Chapter 4

4.

Axel’s Pov

I'm afraid of the concept of mates.

Something so important to my pack, as well as to me personally, and I’ve been told I’ll have no control over it. It feels like a recipe for disaster.

Literally within moments of meeting her, I’ll want to protect her and keep her close, no matter who she is; a rogue, a spy, an assassin, whatever.

Or what if she’s not a bad person, just a horrible woman, that can’t be a good Luna for my pack?

It’ll be the hardest thing ever, letting her go even if there's something important at risk, like my pack. And I don’t want to put my pack at risk. Heck, I haven’t even met her and I don’t want to let her go.

But then again, maybe it’s not that intense, I thought. Look at the bitch who wants to be betrothed to Asher. She hasn’t met him, he’s not her mate and she doesn’t love him. But because of the power it would give her, she’s tossed her mate to the dump. She’ll probably be paid for it too, fucking information whore.

But cradling the soft, warm body of my mate ready to kill for her, I realize that it is that intense. And the piece of shit will die for this.

Goddess, she smells so good, like when I was young and woke up to the sweet smell of cooking downstairs as the crisp winter air clung to my cool skin and sounds of my parents laughing. She smells like life then, from before they were taken from me.

I kiss her forehead and set her down. As she finds her footing, I lunge.

His eyes have been trained on me since I took what was mine from his grubby fingers so he sees me coming and gets out of the way. The son of a mutt is fast, but not fast enough; my claws catch his left arm.

I spin to face the bastard. It’s a scratch, but the blood blooming will be the first drops of many. He’s crouched, sizing me up. I pray to the goddess that he makes the mistake of coming straight for me.

He doesn’t. He turns and runs into the woods, after a glance at my mate. That will cost him his eyes.

I’m right behind him. I throw myself at his back and take us both down. During that brief moment of disorientation, I clamp my teeth down on the same arm.

He howls, a sound filled with pain that makes my heart sing. “Fuck!”

The bastard’s neck was right here but I didn’t go for it. My mate was fucking screaming and crying, and the fuck-face was forcing himself on her. What if I hadn’t heard her?

No. I force my anger down, if not this will be over before I know it. I need to make this slow. I want to savor it.

He blindly punches out his other hand and it hits me in the temple. “What is your problem?!”

It doesn’t do damage but it does slacken my jaw. He yanks his arm from my mouth and tries to pull out the body I’m pinning down with mine. I let him but, at the last moment, press my weight firmly down on his right leg.

He yowls, as it breaks. There’s skin missing from where I bit down on his arm, in addition to the puncture holes gushing blood. Good, I smirk.

The bastard is scooting away, freaked. I hope he feels even a fraction of what my mate felt. Nothing will fucking save him from me. “Look, man, you-”

I walk forward and grab him by the shoulders. I spit the blood in my mouth, his blood, on his face and he roars. I smash my head against his and he shuts the fuck up.

I drag him over to a tree and slam him against it. All the air leaves him in a pained groan. I stand and rake my claws down his chest, ruining the shirt and skin underneath. Not too deep now, I’m not done with him. He howls, weakly.

I’ve made my way past his knee when I hear a man huffing his way to where we are. I don’t know who it is because of the smell of blood wafting in the air — I breathe in deep, lovely — but whoever it is will be here soon. I hope they have enough sense to mind their business and pass.

Alpha wade bursts in, eyes wide and panicked. He’s a tall man who wears the authority of his position and the wisdom of his years well. A lot of years too, he has lived long enough to start graying. Maybe in another lifetime I wouldn’t despise him.

“Beast!” he roars. “Get away from my son!”

I laugh loudly. I didn’t know, but it makes no difference to me. Both him and his pup can’t take me.

“Axel!” I walk forward, pulling my hand back. “Touch him again and our deal’s off!”

*

“Are you ok?”

That's the softest I've spoken in years. I even wiped my face and hand down on my inner shirt, not wanting to touch her with his blood. Goddess, I can feel my ears getting hot.

My mate jumps to her feet as I walk out of the woods and clears her throat. “Yes, I am, thank you.”

Fuck, she's beautiful. Her voice is a melodic blend of soft and warm. She’s not tall. She’s slender, with fair skin dimly glowing and thick black hair that falls down her back in a long braid.

I want to hold her again. If she's in my arms, then nothing can hurt her.

“Are you sure your pack doctor doesn't need to take a look at you?”

I unconsciously step towards her and she looks up at me. Fuck. Her big gray eyes sparkle as they catch the light but they're shuttered and wary. She looks away.

“I. . .” She clears her throat again as a blush spreads on her cheeks. My chest warms.

Grinning and feeling like a bloody teen wolf, I step forward until I can smell her again. “Yes?”

“I don't know. . .?”

I chuckle, liking how my mate is flustered. Her cheeks are so rosy. I want to touch them. She fiddled with her dress and looked anywhere but me. My little mate is shy.

Asher won’t believe I found her. And in the same pack his wife is from. I chuckle lowly. Does this mean we're brother husbands?

“What's your name?” I ask, wanting to touch her. I liked how it felt to touch her.

“Selena.”

“Selena. . . “ A pretty name for my little one.

Hmm, Asher’s new wife is Selena. Well, a Selena. There's definitely more than one Selena in a pack this size. “And your surname?’

Weirdly, it doesn’t come to her immediately. “Harris.”

I blink at her dumbly. The moon goddess sure has a sense of humor, I guess.

My mate is to be betrothed to my brother, and there’s nothing I can do, especially as I just beat blood out of the son of the man gripping my balls.

But then again maybe it’s the best. She’s the woman willing to marry someone who she’d never met for social standing, willing to be a plant in a faraway pack for what she can get, not caring about her mate. Not caring about me.

I have to reject her.