The Mate That Wasn't Mine novel Chapter 15

Chapter 15

TESSA POV

Every few days when we arrive for breakfast, the huge dining hall with its blood drapes grows a little more sullen. The big personalities, the fellow first–years who gave the impression they would be walking the process with ease are the ones vanishing.

Seeping away back through the barbed wire, the moats and stone walls back to their respective districts, with no further opportunity to return.

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We have formed a routine. Something close to an understanding. It’s been a fortnight since I crash landed my way into his lap and somehow turned that into a somersault into his bed.

There are multiple Tessa’s in existence now. The sharp, alert huntress when shifted. There is the Tessa who apparently has a mate and some friends. I’m learning my way around the sprawling packhouse, closer to calling it home every day.

Then there is the pathetic little hermit who hides away every single night, pretending not to dream about the man laid next to her.

Every day, I diligently wear the beige and gold uniform of the first years. A golden brown, loose cotton top fastened with a beige belt around the waist. I’ve learned to keep my long hair tightly plaited for Archery so it doesn’t whip my face.

I listen intently to every Warden’s instruction. I don’t question. Sometimes I wonder what Maxim would do and purposely do the opposite. That’s been helping deal with various Wardens.

Plus, when Alpha Hale watches over our practices I’m learning to ignore the prickling sensation rioting out of my wolves nerves. Even so, being in any kind of proximity to the Alpha is terrifying.

His command of this place, the power he wields over all of us feels doubly

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concentrated when you’re trying to shoot an arrow. His piercing blue eyes feel like they could redirect the arrow away from the target through sheer willpower alone. He gave us a demonstration, his specially made bow almost as tall as myself, his arrow piercing straight through the trunk of a

tree.

Princess Hazel and Luna Sabrina take daily walks together. I’ve ended up passing them on our scent–tracing trials several times. It seems to amuse them, their blue eyes sparkling as I pant on by. I might be shifted into wolf form but running across two perfect, blonde goddesses still makes you feel like shit.

That feeling only continues when they occasionally wander into the

dining hall on an evening. Our exhausted, rumpled carcasses remain at odds with their ethereal perfection, especially against the harsh gray stone walls and blood–red banners.

My legs permanently ache and I’ve been sick on the archery field three times. Try as I might, every evening I end up leaning into Maxim’s warm, cosy body. Letting the weariness be absorbed by his solid frame. Only for Maxim to proudly inform me last night that he was never ill once on the archery field. A perfect record.

“LIES!” Kai and Silas erupted, braying with laughter, slapping the table in remembrance until I got the giggles.

The giggles morphed into something else when Maxim’s arm wrapped around my shoulders, muffling my giggles into his chest, protectively waving his other hand at his traitorous friends.

“Do I have to go into what Kai used to do with his hair before the spikes tufts?”

“Oh now that’s totally fucking unfair!” Kai sulked, looking even more babyish with his arms crossed and dark eyebrows scowling. “Do our years together mean nothing to you!” causing Silas to choke on some crust.

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It’s deceptively easy. I feel like Cinderella living her dreams for a few hours every evening. Allowing myself to reach for his hand, lean a little closer, find his tongue with mine.

Then I force myself to shut it down.

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No more touching or kisses. I don’t even let myself look at him too much. I’m sure he compared me to a nun under his breath once.

Only to fall asleep, where the scent of oak and berries taunts me into unconsciously rolling closer and closer across the large mattress.

Hands touching, legs knocking together. Even my lips resting against his shoulder.

It is infuriating because Maxim never does the same. He is cool, composed. Always on his side. It is me encroaching, stealing space and making all the wrong decisions.

He remains unmoved. My desperation is painfully embarrassing as I flinch and roll away every time before he wakes up.

Somehow, despite juggling borderline insanity, I haven’t dropped out of the top five in either skill yet.

Briggs‘ is right behind me in the rankings, even if I am helping him and Irene through the scent–tracing. There are only twenty–eight candidates left in each skillset. The oaf who mocked Alletta on our first morning was cut from infantry yesterday.

I even saw Juno weeping alone, cut from the Healers. Back to farming for her, never to leave again unless she chooses a life of exile. I know Malva remains in the running, her scratchy, nasal voice carries an unholy distance.

That she remains here scares me. Malva’s green eyes have always had a wicked tilt to them, especially when she gossips.

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“Fuck her,” Alletta nudges me, noticing me flinch at her voice cackling. With her unshakeable confidence, Alletta is top in bladework, refusing to abandon her brightly coloured silken hair scarves. Every day she dazzles us with shades of lemon, lime, terracotta illuminating her shining black

hair.

“Easy for you to say, superstar,” Irene adds quietly, pushing some peas across her plate.

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“When I drop to second place I’ll concede I’m normal like the rest of you… until then,” she just smiles with her glass raised, toasting herself, until even Irene grins.

“I don’t think anyone is taking that top spot off you,” I add. “I don’t think anyone is taking the top scent tracing–spot from Vigo either now.”

“He shoved another wolf halfway down a cliff today,” Briggs adds darkly. “That’s how he got the win. Won’t be long until he throws someone off completely.”

Maxim, Kai and Silas share a concerned look at the mention of cliffs. Vigo has a silvery wolf, huge and strong but on a mission to win at all costs. In person he is aloof and cold.

His hair is a mixture of black and silver, long, straight streaks that he keeps in a half–ponytail. He doesn’t eat with anyone. Just takes food back to his

room.

“He sounds terrible. But why do you think I am unstoppable Tessa? You haven’t even seen me throw yet?” Alletta asked, a smile playing about her oval face, the headscarf highlighting her high cheekbones.

“I’ve seen the looks you get from the others,” I reply, raising my eyebrows, nodding towards a wooden table several metres away. There is a reason our little group has not expanded. The other blade–wielders have closed ranks against Allette, accusing her of all kinds of treachery due to her travelling past.

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The archers think I’m a cheat being aided by Maxim.

“The looks, what do you mean?” Allette questioned. “Because of how I dress?”

“You dress beautifully,” Irene offers. She is so kind and sweet. It pains me that Irene hasn’t really talked to anyone else. Even just sitting near Silas has her freckled features illuminated with a rosy hue. He’s barely even talking tonight and she’s losing it.

“No, no it’s true Allette,” Briggs‘ just about manages to add in between mouthfuls.”You’re treated like scum so you must be seriously good.”

“Maybe I should be more of a team player, like Tessa,” Allette muses, toying with her knife.

Maxim joins in out of nowhere. “Working together is a nice idea…..but it just hurts more when the one you’ve been carrying leaves. Allette, you’re doing everything right.”

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Jealousy prickles its way down my spine, finding a comfortable spot in the pit of my stomach to burn away at me.

A conversation about Briggs somehow hitting himself with a blade starts. I already feel useless at night, that cant happen during this happy window. I’m fighting back. Tilting my head upwards into Maxim’s ear. “Well, I think you’re wrong.”

Maxim softy cups my face, only to whisper privately. “Where would Irene be without you in scent tracing? Top or bottom?”

I didn’t answer. I don’t trust the way his eyes take in every word I say. Those amber flashes of interest, the flickering of his gaze to my cheeks, my lips. The bravery my silly jealousy created has withered already,

“Well?”

I reply with a useless, “I don’t know.”

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“Liar.”

My eyes shut. His deep rasp, followed by the lingering kiss he places on my neck, leaves me almost dizzy. He’s trying to blur the barricades I’m forced to put up between us. His selfish approach to everything keeps his heart completely safe.

I know I’m not made the same way. “Did you get anywhere with your report? The promotion?”

That breaks the spell. Pulling away from me like I’d slapped him.

Our connection severed so easily. It’s chilling.

Guess that’s a no on the promotion then.

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I need these less pleasant tastes of Maxim. His quiet, selfish, secretive side. It’s my only defence against falling for him.

Brooding away, his amber eyes remain as sharp as the tiger he imitates. Watching who comes and goes out of the Hall like a true hunter.

Irene confesses to the table that she had a hard time in the Armoury. Yet again her intricate designs were rejected in favour of sharp, lethal precision.