TRISTAN'S POV
Tristan hurried into his room and bolted the door shut.
Wild fire rushed through his veins. His heart thrummed at a rythm so uncommon it hurt. His vision blurred as the wolf fought to take over. To claim.
Maybe a cold shower? Yes, that should help.
He stripped out of his clothes and practically fled into the bathroom. Icecold water washed over him the moment he stood in the vast glass cubicle. The chill of the water stung but his nerves calmed.
It had taken all his willpower not to kiss her. That woman. The mate he would have to share with his brother. Rare even for twin Alphas.
She'd taken him by surprise. Audrey Holland, the bride of a prominent member of their pack. A hollowborn, born without a wolf spirit.
He'd seem pictures of her before the wedding. She'd stood tall with Nickolas on the covers of the local magazine announcing their impending nuptials.
Tristan had noted how beautiful she was. All golden haired and serene. Innocent but heartwarming like snowflakes. Not the kind of women he hooked up with. Not the type he attracted in clubs and bars before a rowdy night in a hotel room and morning goodbyes.
She was the keeping kind. The type you brought over to your mother's place so they could bond over baking cookies.
Nothing prepared him for the burning flames spurring through his veins as she flounced down the aisle. Her steps uncertain but happy as she gazed at the altar where her soon-to-be husband waited.
Nothing could ever rival the torrent of desire erupting from his very core as she turned around to smile at the audience. That smile could melt even the icecaps of the north.
His eyes sharpened so fiercly that he could see the light fluttering of her jewelled hair. Hear the pulse of her excited heart. The heat grew almost unbearable for his crackling body.
"Now, if you object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace."
Tristan had not planned to be theatrical. But only at that moment did rational thoughts return to his mind.
The wolf in him, that rabid creature that could hardly be tamed, could sit still no longer.
"I object."
The hushed silence his declaration wrought had potency of the chilling kind.
What happened next took him by surprise as well. He watched in his peripheral vision as Deckard, his broody twin, stood up to speak similar words.
It could only mean one thing.
Deckard too had felt the same stirring in his veins. His wolf had accepted whatever spirit Audrey possessed. He'd found his mate.
Tristan's mate.
Deckard and Tristan. Born from a shared womb. Destined with a shared crown. Fated to the same mate.
Tristan gritted his teeth in frustration as he got out of the shower.
Water dripped from his damp hair, rolling down the fine hairs of his defined chest to the narrow trail between his abs. Only a white towel hung low on the v of his waist.
He padded across the polished floor to the jacket flung over the couch close to his bed.
Her scent lingered on it. Jasmine and roses. Sweet like honey to his senses. Hugging her had been torture. His willpower frayed thin from resisting the urge to kiss her.
Could he blame it all on the mate bond or was there something about her that fed his desires?
How would he know? He'd never felt this way before.
Women, hollowborn and werewolf alike, never failed to latch unto him wherever he went. There was something about him that drew them in. And he never resisted them. Like trying on new shoes or clothes, just for the fun of it for a short while, normally overnight. Nothing more.
Audrey though….he wanted…he should…Damn. Mate or not, she was irresistible. His mate. Their mate.
But she obviously wanted nothing to do with them. Her heart belonged to that…well, Nickolas was too smart to be called a buffoon but Tristan thought it appropriate.
And Deckard was going around scaring her like the devil he was. Why couldn't he be less sociopathic?
They'd not had the chance to properly evaluate the events of the day or the drastic changes it meant for them. They needed to talk about it as soon as possible.
From his closet, he pulled out a sweatshirt and loose gym shorts. He didn't bother with his still dripping hair.
The passageway was empty. The kitchen and living room as well. He climbed up the stairs to her door.
He opened it a crack. There she was, unassuming and real. Tucked close the the headboard and pillows in a fetal position. She looked so small curled up on the bed like that. Fragile.
He heard the growl of her stomach and sighed. She was also stubborn. He'd left a suggestive spread of dinner on the kitchen countertop for when she woke up.
Shutting the door, he returned to the living room. He fell into the couch and closed his eyes. He drifted off immediately but not deeply.
Deckard's return was enough to wake him.
Tristan eyed the veil of sweat over his twin's forehead and the sheen of his skin.
"Went for a run?"
"Needed to work off some steam."
"A cold shower helped on my part." He yawned and stretched his sore neck. "Been a day of unwelcomed surprises. Certainly never banked on sharing a woman with you. Much more a mate."
Deckard gave nothing away. He was terribly good at hiding his thoughts and emotions.
"Where's she?"
"Upstairs. Asleep. Hungry. Scared. Regretting her fate."
Deckard started up the stairs. Tristan sighed wearily before following him. The poor thing was scared of his twin. Tristan would have to play the go-between for the foreseeable future.
"Shush! You'll wake her!" He chided as Deckard threw the door open.
Except, there was no one to wake. The empty bed gaped beck at them. The open window let in the cold wind of night. But of Audrey there left no trace.
Deckard growled.
"He was here."
Tristan knew who he meant. Mixed with the sweet scent he attributed to his mate's was another. Not unfamiliar. They'd had a couple of jovial encounters before the wedding, after all.
Nickolas Lannister had broken into their house and made away with their mate. Ok, maybe she had followed him willingly, but the effect still remained same.
That fool was being more foolish than Tristan had anticipated. People had died for even less offences against the Alphas of Frostone pack.
"They shouldn't have gone far. The night patrol would capture them along the boundaries."
Ten minutes they waited. Tristan pacing, Deckard as quiet as a caged bull.
Then the car had screeched into their front yard. Damon had captured the runaways.
Attention fixed on his mate, the little thing trying to appear as small as possible, he'd not seen Nickolas approaching fast until he stood close enough to punch.
Tristan would've done more than punch his jaw to splinters. The claws of his fingers broke out, ready to tear through skin and bone, to spill blood, just before Nickolas did the unthinkable.
He stabbed his own palm. Blood sprinkled the earth, binding whatever he said with both soul and nature. An unbreakable oath.
"I challenge your stead as Alphas of Frostone pack."
The foolish fool asked for his death on a platter of gold.