CRACK.A hole was left in the wall…and in my chest.
My knees wobbled with a longing ache as I watched my mate barrel away without sparing me another glance.
I couldn’t hear what Lachlan was telling me as he waved his hand in front of my face, lips moving.
My brain was repeating the same thing over and over again, like a broken record:
The Terminator is my mate.
The Terminator is my mate.
The Terminator is my mate.
CHAPTER 18
YVAINE
Ihad an odd thought about destiny. Odd, because I never wasted an ounce of mental energy on the concept. Science was my religion, and Stephen was my god. The only mystical force pulling the strings of puppetry in my own life was me. Being a werewolf, a creature humans filed under myths and legends, some part of me believed in magic. Not in a desperate, wide-eyed way. It was more like I tolerated the idea of a little sparkle in the background.
I never gave weight to certain encounters, random coincidences that tiptoed around me in silence. Maybe giggling behind my back, with a little magic dust spread all over.
But after this year—with all its tears, the heartbreak, and too many butterflies to last a lifetime or two,after him—I acknowledged, maybe even respected fate a little more.
That thread tugging my soul, pulling me closer to my mate, studded with encounters and chance—that was all destiny.
The difference between then and now?
Back then, I didn’t know it yet.
Running across the endless sea of rooftops, through a forest of chimneys, worked as my modern version of therapy when Icouldn’t go for my typical run in the woods. I leaped over vents, dodged rusted pipes, and vaulted onto ledges. Thinking. Always thinking.
About recent events. And, better yet,discoveries.
Was a were-being supposed to feel this many contrasting emotions at once? Happy, anxious, restless, nauseated?
I didn’t even know if I had any stomach left. The butterflies had probably devoured it whole, as nervous as I had been since the afternoon. Sincehim.
Logan, known by most as the Terminator—or even the future Alpha of Dark Diamond—was my mate. Fate apparently had a sick sense of humor. The one wolf my pack despised most was the one destined to love me hardest. The irony.
And Logan wasn’t just any wolf. He wastheplayer, on and off the field. The guy who never lost, who never backed down. And occasionally, the one who punched holes in walls.
For a microsecond, I wondered why people called him Thor. Sure, he was blond, gigantic. Sure, the hole in the wall might be comparable to what Thor’s hammer could do. But Thor was the hero, with a strong moral code. He fought for justice.
My mate looked more like an angel cast out of heaven for excessive violence and his heart-breaking skills. It was probably a nickname invented by his pack, like Highlander for my brother.
Speaking of twins, that was another werewolf with a temper!
Lachlan had gone full commander mode after dragging me away from the Dark Diamond gang earlier. Then he’d gathered his team for a pre-game discussion about the Dark Diamonds, the match approaching like a death sentence.
Meanwhile, my heart and brain were on two separate frontiers.
Heart:Find your mate. Bite the muscular tendons in his neck.
Brain:Make a pros-and-cons list.
Me:Rooftop run. Middle ground. Endorphins first.
Eventually, I plopped down on the ledge of the vet faculty building, legs swinging, wind sighing through my hair. The small patio stretched out below, students milling around. Laughter bounced off gray stone walls, sneakers slapped against cobblestone, and someone strummed a guitar near the bike racks. The heartbeat of the college bubble.
