The Mate That Wasn't Mine novel Chapter 115

MAXIM POV

I know I’ve confused the hell out of Tess with leaving the party. But I want her to have this gift from me first.

Maybe a tiny part of me is worried that Remy is going to kill me. Or do something as batshit crazy as his father. Like I need to leave Tess something other than a leather jacket.

We both have our gifts from Irene, unwrapping them together a few days after Allette left.

Tess wears her brooch every day, whereas Irene created a blade for me. To anyone else it was a regular weapon. Pointy bit for killing, maybe a bit of nasty stabbing. Handle for holding. Simple.

But it was in the metal work of the handle that her skill unveiled itself. She had produced, with great intricacy, a series of looping, interwoven circles and patterns that encased the hilt and guard without ruining the grip.

Tiny trees with branches entwining, were subtly worked into the solid metal handle. My favourite bit was the pair of entwined hands hidden near the base. Disguised as tree roots it was undoubtedly a pair of unbreakable, forever holding hands.

Exactly how Tess and I have always naturally grasped each other, fingers interlocked. The blade has pride of place in our weapons cabinet. I’d hate to actually use it and get blood on it. It inspired me. It’s the reason I moved to the armoury. Reaching behind the long stone wall I felt for the red cloth packet.

“I’ve never made anything for anyone before just so you know,” clearing my throat. I had envisioned this moment being a lot more romantic, but here we are, outside a rowdy packhouse, half–hidden in the dark. Whoops and shouts bounced around us, but I can feel her watching every move I make.

Tess takes the parcel, curiosity written across her furrowed brow. Whilst unwrapping I slowly guide her away from the raucous noise, towards a fiery lantern, allowing us to see more in the dark winter evening. “So, this is what you’ve spent your time on?” she murmurs.

“It took a lot of practice,” I concede. “I thought it would take a week. But turns out Irene was kind of a genius.”

The gasp Tess made will be the sound I treat myself to on my deathbed. “Maxim! No!”

Grabbing the twelve long, feathered arrow shafts she holds them up to the light. Each metal arrowhead has been shaped and formed by hand. The metal heated, forged, battered and shaped under my aching hands.

Not just laced with jagged edges for a more lethal wounding of an enemy. But, like Irene I have added my own swirling emblems. I keep silent, praying

she doesn’t find fault.

“Does that stand for me? Is that T and a P?”

“Yep. Tess Pagano. Then orange trees and fruit,” trying to avoid colouring up at her inspection of my craftsmanship. I want her to like it so badly I’ve reverted to being a nervous boy in a playground.

“There’s even a tiny paw here!”

“Well yeah, the monster is family now,” I concede, secretly thrilled she could make out the shape.

Tess turns, brown eyes glittering, her smile so broad there are dimples threatening. “It is the most beautifu pressing the gathered shafts to her chest.

ve ever seen. They’re beyond precious,”

“Turn them over.”

Checking the other side she gives a little sob, tried to depict the mountain ranges. Which proved to be my nemesis. Restarted over and over. But now it’s perfect. A large W for her original family name stamped proud and large, tapering to the lethal point. The arrows of a Wilder.

Each time I’ve been satisfied with the design I’ve had to shoot a hundred rounds, ensuring the weight is correct, that I’m not giving her a weapon that will

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Chapter 115

betray her in the heat of battle with poor accuracy,

“I read about this custom. In the book Marshal teant me. That making these, or blades, they were the sign you were arily. That you were part of their pack. They had to many skills even though they lived out in the open”

Stroking a length of her fiery hair between my fingers. “I read that too.”

Her face tilts up to me, her pretty pink mouth popping in shock. It gives me a rush of confidence to add “I loved it. And, well, you’re my pack Tase Ma and you. All the fire in my heart is yours. You’re a Wilder and a Pagano”

As always she loses her words. I must have really got her because with her free hand she’s frantically flapping at her face to fan away tears. Only to giv up and throw her arms around my neck, kissing and nuzzling into me with silent caresses.

“I love you, so much. One day I’ll be able to say it as beautifully as you.”

But I don’t need words. Not from Tess. It’s not a competition..

“This says it.” I counter, squeezing her back, tilting her chin up so I can look into her face and bask in the pink glow of her pretty cheeks. Being stood here with me right now. That’s all I need.”

“TUG OF WAR! GET MAXIM WHERE THE HELL IS MAXIM!” erupts like a hunters bugle. Silas remains a party–planning princess of stress. How the huge golden–haired oaf coped on the battlefield but not in front of twenty beer barrels remains a mystery.

Tess laughs into my chest before carefully wrapping the arrows back up. “They’re too perfect to leave around. I’m going to run back to our room with them, and get rid of this” tugging at her gray shawl. “Don’t let the competition start without me!”

With a kiss she runs, clutching her new arrows. I stride back into the packhouse, burning up with pride. Only to catch Marshall’s worried expression. ! follow his gaze and see our Alpha.

Not the smiling, briefly dancing man of the last party. He’s wobbling. At least seven empty beer glasses next to his pristine, brilliant–white clad frame. On his own, he leans against a granite column, studyinging the party. A few more beers lined up waiting.

His fucked–off, arms–folded bitter expression is killing the party atmosphere.

No wonder Silas is playing the tug of war card so soon.

“Maxim! Are you ready!” Silas shouts, beckoning me over. I stride over and whisper in his ear. “I’ve got to talk to Remy first. Do a scavenger hunt. Winner gets his own barrel.”

His eyes, forever the colour of honey glare at me like I’ve murdered kittens. “A fucking scavenger hunt? They’re not children? Are you trying to ruin this for me?”

I sigh. Us men really are. It’s about winning. Always. Everything is about coming out on top. So I leap up onto a table and take charge. “RIGHT THEN!”

Everyone stares at me. “First man to bring Warden Silas here back…a red flag from OUTSIDE of this room, plus three different coloured pieces of gravel… PLUS an empty bottle of wine.”

They all stare at me, waiting. You could hear a pin drop and I wonder how Alpha’s don’t pull this shit all the time. “Well. The Winner gets this baby to themselves and is the official champion of the evening,” giving a rough slap to the huge barrel beside me. “GO, GO, GO!”

Silas‘ mouth hangs open as every man and woman sprints out. I chuckle at the sound of some immediately crashing into each other and falling over as they try to gather gravel too close together.

“Okay fine,” Silas grumbles whilst I smirk, taking my place on top of the table, ready for the first lunatics to come tumbling in.

Meanwhile I steel myself head over to Remy. He hasn’t cracked a smile at my antics, but I don’t need him to. Not for what I’m going to tell him.

“Can we have a word in private Alpha?”

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Chapter 115

“Is that why you’ve sent them all out?”

“One of the reasons.”

The mighty Alpha shrugs himself away from the wall, his movements heavier, cumbersome. Like he’s aged ten years. He leads me to the Bark red of the dining hall. Where Tess once ran after seeing me standing with Hazel. Where she first met Irene and that damn cat. It’s private arough for what i raved to say.

Remy glares. “Well?”

“You haven’t reactivated our mind link. You don’t appear to need my friendship, opinion, whatever it was I was offering before. Which is fine. But it means I’m resigning my position.”

“What? You can’t do that.”

“I can. I’m not a prisoner? I’ve looked into it and Tess and I can afford a small house on the outskirts of the pack. It’s not much, but she’ll be close enough to maintain her Warden Duties, I’ll be facing the villages to earn a living.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The house. The one I took you to?” As he understands his blue eyes narrow, his arms unfold downwards, but his hands remain tightly fisted. “Well, I got in touch with the new owners, and we intend to buy it.”

Remy’s blue eyes blaze. “You would walk away? Years of training, years of trying to get to this very spot! You swore an oath to me!”

“What am I walking from? Being irrelevant? Being insulted for daring to think of ways to improve your knowledge of your own people!”

Remy sniffs and rubs his jaw, I can hear the sound of his teeth grinding together. “Well, I can’t let you leave Maxim,” his voice a deep, rumble of

annoyance.

“You have no use for me! I am still your friend, I care that you look like shit, are grumpy as fuck and look like you want to murder everyone who serves you. What has you so screwed up? Is it Hazel being away?”

The huge Alpha looks up to the ceiling, every inch of tension starts to crack before me. I wait, for him to finally confess. “They haven’t found her yet.”

“Who?”

“The girl from that fucking house. With the pale green eye. She’s my mate. Only she doesn’t know it does she because she’s a fucking exile with no connection to her wolf!”

“She’s your mate?”

Finally the big idiot crumbles, his back hits the walls and he slides down it to a sitting position. He croaks out. “I don’t even know her name. But she’s gone. Vanished. My wolf is killing me. I ripped those record out of Marshall’s hands today and studied every single page. Nothing. Not her or the old

_woman.”