Mates: Werewolf Short Stories

Elara POV After twenty-eight years, I have come to understand that the voice in my head wasn’t mine. It didn’t speak in words, not exactly. It pressed against my chest like a second heartbeat, heavy and restless, tightening every time night fell. At first I blamed exhaustion. Too many late shifts at the library. Too much quiet. Too much time alone with my mind. But exhaustion didn’t ache like this. I stood at the edge of the forest just outside town, my boots sinking slightly into damp earth. The trees loomed taller here, darker, their branches knitting together overhead like ribs. Cold air slid down my spine, sharp with pine and wet soil. You shouldn’t be here. The thought wasn’t formed in language, but I felt it all the same, fear edged with anger, pain threaded through both. Loneliness so deep it made my heart ache. “I know.” I whispered, my breath fogging. “I know.” The pressure in my chest eased. Just a little. That was when I realised I was answering something. I didn’t remember deciding to walk forward. One moment I was standing at the tree line, the next I was deeper in the forest, leaves crunching softly beneath my feet. Every instinct I’d ever had told me this was a mistake. That nothing good waited for women who walked alone in the dark. But the pull was undeniable. It wasn’t dragging me, it was inviting me. You’re hurting. I thought, and the ache in my chest flared in response, hot and immediate. My heart began to race. “Hello?” I called, hating how small my voice sounded. No answer. Just the sense of something vast shifting ahead of me. I felt him before I saw him. The air changed, somehow getting thicker and charged with some sort of electricity. The pressure in my chest spiked so sharply I gasped, clutching my jacket over my chest. Fear flooded me, raw and instinctive, but it tangled with something else. Relief. Recognition. He stepped into the clearing like the forest itself had shaped him. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Still. Moonlight caught on sharp cheekbones and dark hair, eyes too bright green to be normal. He looked at me like I was something fragile he’d found where I didn’t belong. “Go home,” he said. His voice was low, controlled but laced with violence barely held in check. I should have run. Instead, I shook my head. “I can’t.” His jaw tightened. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” He said in that low voice and I felt a shiver run down my spine. “I know.” I said, surprised by how steady my voice was now that I was actually face to face with this stranger. I looked at him for a moment in thought. “You’re in pain.” I blurted out without meaning too. Something flickered across his face… shock, maybe fear. The pressure in my chest surged again, but this time it wasn’t sharp. It was heavy. Like grief that didn’t belong to me. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said again, more harshly. “You’re human.” I stared at him for a moment again. “I know,” I replied softly. His eyes flashed red. The sudden sight of the change rooted me to the ground. I didn’t understand what he was… only that every part of him was coiled tight, as if he were holding something enormous inside himself. Something angry. Something desperate. Something to be feared but strangely enough… I wasn’t afraid. “You need to leave,” he said. “If you stay, you will get hurt.” I swallowed. “I already am.” His gaze snapped back to me. I pressed a hand to my chest, right where the ache lived. “I don’t know how to explain it… but every time you hurt, I feel it and it draws me to you.” Silence stretched between us, thick and humming. The forest seemed to lean closer, listening. His breathing was uneven now. Like he was fighting himself. “You don’t understand what you are to me.” he said, his voice rough. “Then tell me.” I said. “Because I can hear you. Not your voice… but… you.” I spoke. Not sure if what I said sounded right but I didn’t know ho else to say it. His eyes widened just slightly. The pressure in my chest eased again, warm this time. Comforting. Whatever was inside him shifted… calmed. For the first time since the voice had found me, the ache didn’t hurt. It settled. He took a step back, fear flashing across his face so quickly I might have imagined it. “No.” he muttered looking away from me. “This isn’t possible.” “What isn’t?” I asked. His gaze lifted to mine, and something terrified looked out through his eyes. “You’re my weakness.” he said. The words should have frightened me. Instead, they felt like truth. “Or…” I said quietly. “I’m the thing that keeps you from breaking.” The forest went utterly still. Whatever lived inside him went silent. And in that silence, I knew without knowing how, that meeting him had changed something fundamental. Thorne POV I had not felt silence in my head for years. Not real silence. The wolf was always there, scraping, snarling, pressing against my bones like it wanted out of my skin. Every night was a test of control. Every breath a negotiation between man and beast. Until her. The moment she spoke, the wolf stilled. Not retreated. Not subdued. Listened. Calm. I stood there, thirty-five years of discipline unraveling in my chest, staring at the human woman who should not exist. Her scent was everywhere, warm, alive, devastating. Mate. The bond slammed into me so hard my knees nearly buckled. Human. Impossible. Dangerous. Mine. The wolf whispered, reverent and fierce. I forced my claws back under my skin, pain blooming down my arms as I clenched my fists. She was too close. Too fragile. One wrong breath, one loss of control, and I could kill her. “You need to leave.” I told her, because it was the only mercy I had left to give. But she didn’t run. She looked at me like she could see the cracks I’d spent a lifetime hiding. When she spoke again, the wolf leaned toward her voice like it had been starving. Anchoring him. The word hit me like a curse passed down through bloodlines older than my pack. Listener. The elders’ stories came rushing back… humans born to hear the wolf, to tame it. To almost always to become consumed by it. They rarely lived long enough to be full mates. The werewolf mates would go mad and die afterwards from grief. Fear wrapped tight around my ribs. If the pack sensed her, they would either chain her to me, or kill her to keep control. And if I stayed near her, I could possibly kill her without meaning to. I took a step back, shaking my head. “No.” I whispered, more to myself than to her. “This isn’t possible.” “What isn’t?” She asked so innocently. Confused. I looked at her then, really looked, and felt the bond tighten, fierce and unbreakable. “You’re my weakness.” I said, because it was the truth. But as the wolf settled fully for the first time in years, I realized something far more terrifying. She wasn’t just my weakness. She was the only thing standing between me and becoming the monster my pack feared I already was. And for the first time in my life… I didn’t know whether to run from her. Or beg her to stay.