Semua Bab Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King: Bab 161 - Bab 170

DamonI move like a phantom through the trees, my senses locked onto the faint scent trail I found near the border. It’s fresh, leading deeper into the forest, winding toward something old. Something my instincts are warning me is something very wrong.My lip curls, but I keep following. The girl doesn’t even know she’s being tracked. Sloppy and amateurish. Hard to believe she got away with murder.I’d gone back to where the boy’s body was left, circling the perimeter, looking for any trace of the killer. What I found was her scent. Faint at first, but unmistakable. And now I’ve followed it here, to the ruins of something ancient that reeks of magic.She emerges just as I crouch behind the thick brush, watching. Her expression is tight, her breathing uneven, like she’s been doing something she shouldn’t have. Her eyes are distant and unfocused.She hesitates before taking a step away from the ruins, like something inside is calling to her and she wants to run away.She’s clearly a wit

HildaArlo keeps running his hands over me, looking for wounds. I’m bruised, but mostly whole and I know the baby is fine.He never leaves my side, but he’s barely spoken since he stormed in to find me kneeling over Damon’s corpse, covered in blood.He immediately dropped to his knees, cupping my face with hands that trembled, his eyes scanning every inch of me as if he needed proof I was whole. He wrapped me in a blanket and carried me to the communal bath house, ordering everyone out before carefully bathing me, while others cleaned the mess I left behind.Now, back in our cabin, he paces, his muscles wound tight, his jaw clenched so hard I swear I can hear his teeth grinding. The bond between us hums, thick with his emotions. Relief, rage, something darker and desperate that coils beneath the surface, begging to be let out.I move toward him, placing a hand on his chest. “Arlo, I’m fine-” He spins so fast I barely have time to react before his hands are on me, rough and needy.“You

HildaTara’s cottage is on the outskirts of the pack lands, a modest, weathered place half-swallowed by the creeping forest. My boots crunch over the frost-stiffened ground as I approach, the sense of unease that’s been gnawing at me sharpening with every step.I knock, then push the door open when I hear a quiet, “Come in.” Tara is sitting at her kitchen table, her hands curled around a steaming mug that smells of peppermint and ginger. She must have a headache.She looks up as I enter, her grey eyes guttering with something. Surprise? Apprehension? It’s gone too fast to tell. I close the door behind me, grateful to be out of the cold. “Tara, how are you?”“Hilda,” she replies, her voice careful, controlled, “This is an unexpected surprise. You look well.” I smile, unable to return the compliment.I take a seat across from her, studying her. She looks thinner than I remember, her sharp features more pronounced, eyes blazing far too brightly, and there’s a tightness around her mouth t

HildaThe first thing I feel is the cold. A sharp, creeping chill that seeps into my bones, settling beneath my skin like frost in the dead of winter. It’s wrong. Unnatural. The kind of cold that isn’t caused by wind or lack of warmth, but by something evil spearing you with its gaze.I force my eyes open, but the darkness is suffocating, thick and impenetrable. The kind of black that exists only in nightmares, where light doesn’t dare to reach. My pulse quickens as I shift under the blankets, reaching instinctively for Arlo, but his side of the bed is empty, the sheets still warm.The sensation of being watched tightens around me like a noose. I hold my breath, listening, my fingers curling around the dagger I still keep stashed under my pillow. I know better than to ignore instincts like these.The room is silent. There’s no wind rattling the windows, no rustling of leaves outside, not even the distant howls of patrolling wolves. Just an absolute, unnatural stillness. And then, the

HildaSleep eludes me. Even within the warm and comforting confines of my mate’s embrace. What was that earlier? I’ve never sleep walked in my life and the thought of it happening again scares the crap out of me. Can Arlo sense that I’m wandering off while I’m asleep?I lie in bed, staring at the wooden beams above, my eyes tracing the familiar knots and imperfections in the ceiling, as if finding a pattern will quiet my mind. It doesn’t. My body is exhausted, yet my thoughts are restless, refusing to settle.Arlo sleeps soundly next to me, his breathing deep and steady, an anchor of warmth against my side. For a few minutes I trade the boring expanse of the ceiling for his magnificent form. I don’t think he’ll ever stop taking my breath away with his beauty.I should close my eyes and let myself drift, but that feeling of something evil slithering through the air, watching and waiting for the right moment to strike, refuses to let me go. I can’t let down my guard or it will com