Page 38 of Destined Mate

Elmer’s lips twisted into a sneer. “You’ve got some nerve. Fine. I accept.”

A murmur rippled through the onlookers as they formed an irregular ring just beyond the stone boundaries. Elmer stripped down, his movements slow and deliberate.

“As you know, only betas are allowed in the challenge ring, but they cannot enter our battle. If they do, the alpha they belong to automatically forfeits the challenge and loses,” Wesley declared.

“I know the rules of a challenge,” Elmer snapped. “That means the two who are with you must leave, since they smell like gammas.”

Wesley slightly turned his head to stare at Theo and Duncan. “He’s right.”

Both looked concerned, but they stepped out of the stone circle. Wesley understood why. He only had one beta with him, and that was Keith. Elmer had two. And he didn’t trust the other alpha any further than he could throw a werewolf by the tail.

“Remember, do not enter the ring, and don’t let those two goad you into doing something stupid.”

“We won’t,” Theo said, then slipped his hand into his pocket.

Wesley glanced down and saw that Theo held his cell phone. Looking back up, he nodded slightly.

Whatever that dream he’d been having was, he’d seen the results. This wouldn’t be a clean fight, and videotaping it wouldprove Wesley’s claim if or when the Council of Wolves got involved.

Wesley turned and faced the circle. There was a rush of primal clarity as his wolf surged just beneath the surface, eager and wild. That was his mate standing there, and nothing, absolutelynothing, was going to stand in his way of claiming what fate had granted him.

Then Elmer shifted and Wesley followed.

Elmer’s wolf was as black as his heart, and he was huge. Massive. Bigger than Wesley, in fact, but he wasn’t worried. They circled each other, Wesley’s muscles coiled and ready.

Elmer struck first—a blur of movement, quick as lightning, charging toward Wesley with ferocious intent. His first blow was a feint, swift and deceptive, leading into a brutal lunge aimed at Wesley’s flank.

Wesley saw it coming. He twisted midair, using instinct as his guide, rolling with precision. Fur brushed against his teeth as Wesley countered.

He just missed sinking his teeth in his target as he snapped back with razor-sharp accuracy. Elmer narrowly dodged the attack.

They circled each other like the predators they were, moving with calculated intensity. Neither showed even the slightest hint of weakness.

The ring of spectators held their collective breath as the two alphas stalked each other. Each step was measured, each movement deliberate, the space between them fraught with tension so thick it almost seemed to pulse.

They engaged in a feral dance, eyes never wavering, both unwilling to concede even an inch. Their shadows flickered against the stones, growing and shrinking from the light from the torches. An electric charge hung in the air.

The restraint was maddening but calculated, an expert demonstration of power and control. Each of them was waiting for the perfect moment, the instant when the other would falter, even if only for a split second.

It was an unspoken dare. Neither flinched, neither gave in. The pause built to a furious crescendo until it seemed the very air might shatter.

Then they both attacked at the same time. Dirt kicked up in clouds beneath them as they tore into each other again—each clash more ferocious than the last.

Wesley felt each impact resonate through his muscles and bones, a symphony of pain and adrenaline that only fueled his determination to push harder, bite harder.

Elmer let out a savage howl of rage as Wesley’s jaws clamped down viciously on his shoulder, the sharp teeth sinking into his flesh with a punishing grip.

The attack was swift and brutal, yet Wesley released just as quickly, slipping away like a shadow to dodge Elmer’s retaliatory strike. The rogue alpha staggered momentarily, his body trembling with the effort to regain his footing, muscles tensing as he prepared for the next clash.

Around them, the pack paced as they watched.

Wesley feinted to the left, his movements smooth and deceptive, but at the last moment, he surged upward from below. This unexpected maneuver caught Elmer completely off guard, giving Wesley the advantage he needed.

He barreled into Elmer with a heart-stopping force, the impact so intense that it sent a spray of blood arcing through the air from Elmer’s wounds. The crimson droplets splattered across the stone surfaces, creating jagged red stars that stood out starkly against the dark backdrop of the night sky.

Elmer staggered back, wounded now—the shock plain on his face—but still stubbornly refusing to admit defeat even at great cost.

Wesley needed to end this now.

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