THE ROGUE WOLF

by Klaire London

  "I know you were never meant to be good for me," I exhale, running my palms up my legs. "You tried to kill me, twice. You pushed me up against a tree with a knife at my neck and threatened to end my life there and then. You told me I'd wish that you'd killed me.

  "But you saved me, too. You spared my life in the Alpha Trials, even though I was nothing more than a rogue to you at the time. You fought hard to protect me when others would not, and Josh couldn't. Shit, you even resurrected me today after I drowned in that river." I have to pause to gulp. I feel the water splash in my mouth like a fountain of blood.

  "And you know, I'm glad you didn't kill me," I state defiantly, rising from my seated position. My nails rake down my forearm, drawing blood. "They say there isn't such a thing as fate. That there are no destined mates. But you feel right."

  Damien takes yet another step forward. His feet, clad in black socks, rise and fall in slow motion with each step. "Don't talk me out of this, Aura," he murmurs. "It won't work. I'm going to challenge Hunter tomorrow, no matter what."

  I raise my hands in frustration. "You don't get it! I know you have to do this, and I wish you didn't have to! I know! I know everything you're going through because I've been through it myself, time and time again!" I yell, determined to show him how I truly felt. If he couldn't see, then maybe what I was feeling was wrong. Maybe it wasn't love.

  It's my turn to step forwards, minimising the distance further. I can feel his empowering presence from where he stands, as if his stretched shadow is looming over me like a giant. "Don't you understand?" I lower my voice. Thankfully, we were the only room on this floor. Josh had been placed in a shared room on the floor below us, but I knew he wouldn't be able to sleep - Azra hadn't shown. "I-" I stutter. I had refused to say the words for so long, I was no longer able to say them.

  "I love you," I whisper.

  Damien remains silent. The frigid air is unsettling as is coils around us like a transparent serpent.

  I blink away a tear; feel it roll down my cheek, cutting a channel into the reddening skin. I cast my eyes to the ground when the silence becomes too heavy - it was as I had suspected. He didn't feel the same way I did about him.

  "I love you, too."

  His words slice apart the empty air as if it didn't even exist.

  My heart begins to race so quickly in my chest, I'm petrified that it'll miss a beat, snap the heartstrings, and cease to function. I dart my eyes to his in a microsecond, not even daring to break the eye contact by blinking.

  I study his face. The curve of his perfect lips. The lust encapsulated in his steely blue orbs.

  "What?" I utter without contemplation.

  Damien gulps. I watch his Adam’s apple bulge minutely as he does so. He raises a hand towards me. "I love you. I think I always have," he says. I reminiscent to the time when we first met, and he tried to take my life. How could he have even cared about me when he had threatened to take my life with one slip of his dainty sword only Alpha males were entrusted with? He sees my perplexed look. "I know I almost killed you, and I still regret the arsehole I was. But I admired your courage and your strength. Even in the face of danger, you stood strong when the rest of the world fell around you."

  The corners of my mouth twitch up into their usual toothless grin. I tuck my loose hair behind my ears, the agitating strands tickling the side of my face. "I still don't get it," I sigh, finally feeling free enough to open up to him about the truth. About why I was unsure whether these feelings were as real for him as they were for me. "Guys like you, they don't fall for girls like me. You're one of the most handsome men I have ever seen, and I'm, well, not even pretty."

  Damien takes another step, finally standing right in front of me with his perceptive gaze. He rests his index finger below my chin, tilting it up so he can see every single striking feature of my unusual face.

  "You," he whispers, leaning in. My heart jumps to my throat as a shaky breath leaves my mouth. "Are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on, Aurora. And I don't care about looks, anyway. You're an incredible person who would do anything to save the ones she loves."

  I desperately want to turn away, to tell him that I'm not falling for his handsome face and that he should go and screw some other willing werewolf. But I don't. I can't look away from his stunning features. It's like my eyes are transfixed on the most beautiful sunrise I have ever seen, twilight tangerine and salmon pink staining the sky like permanent dye.

  His hand falls away from under my chin, my head automatically dropping. I quickly raise is again, the my hair falling in front of my eyes without permission. I can still see Damien through them clearly. I can still see him reach out to tuck them behind my ears slowly, the soft skin of his fingers grazing against my burning cheeks. A trail of sparks runs down my spine like an enclosed firework. My feet are already tingling with pins and needles.

  "I love everything about you," he mutters as he finishes tucking my hair away. But he doesn't move his hand. It hovers on my skin like a welcome parasite. "I love the way you don't understand feelings properly. I love the way you scrunch your nose whenever I make a sarcastic comment. I love the way you punched that dick before the Alpha Trials had even begun, right in the nose. I love the way you're proud when someone calls you a bitch. I love the way you scrunch your hands into fists until they bleed when you feel uncomfortable, and I am too far away to hold your hand. I-"

  "Please don't give me a Josh lecture," I sigh, the faint glimmer of a laugh shining through my words.

  Damien smiles, showing his white teeth. They're the brightest thing in the room. "I love you, Aurora," he radiates. "It's a strange thing, love. But it's real. And what's between you and me, it's real."

  "Chas-" I begin, but I'm interrupted as his lips crash onto mine. They're soft as they move, and for once I'm not shocked by the action.

  My hands stay firmly by my side for a second, twitching, not knowing what to do. I've only really done this one or twice before, and the action is foreign to me, like learning a completely new language.

  But my hands abruptly take control. As one of his rests on my face, and the other sides around the small of my back, I use mine to pull his closer. So close, in fact, that there is barely any space separating our bodies. They clutch the back of his t-shirt, swiftly pulling it over his head to reveal his hard body beneath. I catch the glimpse of his ripped body, but sharply turn my attention back to the kiss as his tongue slides into my mouth.

  Sparks ignite up my arms and legs. Everywhere he touches, my body tingles with a longing sensation that I can no longer control. It devours me; it makes me hungry. Hungry for more.

  I jump up, wrapping my arms around his waist as swipes away everything on the closest piece of furniture: an antique evergreen wood table. The dark materials shine reflects the dim light like one thousand fireflies.

  We break away from our kiss as Damien fumbles for my shirt, pulling it off my body. In that moment, I feel completely and utterly exposed. Of course I'm wearing a bra, but I've never shown this much of my body to anyone before, let alone a male. Damien's scrutinising gaze makes my skin tingle.

  "You're beautiful," he whispers, pulling me closer to him. His hands fall to my back, tightening around the skin carefully as it ignites into an inferno of lust.

  His lips fall to my neck, planting kisses where he would mark me. If he marked me.

  I bite my lip. Was I ready to go through with this? But then again, was anyone ever ready?

  If I did this, I was bound to Damien forever. But even in these short few weeks, I feel something telling me deep within my soul that we were meant to be. That I was supposed to with him, whether it was for the rest of my life or his. That if he died tomorrow, I would still love him the way I love him today.

  I bite my lip, dropping my hands to his chest. My slow movement draws his attention, eyes flickering back to my face. He appears worried, although the morphed pigment of his gold eyes tells me otherwise. He was ready.

 
Damien brings a hand back up to my face. "Are you ok?" He states so calmly it makes the hair on my arms prickle at a perpendicular angle to the skin. How could he be so unnerved by the fact that he could die tomorrow? That he could leave everyone behind without so much as batting an eyelash?

  "I don't know," I state truthfully, my gaze falling to the floor. The oak stares back at me blatantly. "Actually, you know what? I'm not ok. How could you be so calm about sentencing yourself to death? These people need you." Damien gazes at me with disdain. "I need you."

  Damien's hand attempts to sooth my soaring anger, but I brush it away. I couldn't lose one of the only people I had left, whom I loved. My mum and dad had died to protect me, as had Noah. I wasn't going to let him follow.

  "I have to," Damien exhales, a stammer in his words. "You know that. I have no choice."

  I breathe in slowly. "I know. I just don't want to lose you," I reply.

  My mate shakes his head. "You won't, I promise." He leans forwards, his forehead pressing on mine and resting there like an unspoken connection.

  I nod, water running down my cheek. It's as if all the tears I haven't cried in the past five years have eventually caught up with me. I think I've cried more in these few weeks than my whole entire life beforehand.

  "You'll win," I utter. I pull him closer to me. "I know you will."

  Damien smirks, but it's not daunting in the slightest. "Are you sure you still want to go through with this?" It takes me a second to figure out that he's talking about mating.

  Was I ready?

  When was I ready for anything?

  Time elongates into an endless string of countless numbers and unphysical matter. I nod my head in consent.

  The corners of my mouth form a smile. "Yes," I say. "Yes, I am."

  20 | Deathmatch

  ❝I know what I'm risking. My life for theirs.❞

  "You don't have to do this," I muse. The air was still and bitter, as if it had been laced with poison, awaiting its chance to strangle me contently.

  I glance warily at the man in front of me, remembering the blissful night before. The way his lips felt on mine. The way it felt when his skin touched mine, so hot, it was if he was branding me.

  My hand subconsciously reaches for the mark on my neck: two pin pricks of whitened skin, where the bite marks had healed over from last night. To any other species, they would be meaningless. A battle scar, and nothing more. But to me, they meant the world. Literally. They showed that Damien was mine, as much as I was his. I had worn a shirt with a high neckline to make sure that it was covered up: I didn't want people to privilege me just because I was the king's mate. I was still Aurora, the girl who had fought, cried, and kept her head down. The girl who was lost.

  The morning had been eventful - more so than I had hoped. All soldiers had been called up to fight, and in the scrabble of weapons, sweat, and armour, Damien had been lying by my side as we enjoyed our last moments together. It was strange how something you loved with all your heart could be torn away by the simple uttering of words; the initiation of deathmatch and Damien's proposed sacrifice. I still can't believe what he's doing, but I know that it's for the greater cause.

  I can't tell myself that he'll die. Or that he'll be ok. Every time I glance at his perfectly chiselled face, I remind myself that it's ok. Damien is going to win, and everything will be over - apart from the aftermath, which will subsequently lead to war.

  "You know I do," Damien states, his jaw taught as he strains his face to keep composure. Despite his best efforts, I can see the cracks through his delicate skin. He's falling apart. I can feel it too. It's like a leach had latched onto my heart, gradually eating away at the organ. It feels like a weight has been placed on my chest, and even with the mightiest of heaves, I haven't been able to light it off. "That's why I was chosen as King."

  I sigh as he reaches out to snake an arm around my waist. Before, it had felt strange, like water and oil refusing to mix. Now it felt as natural as counting from one to ten.

  My ears pick up the unwelcome plod of footsteps. I don't turn around to know that it's Alex approaching us. Logan had made sure that the matter was handled with someone we knew, otherwise I'd be tempted to rip the person's head off. "It's time," the alpha mutters. I can hear the sympathy in her tone, but I cannot bring myself to wrench my gaze away from Damien's fascinating eyes. The gold flecks have returned, brighter and more brilliant than ever before. They shine like the sun on a summer's day, full of life - which could soon be so devilishly snatched from him.

  Damien pulls me closer, closing his eyes and snapping our eye contact in half.

  "You're going to win," I reassure him, but even I do not believe the words.

  My mate reaches forward, placing his lips on mine and lingering for a few seconds. The air is laced with frostbite, but I feel as though I'm sweltering. Sparks tingle through my lips as his soft ones move against mine.

  I shiver when he pulls away. "No matter what happens," Damien begins, "promise me you'll protect the kingdom."

  I almost glare at him in disbelief. I had never wanted to take part in ruling the kingdom, and the only reason I was second in command was because Damien had spared my life in the Alpha Trials. If he died, then the role of leader would fall back onto me, and I was nowhere near ready for that burden.

  "I will," I reply, looking up at him through my dark lashes, my vision shuttered. "I promise."

  Damien takes both my his hands in mine, giving them a hopeful squeeze. A nervous smile twitches onto my face without permission. I bite my lip to try and hide it, but Damien has already spotted the action. He can't bring himself to smile.

  "I love you," he whispers, capturing my lips for what could be the last time.

  I stifle a laugh.

  "So you're about to go off and possibly die, yet you say the most cliché thing possible?" I enquire. I didn't want our possible last moments to be in a chasm of depression and loss. I rifle a hand through his growing hair, the soft tresses delicate to the touch.

  "Sorry, did you want it to be more..." He pauses. "Romantic?"

  I roll my eyes. "I'm not really one of those girls who's into roses and kittens. So no." I reply as my face strains to smile. I can hear the irrational beating of his heart, the racing thump thump so loud in my ears, it's the only thing I can hear.

  A tear rolls down my cheek as I pull him into the tightest hug I can muster. I squeeze my eyes shut so tightly they ache, but the pain is worth it. Damien's hands wrap around me, balling in my coat as the breeze swirls around us with a tormented pleasure.

  "I love you, too," I whisper in his ear so minutely that only he would be able to hear it. I'm aware of the five hundred warriors positioned behind us in case we had to improvise in taking the city back as our own; one thousand eyes, scraping over our existence, our hold, our touch. This was the kind of attention I hated, but Damien made it all disappear into a cloud of fog and blankness.

  We pull away. Somehow, the man before me has managed to keep his composure. His face appears as though it is made of iron: unmoving and expressionless. Exactly what he needed to be to win.

  His hand is still fastened around mine. He holds it even tauter, the skin paler than my usual tanned complexion. I want to pull him back and kiss him, one last time. I want to scream at him not to do it. I want to end Hunter in any and every way possible. I want to watch his blood drip from his throat, succumbing to the blood he had spilt over the course of his life.

  But I don't do anything. I don't tell him that I love him one last time, or that I yearned for his touch. I just stood there as he walked away. His fingers brushed against mine as his hand fell away, mine remaining outstretched. A shiver proceeds like a storm down my spine: I feel lost without his touch.

  As Damien walks to his death, I watch in fear as he clenches his hands into impenetrable fists. The hands I was just holding. I can hear the snow crunch under his boots as I stand, segregated, on looking his fate as his seconds spiralled away into th
e chasm of limbo. The wind pulls furiously at his hair, wrenching it over his head, and possibly into his face. Not that he would care.

  Because everyone knew the rules of Deathmatch. It had long been a tradition in the werewolf world, sought to upturn Alphas from their lead position within a pack. It was a vicious contest, which had to end in one of the two competitor's deaths. It was also stated by law that one of the competitors had to be an Alpha, and it was well known that the matches occurred just for power. Whoever won gained influence over the loser's pack.

  I glance up towards the army standing before us. The swarm of black figures positioned in invisible rows and, each wearing a snarl of bloodlust on their damaged faces. With my enhanced eyesight, I can see the faces of those closest to me. If looks could kill, theirs would've certainly rendered me deceased before I had even got close. The blood staining their face is old, rusted brown clots lying on their skin like unspoken trophies.