Abandoned by Fated Mate

The scent of medicinal herbs and dried blood filled my nostrils as consciousness slowly returned to me. My eyelids felt impossibly heavy, but I forced them open, blinking against the dim light of the Healer's Den. Pain radiated through my body in dull, throbbing waves. I tried to move, only to feel the sticky dampness of my silver-grey fur still matted with blood and rain.

Memories came back in flashes – running patrol at the northern border, the sudden ambush of rogues, claws tearing into my flank, the thunderous storm that had disoriented me as I fought for my life. I remembered calling out to Blake through our mate bond, desperate for help as darkness claimed me.

"Blake," I whispered, my voice hoarse and barely audible.

Through blurred vision, I could make out his tall figure across the room. My Alpha. My mate. He stood with his back to me, shoulders tense, head slightly tilted in that familiar way that told me he was deep in a mind-link conversation. His fingers tapped impatiently against his thigh – a habit he had when he was fully absorbed in something he considered important.

But it wasn't me he was focused on.

"Alpha Blake," Elara's voice came from beside me, startling me. I hadn't noticed the pack healer standing over me, her hands gentle as they checked the bandages wrapped around my torso. "Your mate needs you."

Her tone was respectful but firm, the special authority that came with being the pack's healer – the only one who could speak to an Alpha without fear when it came to matters of health.

Blake's head jerked slightly, but he didn't turn. "Just a minute," he muttered, his mind clearly elsewhere.

Elara's lips pressed into a thin line as she leaned closer to check my temperature. "The attack nearly killed her," she whispered, low enough that only I could hear. "Three rogues. She fought them off alone while calling for help. She's lucky to be alive."

The weight of her words hung in the air between us. Lucky to be alive. And yet my mate stood across the room, mind-linking with someone else instead of rushing to my side.

"Who is he talking to?" I asked, my voice cracking.

Elara's eyes flickered with something – pity? concern? – before she busied herself adjusting my blanket. "I couldn't say," she replied, but the careful neutrality in her voice told me everything.

Lauren. He was mind-linking with Lauren.

A cold feeling settled in my chest, heavier than the pain of my wounds. I watched as Blake's face softened into a small smile, completely unaware or uncaring that I had regained consciousness after nearly dying.

"Your mate needs you," Elara repeated, louder this time, the reprimand clear in her tone as she straightened up.

Blake finally turned, his expression shifting quickly from annoyance to a practiced concern that didn't reach his eyes. "Quinn, you're awake." He approached my bedside, his movements lacking the urgency one would expect from a mate who had nearly lost their other half.

"I called for you," I whispered, searching his face for any sign of the anguish I would have felt had our positions been reversed. "During the attack. I called through our bond."

"I came as soon as I could," he replied smoothly, but his eyes darted away from mine. "Pack business. You understand."

Pack business. The excuse he always used lately.

As he reached out to touch my hand, I caught a faint scent on him – floral, sweet, distinctly feminine. Not mine. The scent clung to his wrist, where Lauren must have touched him recently.

Something shifted inside me then – a tiny crack in the foundation of everything I had believed about us, about our sacred mate bond blessed by the Moon Goddess herself.

For the first time since we had been paired, I allowed myself to wonder if what we had was truly what a mate bond was supposed to be. As I lay there, broken and bleeding while Blake's thoughts remained with another, a small voice inside me whispered a question I had never dared to ask before:

If this is what it means to be loved by my fated mate, why does it feel so much like being alone?