Borrowed Time

~Rowena~

It was a long while before my wailing petered out into quiet, ragged gasps. I kept my face buried in the center of Soren’s chest, leaning all my dead weight into him. He kept his arms wrapped tight around my shaking frame, one hand resting on my back while the other gently stroked my hair. I inhaled against his neck, pulling the scent of pine and englewood deep into my lungs. My trembling hands clutched the fabric of his shirt, twisting the cotton between my fingers like a lifeline.

“Please, don’t reject me yet,” I begged. My voice sounded ruined. It was hoarse, broken, barely more than a wet whisper scraping past my lips as I clung to him. “Not today.”

I pressed my forehead harder against his collarbone. “Let me at least have today, even if it’s fake.”

I couldn’t fathom a rejection so monumental happening right now. Not here. We were alone on campus, but the gardens were too open. Anyone could walk by. Anyone could witness the devastating aftermath of a mate bond snapping. The physical toll of an official rejection would leave me writhing on the ground, and doing that today was too much to bear. My mind simply couldn’t process the agonizing reality of him severing our souls while the sun was still shining through the greenhouse glass.

Soren fell silent. The air between us grew thick and heavy. He rocked me gently side to side, a soothing, instinctual motion as he thought over my pathetic plea.

“Alright,” he finally murmured, the rumble of his voice vibrating against my cheek. “Not today.”

He squeezed my shoulders, his grip firm and definitive, before he released me. The sudden loss of his body heat hit me like a blast of winter wind. He stood up from the wooden bench, putting a physical distance between us that mirrored the emotional chasm he had just ripped open.

“I should get going,” he muttered, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Again, Rowena. I’m so sorry.”

He reached out. For a split second, I thought he was going to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I leaned into the ghost of his touch, but he drew his hand away abruptly. He shoved it deep into his jeans pocket instead. Turning with jerky, uncoordinated movements, Soren walked out of the garden. He disappeared into the bustling corridor without a backward glance, leaving me alone with the shattered remains of my life.

I stared at the empty space he left behind. I sat motionless. I felt hollowed out, scraped clean of everything that made me a living, breathing person. Deep inside my chest, my inner wolf paced in circles and cried out in pure anguish. A phantom pain throbbed in my chest where our bond still pulsed, strained and fragile. I felt numb. My tears were used up. What little sliver of hope I had woken up with this morning was ground into dust.

A desperate, pathetic part of me wanted to run after him. I wanted to scream down the corridor. I wanted to drop to my knees and beg him to come back, to choose me over Sloane, to let the mate bond guide him. But my bones felt too heavy. I was exhausted down to my marrow. A small, dark voice in the back of my mind whispered that I shouldn’t have expected anything else. I would never be wanted. I would never belong.

Heaving myself off the wooden bench, I left the garden. My legs moved like lead blocks. The very thought of sitting through afternoon classes after my fated mate just told me he loved someone else made my stomach turn. I slipped out a side exit of the college building, avoiding the main courtyard.

I headed straight toward the woods bordering the edge of campus. Going home wasn’t an option. My foster sister, Nadine, would be there. She would be kind. She would be understanding. But her sympathetic smile and soft pity would only twist the knife deeper into my ribs. Right now, I just needed to be alone. I needed the quiet of the trees.

I scuffed my sneakers on the rough tarmac as the tree line came into view. I took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh, earthy scent of the woods before me. It smelled of pine and englewood. It smelled just like him. I squeezed my eyes shut and violently shoved the thought from my mind.

Before I could reach the safety of the shaded canopy, the rapid sound of multiple footsteps echoed on the asphalt behind me. The heavy, synchronized thud of boots told me I was being hunted. I turned around and saw five girls from Sloane’s crew marching my way. They fanned out as they approached, moving with the coordinated grace of a wolf pack zeroing in on a wounded deer.

Why now?

I contemplated making a run for it. The trees were only fifty yards away. But my eyes locked onto Kendra on the far right. With her long, slender limbs and top-tier athletic abilities, she had always managed to run me down before. I had bruises from the last time I tried to outrun her.

I knew this time wouldn’t end any differently.

Instead of running, I slowed my pace and stopped walking. I let them catch up. They moved with practiced precision, fanning out to form a tight half-circle that blocked my path to the forest, trapping me against the open stretch of the campus parking lot. I folded my arms across my chest, digging my fingernails into my own skin, and braced myself.

“Hello, Emberflake,” Ramona purred. She stood in the center, acting as the de facto leader. A malicious, plastic smile stretched across her face. “What has you running out here with your tail tucked between your legs?”

“Well hello, Ramona,” I sneered back, channeling every ounce of false bravado I could summon. “Why don’t you mind your own business for once? Doesn’t Sloane need her guard dogs to fetch her coffee today?”

I prayed they couldn’t hear the violent tremble in my voice. I prayed they wouldn’t notice my red, puffy eyes and my tear-streaked cheeks.

Raw hatred flashed in Ramona’s dark eyes. Her fake smile vanished. She stepped into my personal space and prodded my collarbone with one perfectly manicured, razor-sharp nail.

“I heard somebody found her mate today,” she mocked in a cruel, high-pitched sing-song voice. She poked me again, much harder this time, her nail digging through my shirt.

I smacked her hand away. “That’s got nothing to do with any of you.”

Ramona retracted her hand and cocked her head to the side, studying me like a bug on a pin. “Oh, but it does. I heard you were getting quite cozy with Soren over in the gardens earlier. And Daphne said she even saw the two of you leave the bathroom area together. Didn’t you, Daphne?”

She didn't even look away from me as she addressed the bottle-blonde girl standing to her left. Daphne merely shrugged, popping a bubble of pink gum, and nodded vaguely as if my impending beating bored her.

“It’s not what you think,” I stammered, stepping back. “He doesn’t even want—”

My words came out jumbled. My throat closed up. I cut myself off, physically incapable of voicing the painful truth out loud.

Ramona made no effort to conceal the sick joy my torment brought her. A cold, predatory grin settled across her face. “He doesn’t want you.”

Hearing it from her mouth snapped something inside me. I decided I had taken enough abuse for one lifetime. I dropped my arms, ducked my shoulder, and tried to push past the tall girl to make a break for the forest canopy.

Ramona wasn’t letting me go. Before I even took two steps, her hand shot out. She gripped my shirt at the shoulder and yanked me backward.

Ramona was strong. She wasn't just using her human muscles; she was pulling on the unnatural strength of her inner wolf. She yanked with enough force to lift me off my feet. I flew backward and slammed hard into the rough tarmac before I could even put my hands out to steady myself.

The impact knocked the breath out of my lungs. I landed flat on my back, the asphalt scraping the skin off my elbows. I immediately rolled over and tried to scramble to my knees.

I didn't make it. Ramona stepped forward and delivered a vicious, swinging kick to my stomach with the pointed toe of her leather boot.

I buckled. All the air left my body in a harsh wheeze. I collapsed forward, clutching my midsection, gasping for oxygen that refused to come. I didn't even have a second to recover before Kendra stepped in from the side. She drove the heel of her shoe directly into my ribs.

A sickening pop echoed in my ears. White-hot agony flared in my side, sending me sprawling flat on the tarmac again.

Ramona crouched down. She grabbed a fistful of my hair at the root and yanked my head back, forcing me to look up into the circle of jeering faces.

“We couldn’t care less about you,” Ramona spat, her breath hot on my face. “Or who you decide to pine over in your pathetic little life. But you got a little too close to Sloane’s man today. We can’t allow that to happen again. Consider this a boundary setting.”

With a feral grunt, she shoved her weight forward and slammed the side of my head against the ground.

Stars exploded across my vision. A deafening ringing noise drowned out the world. The rough grit of the asphalt tore the skin above my eyebrow open. I felt the warm, metallic rush of blood pour from my nose and trickle down from the nasty new gash on my brow, pooling on the ground beneath my cheek.

The girls descended. They continued their assault, turning me into a punching bag. They taunted and laughed while I pulled my knees to my chest, curling up into a tight fetal position in a desperate attempt to protect my vital organs.

I could barely think straight. My mind turned into a thick, gray fog. I cried out with every sharp jab and heavy kick that found its mark. A boot clipped my spine. Another caught my thigh. It felt like they weren’t just trying to teach me a lesson; they were aiming to break me permanently. I had endured their bullying for years—the shoved shoulders in the hallways, the spilled lunches, the cruel whispers. But this was different. This time, they weren’t holding back their wolf strength.

The brutal attack went on for what felt like an eternity. I tasted copper in my mouth. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, waiting to pass out.

Suddenly, the ringing in my ears was pierced by a new sound.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

The voice cut through the air like a physical blade. It was low, dangerous, and dripping with raw, unchecked authority. A voice made of ice and steel.

The girls froze. The kicking stopped instantly.

A new scent washed over the parking lot, rolling over me like a tidal wave. It was overpowering. It was intoxicating. It smelled of dark, musky roses mixed with the crisp, electric echo of a sea breeze.

I couldn’t see the stranger from my curled-up position on the bloody asphalt, but I felt him. Every fiber of my being reacted to his presence. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood up. My racing, panicked heart suddenly slowed, falling into deep, rhythmic beats that reverberated through my battered ribcage. My inner wolf, previously cowering in the dark, sat up at attention.

“Who are you supposed to b—” Kendra started, her voice laced with her usual arrogant venom.

“Let’s go,” Ramona snapped, cutting Kendra off before she could finish the sentence. “Now.”

I heard the frantic scuffle of boots on the pavement. There was genuine, primal fear in Ramona's voice. I listened as all five girls turned and sprinted away toward the campus buildings, their footsteps fading into the distance.

I groaned, slowly unfolding my bruised limbs. I blinked, trying to catch a glimpse of the stranger who had just saved my life. The sticky blood from the wound on my forehead had dripped down into my eyelashes, making it difficult to focus. I squinted in the direction of the dominating sea-breeze scent and feebly rubbed the back of my hand against my eyes, smearing the blood across my cheek.

Standing over me was a boy whose appearance perfectly matched the lethal tone of his voice.

He was cold, striking, and deeply unsettling. His hair was snow white, styled in a ruffled, chaotic mess like he had just walked through a perpetual gust of wind. Dark, harsh eyebrows furrowed over piercing blue eyes that gazed down at me with intense, calculating scrutiny.

“Who—argh!”

I planted my hands on the tarmac and tried to push myself up. A sharp, fiery pain shot through my ribs, stealing my breath and forcing me right back down to the ground.

“Try not to move too much.”

The stranger knelt beside me in one fluid motion. He slid a large, cool hand between the back of my head and the rough ground, supporting my neck.

“Looks like they did a number on your ribs,” he noted, his voice smooth and clinical.

I winced as he gently tilted my head to the side, letting the afternoon light hit my bloody face so he could examine the cut on my brow.

“Didn’t go easy on your face either,” he remarked dryly, his thumb lightly brushing the edge of my jawline.

I let out a pathetic groan as another sharp spasm of pain radiated from my side. The bleeding from my nose had started to slow, but there was no doubt I looked like a god-awful, mangled mess. My clothes were covered in dirt and blood.

“Someone should see to that,” he muttered, his ice-blue eyes scanning my frame. “Do you think you can stand?”

I gritted my teeth and tried to get up on my knees. My core muscles screamed in protest. I failed miserably, clutching my side and moaning in frustration as I sank back down against his supporting hand.

The stranger frowned. “Guess not.”

He shifted his weight. “Why did those girls have it out for you anyway?” he asked.

Without waiting for permission, he reached down. He grabbed my arm and slung it over his broad shoulder, using his leverage to pull me up. He didn't stop there. He went a step further, swinging his other arm under my knees. With effortless strength, he lifted me clean off the ground, cradling me against his chest like I weighed nothing at all.

He took careful, deliberate steps, mindful to be gentle around my aching ribs as he turned and started walking back toward the college campus.

I was too tired, too broken, and too injured to feel any embarrassment about being carried by a guy I didn't know. I let my head drop. I rested my cheek against his chest. Beneath his shirt, his chest felt like a slab of warm marble.

“They’ve never really needed a reason to do what they do,” I whispered, closing my eyes.

I didn’t feel like explaining the truth. I had suffered enough humiliation for one single day. I was not about to explain my fated mate rejecting me for another woman to an odd, terrifyingly handsome stranger.

The vague answer seemed satisfying enough to him. I felt the rumble in his chest as he shook his head in disgust.

“Typical pack politics,” he muttered. “Anyway, we need to get you to a doctor. Make sure nothing is actually broken inside.”

“Hmm,” I hummed.

I was only half-listening. The adrenaline crash was hitting me hard. Fatigue seeped into my bones, dragging me down into a dark void after the horrific events of the day. On top of that, I found I was quite enjoying this boy’s strange, soothing scent. The smell of sea salt and roses was drowning out the lingering memory of pine.

Another sharp jolt of pain from my ribs snapped me out of my trance. I swiveled my head, gazing up at the guy’s profile as he carried me. From this low angle, his jawline looked like the edge of a sheer cliff. Everything about his facial structure seemed sharp enough to cut glass.

“Who exactly are you?” I asked tentatively. I searched my foggy memory. I’d never seen him around the territory before. I was absolutely certain I would have remembered a face like that, not to mention the white hair.

“Kaelar,” he answered smoothly, keeping his eyes on the path ahead. “I’m from the Ironclad Pack further North. My father is down here for an Elders meeting this week. Thought I’d tag along and visit some old friends while he deals with the politics.”

He glanced down, raising one dark eyebrow at me. The corner of his mouth twitched. “And who are you, little Miss five-on-one?”

His piercing blue gaze sent my stomach twisting into nervous knots. My inner wolf stirred, pacing back and forth, responding to this new anomaly of an Alpha with intense curiosity. I realized my mouth was hanging open. I snapped my jaw shut and forced myself to look away from his striking face.

“I’m nobody special,” I mumbled to his shirt.

“That’s a strange name.”

His tone was incredibly flat, yet somehow slightly amused at the same time. I glowered up at his small smirk. I brought the back of my hand up, wiping my nose where fresh blood had started drizzling out again.

“My name is Rowena,” I corrected him, feeling a sudden flare of defensive pride. “I’m a part of this area’s pack, but not really. And this morning I had waffles and syrup for breakfast.”

I turned my nose up and faced away from him again, staring out at the passing trees. I was determined not to share any more details of my incredibly mundane, tragic current life.

We walked in silence for a few more minutes. Kaelar didn't seem to mind the quiet. After a while of being carried around the parking lot like a sack of delicate, bruised potatoes, my patience wore thin.

“Do you, like, have a car?” I asked, wincing as I shifted my weight in his arms. “Or do you plan to walk us all the way to the pack hospital?”

Kaelar didn't answer right away. He rounded the corner of the brick building and shifted me slightly to free up one hand. He fished a set of metal car keys out of his front pocket. Striding confidently across the asphalt, he approached a flashy, impeccably maintained old-school Impala. He pressed the button, unlocking the passenger door, and stooped down, preparing to set me on my feet so he could open it.

Before he could manage to put me down, a familiar scent drifted across the parking lot.

Pine and englewood.

My breath hitched in my throat. My wolf let out a pathetic whine.

“Rowena?”

Kaelar paused. He turned around slowly, keeping me securely gathered in his arms, to face the source of the voice.

Soren stood a few feet away, standing between two parked cars.

“Rowena, what happened to you?”

Soren took a step forward. There was genuine, raw concern bleeding through his voice. His brown eyes were wide as they scanned the blood dripping down my face. He seemed as gentle and caring as he had been in the greenhouse, but a dark, heavy tension radiated from his broad shoulders.

Soren stopped moving. His lips twitched slightly. He dragged his gaze away from my bloody face and stared directly at Kaelar. Soren's eyes dropped down, watching the way Kaelar’s pale, muscular arms firmly handled my body, holding me tight against his chest.

“Soren,” Kaelar said nonchalantly.

My head snapped up to look at Kaelar so fast I damn near gave myself whiplash, sending a fresh wave of agony through my skull.

Kaelar stared back at Soren, his blue eyes gleaming with an unreadable emotion. A slow, chilling smile spread across Kaelar's face.

“Long time no see, old friend.”