Chapter 4: She Is Our Mate

Emma's POV: The most beautiful face I've ever seen. Dark hair—black as midnight—falls across his forehead in soft waves. His features are sharply masculine—strong jaw, high cheekbones, straight nose—but somehow elegant at the same time. Not pretty like Lucian's golden perfection. This is something rougher. More real. And his eyes. Deep brown flecked with gold, like amber catching sunlight. They're focused entirely on me with an intensity that makes my breath catch. "I've got you," he says again, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through my chest where I'm pressed against him. "You're safe." We're flying—actually flying—through the air. No wings. Just magic. His scent hits me suddenly—cedar and rain and something else. Something wild and clean and utterly intoxicating. Nothing like Lucian's cloying sweetness. This is fresh air after being trapped in a tomb. We land on solid ground across the ravine. My legs buckle immediately. His arms tighten, keeping me upright. "Easy," he murmurs. "Take a moment. You're in shock." Shock doesn't begin to cover it. I'm trembling so violently my teeth chatter. My mind can't process what just happened—the fall, the rescue, this impossible stranger who appeared out of nowhere. "This—" My voice shakes. "This isn't real. I'm dead—" "You're alive." His hand comes to my face, tilting my chin up gently. His touch is warm. Solid. Real. "I caught you. You're safe now." His eyes search mine with an expression I can't read. "I'll take you home," he says quietly. The words don't register at first. Then— "What? No—no, you can't—" I pull back, panic flooding through me. "Lucian's guards are everywhere. They'll catch me before I get a mile—" "They won't catch you." Something fierce flashes in those brown-gold eyes. "I promise." "You don't understand—" I'm babbling now, terror overriding everything else. "He'll hunt me. He'll never stop. He said I'm his and he meant it—" "Emma." My name on his lips stops me cold. How does he know my name? "Trust me. Just for a few minutes. Let me help you." I should say no. Should run. But something in his gaze—something steady and certain and safe—makes me nod. He pulls me close again, one arm around my waist, the other supporting my back. "Close your eyes," he instructs softly. I do. The world lurches. Not flying this time. Something different. Reality itself seems to bend and twist around us. My stomach flips. Pressure builds in my ears. Then—stillness. "You can look now." I open my eyes and stagger. We're in Silver Moon territory. I know these trees. That rock formation. The stream where I used to play as a child. Home. We're actually home. "How—" I spin, staring at him in disbelief. "How did you—we were miles away—" "Magic." He says it simply. Like teleporting across vast distances is nothing. "Your pack lands are just through those trees. I can smell the border markers." He can smell—which means he's a powerful wolf, if he can detect pack boundaries from this far out. "Who are you?" The question bursts out. I need to know. Need to understand how this stranger saved me, brought me home, asked for nothing in return. "What's your name?" Something shifts in his expression. Closes off. "It's better if you don't know." "But I—" I reach for him. "You saved my life. I need to thank you properly. I need to—" "You don't owe me anything." His voice is gentle but firm. "Just... be safe. Be happy. Forget about Red Claw. Forget about—" He stops. Swallows. "Forget about all of it." He reaches into his shirt and pulls out something that catches moonlight. A small horn, carved from bone or ivory, strung on a leather cord. "Take this." He presses it into my palm. The horn is warm from his body heat. Intricate patterns spiral across its surface. "What is it?" "If you need me again," he says, his brown-gold eyes holding mine, "blow it. I'll come." My fingers close around the horn. It feels important. Powerful. He's already stepping back. Preparing to leave. "Wait!" I grab his hand without thinking. He pulls his hand free gently. Steps back further. "Go home, Emma. Your family is waiting." Then he's gone. I stand alone in the forest, trembling, half-convinced I imagined the whole thing. Except I'm here. On Silver Moon lands. He was real. And I'll never know who he was. I turn toward home and run. Ethan's POV: Earlier that night— I smell her the moment I step through Red Claw's gates. Wildflowers and rain aron roar to life in my mind with desperate urgency. 'MATE. Our mate is here. Close. Right here in Red Claw—' My eyes scan the courtyard automatically, searching. The celebration is in full swing—music, dancing, warriors drinking themselves stupid in my honor. I don't care about any of it. All I care about is that scent. And underneath it— Another scent. Male. Possessive. Lucian's. 'No.' Theron's snarl reverberates through my skull. 'No no NO—' My gaze lands on a building at the back of the courtyard. Small. Two stories. Barred windows. A prison. And her scent is strongest there. "Fuck." The word comes out as a growl. 'He has her.' Theron is beyond rage now—pure feral fury. 'He's imprisoned our mate. Kept her locked up like an animal. I can smell him all over her—he's been touching her, using her, marking her as his—' "I know." My hands clench into fists. Magic sparks along my knuckles—blue-white and dangerous. 'We have to kill him. Right now. Tear his throat out and bathe in his blood—'