Page 69 of Glitched Fates & Stolen Mates

I nodded against his shoulder, not trusting my voice.

When we pulled apart, I forced myself to meet his gaze to ask, “What’s it like? Being bonded to a wolf?”

Theo’s lips twitched up into a smile as he winked at me. “Incredibly hard work.”

“But that’s just Rory, though.”

“Yes,” Theo said, his grin widening. “I suspect so.” He paused, his expression turning serious again. “But Felix… when you do get Kit back, you’ll understand that the pain of separation is nothing compared to the joy of being completely, utterly known by someone who loves every part of you.”

I nodded, and for a moment I let myself imagine it—Kit coming home, Kit safe, Kit and I finally both brave enough to reach for what we wanted. The thought hurt almost as much as his absence, but it was a different kind of pain. One worth holding onto.

Past

October 2026

19

Felix

The woods were even quieter than I’d expected. Kit parked his motorbike at the edge of a small clearing, the engine’s rumble fading into birdsong and rustling leaves. My legs wobbled slightly as I climbed off, still adjusting to solid ground after an hour of clinging to Kit’s waist like a limpet.

I’d been partly dreading this trip ever since Kit had cautiously suggested it a week ago—“Only if you feel safe doing so”—his voice carefully neutral as he explained we could train with him as his wolf out here. The open space would be better than the ballroom.

That morning, I’d almost fainted when he’d sheepishly mentioned it would be faster if we took his motorcycle—“Only if you want to.” It wasn’t until I was on the back of it, and he was instructing me to hold on to his waist, that I fully understood exactly why he thought I might not.

“You alright?” Kit asked, pulling off his helmet. His hair stuck up in all directions. “How was your first ever bike ride?”

“My experience definitely improved as we went along.” I handed him my borrowed helmet, trying not to think about how his laugh had vibrated through his whole body when I’d first wrapped my arms around him and gripped him so tightly they ached. How I’d gradually relaxed into the warmth of his back, watching first the city, then countryside blur past us.

The truth was, I’d been thinking about Kit a lot over the last few weeks.

More than a lot, if I was being honest. Which I tried very hard not to be.

During our training sessions, he remained the perfect gentleman. Never lingering too long when he adjusted my stance. Never making anything weird, despite everything that had happened. We hadn’t talked any further about the stalking. Or the mate thing. It was almost as if I’d imagined finding out about the whole business.

But I still found myself thinking about those large hands of his long after they left my body. About the way he’d looked at me that night in the street—desperate, stripped bare—when he’d told me I was his mate.

About him collapsed on the floor of his flat, shaking and struggling to breathe. The shame and self-loathing written across every line of his face.

Something inside me had broken, seeing Kit—always so strong, so composed—like that. It was something I never wanted to see again.

“So, where exactly are we?” I asked, shouldering my rucksack as we walked away from his bike. All I’d managed to gather was that we were north of London.

“Hertfordshire,” Kit said, leading the way down a worn path between the trees. “Private estate with substantial woodland. Seb bought it back in the eighteen hundreds.”

The canopy overhead filtered the morning light into shifting patches of gold and green. Birds called to each other somewhere in the distance, and leaves crunched under our feet. It smelled different here—earth and moss and growing things instead of exhaust fumes and bins.

“Used to have buildings on it, back when he first acquired it,” Kit continued. “Manor house, stables, that sort of thing. I’m not quite sure why he bought it, to be honest. Anyway, buildings are long gone now. He just owns the land.”

“As you do,” I said.

“As you do,” Kit agreed, and I caught the edge of his grin.

“You know, I’m becoming more and more certain you might have a point about Seb not paying me enough.”

Kit’s booming laugh rang out through the trees, startling a bird from the branches above us. The sound did something funny to my stomach—warm and fluttery. During our sessions together, I’d heard him laugh so many times. Sometimes with me, sometimes accidentally at me. But it was nice. He was always so serious, usually.

“Right,” he said, dumping his bag at the base of an oak tree. “We’ll run to warm up first.”