Chapter 3: The Man Who Wouldn't Let Him Die

The word echoed through my mind, turning my stomach so violently I thought I would vomit.

Mate.

"No." I shook my head hard, my vision blurring behind a wall of unshed tears. I dug my fingers into the blood-soaked fabric of Sarlen's shirt, pulling his heavy, limp body tighter against my chest. "No."

The massive black wolf who had just transformed into a man went completely still. The suffocating alpha pressure radiating from his towering frame didn't drop, but his piercing midnight eyes narrowed to lethal slits.

"What did you say?" His voice vibrated through the clearing, a deep, gravelly baritone that felt entirely too heavy for the quiet forest.

"I said no." I forced my chin up, though my jaw trembled violently. "Get away from me."

His gaze dropped to the jagged, oozing gash across my chest, then down to Sarlen’s pale face. "You're injured."

"I don't care."

"You need a healer."

"I said I don't care!" My voice cracked, and I loathed myself for it. I detested that this stranger could see exactly how terrified and broken I was.

I had just watched the only person I had left in the world torn apart and bleed out in my arms, and now this person was standing over me, invoking some invisible, cosmic tether to bind our souls together. I didn't want a fated mate. I wanted my father.

The man took a slow, deliberate step forward. Instantly, a feral growl tore from my throat, my newly awakened fangs baring in a vicious snarl. "Don't touch me."

He froze. Behind him, dozens of massive, elite warriors remained completely silent, their heads bowed so low their snouts brushed the snow. The absolute discipline of his pack was terrifying.

His eyes tracked the gold flecks still swirling in my amber irises. "You are Adele?"

I stiffened, my pulse hammering against my ribs. "How do you know my name?"

"I know a lot more than your name."

"Then you know to stay the hell away from me."

His jaw tightened, a hard muscle leaping in his cheek. "I can't."

"Why?"

"Because you're my mate," he said softly, yet the word carried the weight of a physical blow. It sounded like torture coming from his mouth.

"You're mistaken," I whispered, desperately trying to block out the sudden, uninvited wave of heat blooming deep within my core. My wolf was purring. Traitors, both of them. "You don't even know me."

"I don't need to." A spark of hot, defensive rage flared through my grief. "Well, I don't know if anyone told you, but being an Alpha does not mean you get to decide everything. You think you can control me?"

“My name is Rowan, the Wolf King of Dravenwood. And no, I do not decide all things," he said, looking down at Sarlen.

His expression was rigid, but a raw, cracked undertone in his voice caught my attention. "But I know what it means to watch someone you care about die."

He wasn't staring at me the way the rogues had. There was no disgusting hunger in his eyes, no maniacal excitement over the legendary Erias blood in my veins. His voice projected a similar profound, exhausting pain to my own.

He closed the distance between us. I instinctively tried to drag Sarlen backward into the snow, but my muscles had gone stiff from the cold.

"Don't touch him!" I screamed.

"I need to examine him."

"He's dead!" A sob choked me, my tears finally spilling over, hot against my freezing cheeks. "He's dead, you monster..."

"He's not." Rowan crouched a few feet away, his movements fluid. He didn't touch Sarlen, but his eyes were fixed on his throat. "His chest is still moving. Look."

My breath hitched. I forced myself to look down. Sarlen's skin was translucent, completely devoid of color. I pressed my trembling, bloody palm flat against his chest. Nothing. Then, I saw it—a faint, weak rise of his chest.

"Father?" I gasped, fresh tears blinding me. He was breathing. Barely.

"He's alive," Rowan muttered, his voice surprisingly gentle.

The small, prideful wall I had spent ten years building completely collapsed. I looked up at the Alpha, my vision swimming. "Help him. Please."

The Alpha stood up instantly, his commanding aura snapping back into place. "Darius!"

An elderly man stepped out from the line of silent wolves, carrying a carved wooden staff.

Despite his frail frame and milky, blind eyes, he moved with terrifying speed, kneeling beside Sarlen.

His hands flew over the wound, pressing a poultice against the deep claw trauma. "He has massive blood loss, Majesty. The pulse is just a whisper."

"Can you save him?" I begged, gripping Sarlen's cold hand.

Darius glanced at me, his sightless eyes somehow reading my soul. "Only if we reach the stronghold's medical wing within the hour, child."

I immediately shook my head, my survival instincts roaring. "No. No, I am not going anywhere with a pack."

Rowan’s brow furrowed, a dark shadow crossing his face. "No?"

"I don't trust you," I spat, my voice laced with the poison of a decade’s worth of hiding.

"I know." The answer caught me entirely off guard. He didn't argue. He didn't threaten to throw me in chains. He just turned back to his vanguard. "Prepare the carriage. Now."

"I can carry him myself," I insisted, struggling to find my footing in the deep drifts.

Rowan looked down at me, his gaze sweeping over my trembling, exhausted frame. "You're barely standing, Adele."

"I said I can carry him."

"Adele."

The way his voice wrapped around my name made a strange, violent thrill snap down my spine. It wasn't fear; it was a familiar but unfamiliar recognition.

My inner wolf stretched, pushing against my ribcage, trying to reach him. I shoved the feeling down with everything I had.

Rowan looked at me. Then, with a fluid motion, he unclasped the heavy, fur-lined black cloak from his shoulders and held it out. I stared at it, defensive. "What is that for?"

"You're naked."

A fierce, burning heat rushed straight to my face. In the chaos of the transformation and the grief, I had completely forgotten that shifting back left me entirely exposed.

I snatched the cloak from his grip, aggressively wrapping the thick, heavy wool around my body.

It instantly enveloped me in his scent. Smoke, frozen pine, and a dark, intoxicating spice that made my wolf whine with desperate longing. I hated it. I hated how safe it felt.

"Don't get used to helping me," I muttered.

A tiny twitch at the corner of his lips was his only reaction. “I wasn't planning to."

Darius called over two massive warriors who carefully lifted Sarlen onto a stretcher. I stayed glued to his side as they moved toward a heavy, reinforced carriage parked at the edge of the clearing. But as I moved to follow them, Rowan’s broad chest blocked my path.

"What now?" I snapped.

"You are riding inside with me."

"No. I'll walk behind the carriage."

"You will freeze to death before we hit the valley."

"I don't care."

"I do." Rowan stepped closer, his shadow looming over me. His dark eyes burned into mine, filled with an intense, unyielding resolve.