Hunted
The forest had become my prison and my sanctuary. It was the perfect place to hide—until it wasn't.
For two weeks, I'd been living like a ghost, scavenging scraps from the pack hotel's trash bins and staying far from the main road. It wasn't dignity; it was survival. The whispers of war were everywhere. Every rogue had been drafted into the pack armies to prepare for the alien wolves. The predictions stated the first ship would land four days from now.
Yet, even the looming apocalypse couldn't distract him.
The Lycan King.
He'd been hunting me relentlessly. His guards combed through the forests, their patrols growing more frequent, their taunts more vicious when they picked up my trail. Being crippled made it impossible to move quickly. Every push of my wheelchair was agony, every escape was a gamble.
But tonight, I could feel it. The hunt was over.
The sound of footsteps broke the silence. They were close—too close.
My heart pounded as I shoved the wheels of my chair, forcing it through the underbrush. The branches scraped against my arms, the uneven terrain jolting my battered frame. I had to keep going.
"She's nearby," a voice called out.
"She thinks she can run from us?" another sneered, laughter laced with cruelty. "As if a useless cripple could outrun the Lycan King's men."
Their words hit like daggers, but I couldn't stop. Not now. My lungs burned with every labored breath. My arms screamed in protest as I pushed harder, faster, my wheels catching on roots and rocks.
And then, I heard it—a whistling sound cutting through the air.
An arrow.
I ducked just in time. The arrow missed me by inches, lodging itself in a tree ahead. Panic surged through me. They were toying with me, enjoying the chase.
"There she is!"
I glanced over my shoulder. Four of them emerged from the shadows, their faces twisted in mockery.
"Look at her," one said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Did you think you could escape the King, little girl?"
"Pathetic," another chimed in, pulling out a dagger and twirling it between his fingers. "You should've crawled back to him like the dog you are."
I gritted my teeth, refusing to let them see my fear. "Leave me alone!" I shouted, gripping my wheels tightly.
But they only laughed.
"She's feisty," one said, stepping closer. "Too bad the King's orders are clear. You're coming back with us, whether you like it or not."
They moved in, surrounding me like wolves closing in on prey. My back hit something solid—a cave entrance. I was cornered.
"Don't touch me!" I yelled, kicking out as one of them grabbed my chair.
"Oh, she's got some fight in her," he mocked, yanking me forward.
I screamed, thrashing wildly, but it was no use. They were stronger, their claws digging into my arms as they dragged me from the chair. Tears blurred my vision, but I refused to give them the satisfaction of breaking.
"Maybe we should teach her a lesson first," one whispered, his breath hot against my ear.
A guttural growl echoed through the forest, silencing the guards instantly.
The air shifted, heavy with authority. I felt it before I saw him—a presence so powerful it made my wolf stir, a sensation I hadn't felt since the mating ceremony.
From the shadows, a man emerged.
He was tall, taller than even the Lycan King, his frame carved from stone. His black hair fell messily across his face, but it was his eyes that stole my breath—silver, glowing with raw power. His aura was suffocating, an Alpha's command amplified tenfold. Even the guards hesitated, their bravado faltering under his gaze.
"Who the hell are you?" one of them demanded, though his voice shook.
The stranger didn't answer. Instead, he moved with lethal precision, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye.
The first guard lunged at him, claws extended. He sidestepped effortlessly, grabbing the wolf by the throat and slamming him into the ground with a sickening crack.
The others attacked in unison, but it was like watching wolves fight a hurricane. He was a blur of motion—dodging, striking, breaking bones with savage efficiency. Blood splattered the forest floor as he tore through them, his movements a symphony of controlled violence.
I couldn't look away.
Every strike, every step, radiated dominance. The guards didn't stand a chance. One by one, they fell, their bodies lifeless at his feet.
When the last wolf collapsed, he turned to me.
My breath hitched as our eyes met.
The raw intensity in his gaze was overwhelming, an unspoken claim that sent shivers down my spine.
He stepped closer, his presence all-consuming. The world seemed to fade, leaving only him.
And then, he spoke.
"Mate," he growled, his voice deep and possessive.
The word echoed in my mind, a mixture of fear and something I couldn't name.
Oh goddess! He's my mate!
"You… you're my mate," I whisper, my voice trembling with equal parts disbelief and wonder. Excitement churns inside me. Could it be? Had the Moon Goddess finally heard me? Maybe she hadn't forgotten me after all.
He doesn't answer. Instead, he kneels in front of me, his eyes scanning my face with an intensity that makes my stomach twist. Before I can say anything else, he reaches forward and lifts me effortlessly out of my wheelchair. His strength is staggering, his arms firm and sure, holding me as though I weigh nothing. Our faces are so close now, I can feel his breath warm against my cheek. His silence is deafening.
And then I do something reckless. My lips move before my brain can catch up. I kiss him.
The world seems to stop. His lips are warm, soft, yet just kissing him makes me feel electric. My heart hammers against my ribs, a panicked rhythm that screams at me to pull back, to stop before I ruin whatever fragile thing this is. But then he responds, his lips moving against mine with a gentleness that takes my breath away. It's hesitant, controlled, like he's holding something back, but it's there. A spark.
My chest tightens, a wave of fear crashing into me. What if he rejects me? Why wouldn't he? A man like him—strong, powerful, clearly an Alpha—could have anyone he wanted. Why would he want someone like me? Broken. Weak. Useless.
The kiss ends as abruptly as it began. His gaze is unreadable, a storm of emotions swirling in the depths of his dark eyes. For a moment, I think he might drop me, push me away, leave me here to fend for myself. But he doesn't. Instead, he shifts me in his arms and starts walking, his steps deliberate and sure, as though he knows exactly where he's going.
He carries me through the forest, the sound of rushing water growing louder with every step. The air is cool and damp, the scent of moss and earth heavy around us. We emerge into a clearing, and I see it—a waterfall cascading over jagged rocks, the moonlight making the water shimmer like liquid silver. He doesn't pause, doesn't marvel at the beauty of it. He just keeps walking, heading straight for a cave nestled at the base of the falls.
Inside, the air is warmer, the sound of the waterfall muted to a distant roar. He sets me down on what looks like a bed—plush, luxurious, completely out of place in a rugged cave. My fingers brush the fabric, and it feels impossibly soft, like the pelt of some rare animal.
I glance up as he moves to the far side of the cave, retrieving something from a small chest. When he turns back, I see a golden ring glinting in his hand. He kneels before me, and for a split second, I think he's going to propose. But then his hand brushes my knee, and I feel a jolt of warmth spread through me.
I look down and realize I'm bleeding, a deep gash on my knee from earlier. I hadn't even noticed it before, too caught up in everything else. But now, as his fingers press gently against the wound, something extraordinary happens. The blood seems to retreat, the torn skin knitting itself back together in seconds.
I stare at him, wide-eyed. "How…?" The question dies on my lips, swallowed by the weight of his gaze.
There's so much I want to ask, but the words won't come. Instead, something entirely different spills out of me, something I can't take back.
"I don't want to die a virgin."
The words hang in the air, absurd, raw and completely unfiltered. My face burns, heat crawling up my neck as I realize what I've just said. He looks at me, Why is he so quiet?
I push forward, unable to stop myself now. "I've spent my whole life wondering what sex would feel like. Imagining it. Touching myself and wishing it could be more. I don't want to die without knowing what it's like. What it feels like to really connect with someone."
His silence is unbearable, so I reach out, my fingers brushing his arm. His skin is warm, solid beneath my touch. "You're my mate. And I'm yours. Please…" My voice cracks, but I don't care. "If the Lycan King finds me tomorrow and kills me, I want to know what it's like—just once."
His jaw tightens, a muscle twitching as he processes my words. I can feel the tension radiating off him, a silent storm brewing just beneath the surface. He looks at me like I'm something fragile, something he's afraid to break. But there's something else there too. Hunger.
"No names," I add quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Let's just enjoy tonight. Figure out the rest later."
He doesn't respond. Doesn't move. For a moment, I think I've crossed a line, that he's going to walk away and leave me here to wallow in my own humiliation. But then, without warning, he leans in, his lips crashing against mine.
This kiss is different. Fierce. Demanding. It steals the air from my lungs, leaves me dizzy and clinging to him for support. His hands are everywhere—my waist, my back, my hair—pulling me closer, like he can't get enough.
And for the first time in my life, I feel alive.