“I don’t want you, Seth.”
The lie had felt foreign on my tongue, but I said it anyway. Because if he could reject me, if he could make it clear that I meant nothing to him, then I could lie and pretend he meant nothing to me, too.
Except he does. He means everything.
Even after what he said tonight, even after he kissed me like I was precious and then threw it back in my face like it was meaningless, I still want him. The mate bond still pulls at me, still made my heart race when he was near.
And that makes it so much worse.
I splash some water on my face. My reflection wavers in the dark stream—hair a mess, makeup smeared, dress torn. I look exactly like what Seth thinks I am: weak. Inadequate. Less than.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am all those things.
My wolf stirs, pressing against my consciousness, but even she feels broken, whimpering softly in the depths of my mind. She has been wounded by his rejection just as much as I have, maybe more. There’s a despondence to her that I can’t shake off. But there’s nothing I can do; it’s out of my hands. Weakness isn’t something I wanted.Even my healing skills are subpar. Everything about me is. I’d imagined my fated mate would see past that, to the person I am, but I guess I was wrong.
I wrap my arms around myself and settle against a tree, not ready to go back and have everyone see me looking like such a mess. The celebration will end soon. People will go home, return to their lives, forget this night ever happened.
But I’ll remember. I’ll remember the way my mate kissed me like he loved me and then destroyed me like I was nothing.
And tomorrow, I’ll have to see him again. Pretend this never happened. Pretend my heart isn’t shattered beyond repair.
As I sit by the stream, my tears finally dry, my body numb and aimless, I realize the noise from the festivities has grown softer. I must have been here longer than I thought—long enough for my clothes to grow damp from the night air, for the ache in my chest to settle into a hollow emptiness.
I should probably head back. Face whatever remains of the celebration, pretend nothing happened, smile and nod when people ask where I’ve been. I push myself to my feet, brushing dirt and leaves from my ruined dress.
That’s when I notice a metallic scent drifting through the night air. Blood. Fresh and heavy, carried on the wind from somewhere deeper in the forest.
My head snaps up, senses suddenly alert. Then, I hear it: a weak, desperate cry echoing through the trees.
“Help…please…”
My body moves before my mind can catch up. Every instinct I have as a healer urges me to respond, to find whoever is hurt. I stumble forward, my torn dress catching on branches as I follow the scent of blood farther into the woods.
The smell grows stronger with each step, but something else accompanies it now: a strange, unnatural mist that seems to glow faintly red in the moonlight. It clings low to the ground, swirling around my ankles like living smoke. My vision blurs as I breathe it in, making me dizzy anddisoriented.
“Help me…” The voice comes again, weaker this time, more desperate.
I push forward despite the growing fog, my healing nature overriding any concern for my own safety. Someone is dying out here, and I can’t ignore their call. Whatever this mist is, whatever danger may be lurking in these shadows, it doesn’t matter. Someone needs me.
The metallic tang of blood becomes overwhelming as I stumble through the red haze, my hands stretched out in front of me to avoid walking into a tree. My wolf, who has been whimpering and broken since Seth’s rejection, suddenly stirs with an energy I don’t understand. She’s…excited? Alert in a way she hasn’t been all night.
I don’t have time to analyze her strange behavior. The scent of blood is so strong now that I know I’m close.
“Where are you?” I call out, my voice hoarse from crying.
A barely audible groan drifts from somewhere in front of me. Following the sound, I push through a cluster of low-hanging branches and nearly trip over the source.
A man lies crumpled against the base of a massive oak, his body twisted at unnatural angles. Even through the swirling, red mist, I can see the expensive quality of his clothing—fine fabrics and intricate embroidery that mark him as nobility. But his attire is ruined now, torn and soaked with blood that looks black in the strange, dim light.
I drop to my knees beside him, my hands immediately moving to assess his injuries. Multiple deep gashes across his chest and abdomen, a head wound that is bleeding freely, and from the quality of his breathing—shallow and labored—I suspect internal damage, as well.
“I’m here,” I whisper, pressing my hands to the worst of the bleeding. “I’m a healer. I’m going to help you.”
The moment my skin makes contact with his, electricity shoots through me. Not the warm, familiar sensation of my healing magic—this is something else entirely. Something that makes my wolf suddenly howl with recognition and longing.
Even though he’s covered in blood and dirt, there’s somethingabout this man that steals my breath. Dark hair falls across his forehead, and I can make out strong features beneath the blood and grime.
My wolf is going wild inside my mind, pressing against my consciousness with a strange excitement that I don’t understand.
