Page 7 of The Fated Hunter Wolf
I pressed my palms to my thighs, willing the burn in my core to subside. It didn’t. If anything, it flared hotter.
This was nothing like what fated mates were supposed to be. I knew it because I’d seen Eve’s fated mate bond before she did.
The first time I saw Eve, she had her knees up as she sat on a step of the alpha estate house, just a kid, looking as lost as I’d ever seen anyone. I was at least six years older than she was. I scented she was Crux like me right away, though I was still a child myself. Eve had been raised by the nannies and staff of Alpha Grayson. I’d had my mother—before she was killed—and because of her, I had all the Crux lore alive in my veins.
It made sense that Eve would be a lost one. Her mother was the most hunted and most feared of Crux wolves. Most packs denied we still existed.
Eve’s mother had been our alpha.
Eve didn’t know she was the alpha’s daughter, for her own safety. That was why I’d watched over her, used silver magic any time I sensed she was injured by that wretched beast, Damian. And it was why I intervened when opportunities arose for me to silently push her out of harm’s way.
Lost ones like Eve were fragile, and being the alpha’s daughter gave her oracle powers beyond what was normal—which was as good as having a target painted on her back. The lost ones had come from the Crux pack’s elite oracle wolves and were the ones the underground packs preyed on most. The lost ones were the most powerful among the Crux, if they survived long enough to realize it.
All Crux, including the lost ones, lived in secret, for their own good. As it was, the Heraclids knew Eve had oracle abilities. Ifthey had known about her heritage in Crux, it could have gone very, very badly. I had to protect Eve from that risk.
I was the Crux head enforcer, after all.
So, when I’d bumped into Eve—intentionally—on Heraclid lands, I’d seen Logan in her heart. That was long before they’d met, and I knew even then that I had a role to play in bringing them together.
“Yikes, silver healing? What have you done now, Mama Sabe?”
Astrid’s voice came from the doorway, dry and teasing, the way it always was when she caught me doing something I’d rather keep hidden—which was more often than I’d like. I glanced up to find her leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at her lips. The morning light filtered through her unruly blond hair, making her look like a mischievous forest sprite. She wasn’t my biological daughter, but she gave me enough attitude that I knew exactly what mothering a teenager was like.
“Nice to see you, too,” I said, setting the bowl upright again. “Shouldn’t you be off terrorizing squirrels or something?”
She stepped inside, her sharp blue eyes immediately locking onto me with a focus that was too perceptive for someone her age. The girl was barely eighteen, with the soul of an elder, despite her adolescent cheekiness. Crux power ran deep in her, and I couldn’t wait for the day when she’d be able to release it. Saving her from the clutches of those sick shifter traffickers when she was a small thing was one of my favorite memories. But she’d had nowhere else to go, no host pack or Crux family that she knew of, so she came home with me. “What’s with the sass, Sable? You only get like this when you’re hurt.”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, brushing her off with a wave of my hand. “Just practicing some silver work. Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Uh-huh.” Astrid dropped to a crouch in front of me, her smirk fading into a more serious expression. “Let me see.”
“Astrid—”
“Save it,” she said. “You know I don’t buy that ‘I’m fine’ crap. You’re about as subtle as a grizzly when something’s wrong.”
I huffed, leaning back against the wall as she reached out, her hands hovering just above my skin. Her gaze flickered with the faint golden glow of her wolf as she started her work. Unlike silver magic, Astrid’s gifts didn’t deal with blood and flesh. It went deeper, brushing against the parts of you that didn’t scar over so easily. It was invasive, almost uncomfortable, and, worst of all, she was always right.
“Could you not use your soul-scanning superpowers when I’m busy trying to look cool?” I muttered.
Astrid snorted, but her concentration didn’t waver. “Cool? Please. You’re sitting in a leaky shack playing with silver like some low-budget witch. Nobody’s mistaking you for cool.”
“Thanks for the pep talk.”
“You’re welcome.” Her brow furrowed, the glow in her eyes brightening. “Sable… you know as well as I do that this isn’t poison ivy or whatever bullshit you were about to throw at me.”
“Watch your language.” I sighed and looked away, focusing on a knot in the wooden wall. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“That’s what you always say,” Astrid murmured. “Until you can’t.”
The words settled between us. She’d seen me at my worst, more times than I cared to count, which was how she’d discovered she had healing abilities wrapped up with her ability to read someone’s emotions. My run-ins with other packs had left invisible scars that only Astrid could sense. I’d seen what enemies had done to our Crux girls, and the despair of it was enough to send anyone mad.
I sighed, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “I’ll be fine, okay? Don’t worry so much.”
Astrid swatted my hand away, a faint smile creeping back onto her face. “Someone has to. You’re hopeless on your own.”
I couldn’t help but smile back. Astrid knew all I did for Crux pack and that I was anything but hopeless… except when it came to taking care of myself. “Yeah, yeah. Now go find those squirrels.”
She laughed, a sound that somehow made the burn in my chest just a little more bearable. Until she spoke her next words.
