Betrayed by My Fated Mate

The morning light filtered through the blinds of my room at Azure Tide, casting thin stripes across the bed. I stared at them, counting silently to keep my mind from drifting to the darkness beneath the waves.

"Eleanor?" A gentle knock accompanied Alan's voice. "It's time for your first treatment."

I pulled the covers tighter around me. "Can we wait another day?"

"We can't," he replied, his tone firm but kind. "The silver is still circulating in your bloodstream. Every day we delay makes extraction more difficult."

When he entered, he carried a tray of medical supplies. His golden eyes assessed me clinically, but I caught that same flicker of something deeper I'd seen when we first met.

"This is going to hurt," he warned, setting down the tray. "Silver extraction is painful, even with my Lycan healing energy to buffer it."

"What do you need me to do?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Just lie back. I'll need to place my hands on the areas where the silver entered your body."

I nodded, but when I tried to move, my muscles seized. Luna whimpered somewhere deep inside me, urging me to flee.

Alan noticed immediately. "Eleanor, you're trembling."

"I'm fine," I insisted, forcing myself to lie flat. But when his fingers brushed my scarred arms, electricity seemed to jump between us.

I flinched violently, my mind flashing back to the silver net burning into my skin.

"Stop," I gasped, curling into myself. "Please stop."

Alan immediately withdrew his hands, stepping back. "I'm sorry. I should have warned you how this would feel."

"It's not your fault," I whispered, hating the tears that sprang to my eyes. "I'm just... broken."

"You're not broken," he said firmly. "You're traumatized. There's a difference."

He reached for my hand, stopping just before contact. "May I?"

The simple question—asking permission rather than taking—made something crack inside me. Tristan had never asked. He'd just commanded.

"Yes," I breathed.

When his warm palms finally covered my arms, the shock was less intense. I gritted my teeth as he began drawing out the silver, his healing energy flowing into me like warm honey.

---

The nightmares came every night. Water filling my lungs. Sofia's teeth around my head. Tristan's cold eyes watching me drown.

I woke screaming, my throat raw and hands clawing at my own neck.

"Eleanor!"

Alan burst through my door, his hair wild from running. He wore only sweatpants and a hastily thrown-on shirt, clearly having been asleep himself.

"What's happening?" I gasped between sobs.

"You were screaming," he said simply, kneeling beside the bed but not touching me. "The whole pack heard you."

He didn't reach for me or try to hold me down. Instead, he sat cross-legged on the floor.

"I'm going to describe what I see in my garden," he said quietly. "Focus on my voice."

"Why?"

"Because you're drowning in memories right now. I'm throwing you a rope."

He began describing plants in meticulous detail—their colors, textures, scents. The way moonlight would hit them at different times of night.

"See the lavender by the stone path?" he continued. "It's just starting to bloom. When you breathe in, you can smell it from your window."

Slowly, my racing heart calmed. The phantom water receded.

"There," Alan said softly. "You're back on land."

Before leaving, he placed a small lamp on my nightstand—a sphere that glowed with gentle blue light.

"It mimics moonlight," he explained. "Not as harsh as regular light."

---

"Hydrotherapy will help your muscles recover," Alan explained a week later, leading me to an indoor pool. "The water will support your weight while we work on mobility."

The chlorine smell hit me first—sharp and chemical. Then the sight of all that water...

My knees buckled. I collapsed to the pool's edge, gasping for air that wouldn't come.

"Water," I choked out. "Too much water."

Alan didn't rush to me. Instead, he slowly stepped into the pool fully clothed, stopping at the shallow end.

"I won't touch you unless you ask," he promised, holding his hands up. "And we can stop anytime."

I nodded shakily, forcing myself to sit on the edge with my feet dangling above the water.

"Just a toe," Alan encouraged. "That's all for today."

For an hour, we sat like that—me with just my toes in the water, Alan standing patiently nearby. We talked about everything except water and wolves—books he'd read, movies he thought were overrated, his childhood growing up in a pack of healers.

---

The news came during dinner: Tristan and Sofia had escaped Council custody during transport.

"They're hunting for them now," Cameron Blake, Alan's Gamma, reported grimly.

I dropped my fork. "They'll come here."

"They wouldn't dare," Alan's voice hardened.

But that night, as rain lashed against my windows, I knew I had to leave. I couldn't put Alan's pack in danger. Couldn't risk bringing Tristan's vengeance to their doorstep.

I packed hastily—a few clothes, my medication, the small knife Jared had given me. The storm provided cover as I slipped from my cottage toward the territory gates.

The guard post was empty—everyone inside seeking shelter from the downpour. Perfect timing.

I'd just reached the gate when headlights cut through the rain.

"Eleanor!" Alan's voice carried over the storm. "Stop!"