Thorns Beneath the Bloom

The garden is quiet except for the sound of water trickling in the marble fountain and the soft whisper of leaves shifting in the wind. I pace between the rose bushes, trying to breathe evenly, trying to stop the storm in my head from spiraling out of control.

Of course Ethan had to be charming. Of course he had to be good-looking in that smug, infuriating way. The worst part is—I felt something.

A pull.

I’m still trying to shove that thought out of my head when I sense him behind me.

I don’t turn around. “If you’re here to tell me how lucky I am to be your future mate, save your breath.”

His voice comes low, dry. “That’s funny. I was about to say the same to you.”

I finally face him. He’s standing just beyond the ivy archway, arms crossed, shadows from the moon dancing across his jawline.

“You’ve got some nerve,” I say, stepping forward. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“Neither did I.”

That stops me.

I blink. “What?”

Ethan exhales, gaze drifting upward for a second before meeting mine again. “I didn’t want this arrangement. It was advised… heavily. Political strategy, alliances, stabilizing territories, blah blah blah.”

His mouth twists like the words leave a sour taste.

“I’ve done everything expected of me,” he continues. “But I’m looking for any way out of this deal. Don’t mistake my silence for agreement.”

I narrow my eyes. “Then why go through with it at all?”

He shrugs slightly. “I’m not in the habit of letting people control me.”

“Right,” I snap. “But forcing me into something is fine.”

His voice lowers. “I’m not forcing you, Selene. That would be your Alpha. And your father.”

My throat tightens.

I open my mouth to fire back, but something stalls me. His eyes aren’t mocking—they’re searching. As if he’s trying to figure out why I’m still here.

“Why are you agreeing to this?” he asks. “You don’t strike me as the obedient type.”

I freeze.

The memory slips in before I can stop it.

---

 

I’m fourteen. Kneeling in the dirt, my ribs sore, lip split from a sparring match with one of the warrior recruits.

Dad stands at the edge of the training ring, arms folded, watching.

Not cheering. Not scolding. Just watching.

“I beat him,” I say, panting. “He’s older than me.”

Dad only nods. “He was sloppy. You exploited that. You were stronger, yes—but reckless.”

I deflate. The small, flickering flame of pride snuffed out instantly.

“You’ve got power, Selene. But power without discipline is a broken sword.” He turns away. “And a Beta can’t afford to be broken.”

I swallow the sting in my throat. My fists curl tighter in the dirt.

All I ever wanted was for him to be proud.

---

“I’m doing it,” I tell Ethan now, “because it’s my duty.”

He studies me. “Is that what you want?”

I glance away. “No. But it’s what’s expected.”

He walks a few steps closer. “So, we’re both prisoners of expectation.”

There’s something raw in his voice. Something I didn’t expect to find in a wolf like him.

We stand there, shadows stretched long beneath the moonlight, and the space between us starts to shrink.

I hate the way I feel around him.

The way his voice settles low in my stomach. The way my skin seems to burn when he gets too close. The way he speaks to others with charm but looks at me like he wants to tear me apart and understand me all at once.

I hate his confidence. His charm. The way girls melt around him like they’ve been waiting their whole lives just to be noticed.

And I won’t be just another girl.

So when I speak, my voice is ice.

“Well, if you're looking for a way out, don’t worry. I won’t stop you. You’re not my fated mate, and I’m not yours.”

His eyes flash at that, something unreadable passing over his face.

And then, quietly: “Aren’t I?”

I don't answer. I walk away before I can.

The stone path crunches beneath my boots as I storm away, but each step feels heavier than the last.

“Aren’t I?”

His voice lingers like smoke, curling around my thoughts long after I leave the garden.

I slip into the empty training courtyard behind the east wing, the only place that feels like mine. The moon is higher now, casting long shadows between the pillars. I sink to the cool steps and bury my face in my hands.

He can’t be my mate.

He can’t.

I’d know… wouldn’t I?

Mate bonds are supposed to be undeniable. Magnetic. The second your eyes lock, the world shifts, the instinct awakens, the bond begins to thread itself between your souls. That’s what every elder says. That’s what the books say.

So why do I only feel this… this confusion? This pull that doesn’t make sense?

Is something wrong with me?

Maybe the Goddess overlooked me. Maybe I’m broken. Or maybe—my worst fear—maybe I’ve spent so long pretending I don’t need a mate that I’ve closed off the part of me that would recognize him if he were standing right in front of me.

I think of his voice. His eyes. That strange tension between us. My skin prickles when he steps too close. The flutter in my chest, I pretend not to feel.

No. No, no, no. It’s just an attraction. Heat. Arrogant, infuriating, Alpha arrogance. Not fate.

Still…

I press my hand to my chest, trying to steady my heartbeat.

I hate that he made me wonder.