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A Rogue’s Scent
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2025-09-15 14:32:35A Rogue’s Scent
Her paws stumbled, body giving out as the world tilted and blurred. She could hear snarls and howls all around, but they weren’t rogues anymore—these were stronger, disciplined, the sound of warriors.
Then the ground rushed up to meet her. She shifted back mid-fall, her battered human form hitting the dirt, naked and exposed. Pain flared bright and merciless in her shoulder, her breath shallow and ragged.
Shapes closed in: wolves, sleek and powerful, hackles raised. Her vision blurred, but she caught a flash of silver-gray fur and the glint of spears tipped in moonlight. Voices shouted over her head, rough but controlled.
“She crossed the border!”
“Rogues are behind her—watch for ambush!”Evandra tried to speak, to tell them she wasn’t a threat, but blood filled her mouth, turning her words to a cough. Her body trembled, unable to shift again.
And then everything stilled.
A new presence stepped forward, and the wolves parted without hesitation. Tall, broad-shouldered, eyes piercing green catching the moonlight. His scent was cedar smoke and steel, Alpha strength rolling off him in waves.
He was looking at her.
Tristan
Tristan Walker’s wolf surged the moment the scent hit him. Wildflowers and rain, fresh and intoxicating, a fragrance so vivid he could almost taste it. Thorne lunged inside him, snarling with recognition, desperate to get closer.
Mate.
The word shook him to his core. Tristan staggered, his chest tightening as the bond snapped into place. His mate. His goddess-given mate… lying broken on the dirt of his border.
But she was a rogue.
Panic coiled like a viper in his gut. Thorne raged, clawing against him. She is ours. Claim her. Protect her.
“No,” Tristan ground out inwardly, forcing control. She reeks of rogue blood. She came with them, Thorne. What trick is this?
Thorne’s snarl shook him. I don’t care where she came from. She is ours.
Tristan turned sharply, addressing his sentries, ignoring the magnetic pull dragging him toward the woman. “Take her to the infirmary. Treat her shoulder.” His voice was ice. “Bind her with rope, not silver cuffs, she is already injured enough. But I still want answers.”
The wolves obeyed instantly, hauling the broken stranger to her feet. Tristan forced himself to turn away, his heart hammering as Thorne clawed for release.
He didn’t dare look again.
Evandra
She drifted in and out of consciousness as rough hands carried her, as ropes tightened around her wrists. The sting burned against her skin, locking her beneath her flesh. She tried to fight, to explain, but her body was too weak.
The next she knew, she was lying on a cot, the scent of herbs and steel filling the air. Bandages wound tightly around her shoulder. The ropes were tied to the bedframe.
Her chest tightened. A prisoner.
The door opened, and she lifted her head. He stood there. The Alpha who had found her. His green eyes locked on hers.
And recognition struck like lightning.
She knew him. She remembered him standing tall at the Moon Gala, black suit gleaming, his presence commanding even from across the hall. She remembered brushing past him in the photo line, her arm slipping through Jalen’s as she tried to pose for the cameras, Jalen stiff as stone beside her. Tristan Walker had been watching.
And now here he was, staring at her as though he’d seen a ghost.
His lips parted slightly, confusion warring with something raw in his gaze.
“You,” Tristan murmured, more to himself than to her. “The Pearl Pack’s Luna.”
Evandra’s throat tightened. Shame, pain, and fury tangled in her chest. “Not anymore,” she whispered.
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