hairs on my back prickle.

Something is wrong.

I'm waiting for an attack, but nothing.

And then, the stench hits me.

Rotten meat. Blood. Decay.

I scan the area. And there it is—

A single Wendigo’s corpse.

Lying twisted and broken in the clearing.

I crouch, examining the kill.

Three calculated strikes. A final, brutal blow through the chest. Whoever did this wasn’t just strong—they were precise. A fucking warrior.

But they didn’t burn the body… a fatal mistake.

I shift, bones snapping as I return to human form. I grip the lighter between my teeth before tossing it onto the body. Flames rush over the corpse, hissing and cracking. The Wendigo twitches once—residual nerve reflex—before going still for good. The fire slowly dies out, and as the rotten smell evaporates, another scent hits me.

Mint.

Vanilla.

Fuck.

It's so intense, so divine, it nearly knocks me off my feet. I stop breathing for a second, just to savour it.

My pulse spikes. My wolf stirs.

I shift again without thinking. The change is effortless this time. My paws hit the ground as my most primal instincts take over. I’m drawn to the scent like a damn addict chasing a fix.

I don’t care about the Wendigos anymore.

I just need to find it.

No—her.

The trail leads away from the corpse, back into Arcane pack territory. As I walk across the grounds, a large, concrete building looms ahead—the training hall.

I shove the back door open with my shoulder, slipping into a dim corridor.

The hallway is lined with steel lockers, some dented and scratched from fights that didn’t stay in the ring.

I shift back into my human form and yank on a spare pair of pants from one of the lockers, not bothering with a shirt. My chest rises and falls with short, shallow breaths. My footsteps echo off the concrete floor — a steady rhythm beneath the humming silence.

I enter a massive gym filled with rows of modern equipment.

One wall is made entirely of glass, looking out over a gravel-sparring arena scarred with claw marks and bloodstains.

But the scent is pulling me elsewhere—

Down a narrower hall. Past the women's shower room.

It’s closer now. Stronger.

And I’m practically salivating.

What the fuck is happening to me?

Get your shit together, Alex.

I round the final corner, stepping into the large training hall, and—

It slams into me.

Her scent, so overwhelming, it nearly makes my legs buckle.

She stands there in the center of the room, her back slightly turned, muscles taut as she strikes the heavy bag. Sweat glistens on her smooth, cream skin.

My mouth goes dry.

Her green eyes catch mine before I can even think about what to say.

Familiar. Fierce. Unyielding.

My heart skips, then pounds harder in my chest. The whole damn world disappears. I forget how to breathe. How to think. I’ve seen her countless times before, grown up with her, but now… now it feels like I’ve never truly known her.

She’s not mine. Not yet. But Goddess, I want her to be.

Her lush, dark curls are pulled into a messy knot, with a few loose strands clinging the delicate curve of her jaw. Her lips—full, parted, taunting —make me ache to taste her. And those wild, green eyes? Daring. Defiant. They challenge me to try.

My gaze drops lower, and heat flashes down my spine.

She’s all curves and trouble. Built to ruin a man. Hips that beg to be gripped. Her top clings to her chest in a way that makes my hands twitch. She’s not just beautiful—she’s weaponized. And right now, she's aimed straight at me.

When her gaze locks onto mine, it's assessing, bold. Like she’s reading every thought I’m trying to hide. She’s sizing me up.

A smirk twitches at my lips.

This will be fun.

I take a step towards her, expecting her to look away, like every other woman does when I exert my dominance. But she doesn’t.

She doesn't flinch. Doesn't even blink.

I stop just a few feet in front of her, towering over her, waiting for the first crack in her composure.

Nothing.

"So you're the one who killed the Wendigo?" My voice comes out calm—too calm for the chaos in my chest. "I'm impressed. You're skilled for such a… small thing."

Her perfect brow arches.

"Still underestimating me, Alpha-Heir Alexander?" she drawls. "You, of all people, should know better than that."

Her voice—Goddess. Smooth. Seductive. Every word she says makes something in me burn hotter. My chest tightens, and I feel that all-too-familiar pull in my gut. She’s taunting me, just like she used to when we were kids. The way she’d grin when I got mad, laughing when I chased her down.

But this is no fucking game anymore.

The woman in front of me isn’t some bratty girl I can push around. She’s a goddess damn challenge. And I want to take it.

She smirks, smug as hell.

My hands itch to wipe that expression off her face—by shaking some sense into her or—

Fuck.

"You always did have a mouth on you, little wolf," I murmur, my voice low, edged with warning.

She tilts her head.

"And you always hated losing," she fires back, her smile infuriatingly calm.

I exhale sharply through my nose, nostrils flaring. She’s enjoying this. She’s enjoying watching me barely hold onto control.

I should put her in her fucking place. Remind her who she’s talking to. I let out my Alpha power. My aura.

But it doesn't work on her. Fuck. It’s never worked on her. Not since we were kids.

Maybe because she’s my fated mate, maybe because she’s so stubborn it defies the laws of fucking nature. But the way she doesn’t shy away, how she stands there, unyielding, it intrigues me.

“I never lose, little wolf.” My voice is low, biting, but underneath it, something else stirs.

Her eyes glitter. "Except with me."

Her smirk grows into a sexy smile, the kind that makes my blood run hot.

"You seem to forget all the moonlit hunts you and I had, Alpha-Heir… you never were able to catch me, no matter how hard you tried."

She steps closer, and I can’t stop myself from holding my breath.

Her eyes gleam, teasing, daring. "You chased. You hunted. But in the end, you were always just a step too slow… always reaching, never claiming. Not the way you wanted to."

The urge to claim her, to mark her, roars in my blood.

My Alpha power crackles under my skin, a storm ready to break. She’s enjoying this too much.

"Careful, Alpha-Heir," she whispers. "Your temper’s showing.”

Something snaps in me, like a rope pulled too tight. Before I can stop myself, I close the final distance between us in one stride. Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t step back. Of course, she doesn’t.

Her eyes darken, chin lifting, daring me to make the next move.

The amusement in her gaze shifts into something hotter.

And just when I think she’s going to break first, she smirks again.

Fuck.