My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

Graeme was gripped by the sudden staggering rage and anger burning his mate like wildfire, and she wasn't answering her phone. He tried reaching her twice that way before he was running out of his office on his way to find her, Sam following on his heels.

"Stay here and watch things," he turned to command his Beta before continuing on his way out.

He hadn't left his office to visit with anyone in the main area of the pack house ever since Andreas and Pearce unleashed the alyko tales from their private library, but now as he descended the stairs leading to the front entryway, concerned faces of pack members sped by in a blur. He didn't see them. He didn't care. But they sensed the distress of their Alpha, and they bristled with the urgency to follow and help as he passed.

When a group of males trailed him out the door and onto the lawn, he glared at them over his shoulder. "Do not follow me," he growled.

"Is it the Luna?" One male called after him. "Is it August?"

Graeme whirled around and stalked back in the direction of the voice. "You dare use my mate's name?" he questioned.

He didn't know what had suddenly caused the tumultuous emotions in August, but it had set his hackles on end—had someone from the pack threatened her? Attacked her? Called her a witch again? Were they coming after her in his parents' home?

How would he ever bring his mate and his pack together? It was the question that he had been struggling with and the reason why he had initiated this distance between himself and August—to protect her until he could figure it out.

But now, despite his effort to protect her from the brewing distrust and hatred in the pack after the map and false alyko stories became known, something had apparently happened to her anyway—enough to create flames of anger in her so intense that he could feel it scalding the back of his own eyes.

"She prefers her name, does she not?" the male replied uneasily, stumbling backward as Graeme advanced on him.

"How do you know this?" Graeme growled the question.

"Everyone knows it, sire. From her time with the pups and in the market. My sister speaks of her as August, forgive me," The young male ducked his head as Graeme and his raging Alpha aura came to loom over him.

This male was trembling. Was he truly concerned for his Luna? Were all of them?

"Who is your sister?" Graeme asked.

"H-her name is Ana, sire. She is a vendor in the market," he answered. "She makes gelato."

That's right, August had gelato that day that they were in the market together. Graeme's stance relaxed, his face softening a hair as he finally took a moment to evaluate the males who had followed him out. They all appeared truly concerned.

"I apologize for being quick to anger. Thank you for your genuine concern," he said gruffly, the wariness of the past two weeks exposing itself in lines on his forehead and around his eyes. "Please stay here. Everything will be fine," he put a hand on the young male's shoulder and forced himself to smile before he turned and continued on home.

The concerned males had taken the edge off of his anxiety, and as Graeme made his way through the woods he thought of how he had been failing them. His pack and his mate. By keeping them apart, he was failing to trust that they would find a way through all of this together.

When he got to the house, it was empty. She wasn't here. "Dammit. August where are you?"

Recalling what Penelope had told him and in light of the revelation that he had been failing in this regard to fully trust his mate like he said he would, Graeme collapsed onto the sofa. He rubbed his face with one calloused hand. What was he doing? Why did he believe he needed to do this alone? Or that he could do it alone, for that matter?

He exhaled heavily and searched for his mate internally like he had when he was in Wisconsin, stroking that bond between them—calling out to her from his innermost being. From his soul.

"Are you well, my love?" he asked gruffly into the silent house.

Within an instant he received an answer. The light of reassurance somehow bloomed large in his chest, putting him at ease. So she was okay. It was not as urgent as he had assumed it to be. He could have discerned this earlier before he tore out of the pack house, but in his mind she was already teetering on the precipice of danger just being here in his pack until he could make it safer—until he could disprove all the negative alyko bullshit of the elders'.

But he should be letting her help him in that regard by just… showing them herself. Obviously she has already touched many of them, as was evidenced by the males who had followed him out of the pack house. He would need to tuck his fear back behind his hope and trust.

Why was August letting him get away with this?

His eyebrows pinched together with the thought. She was so confident before. He was likely hurting her by how he had been keeping her at a distance. But why wasn't she fighting him on it? Did she believe she deserved it?

His heart sank. Would he ever get this right? He had to find her and apologize.

Graeme rose from the couch and followed her scent out back. The trail of her smelled slightly off. He had been noticing this lately, but with how distracted he was with everything else, he hadn't given it much thought. They were in a different house now sharing space with Greta and Sam. Sage was staying with Sylvia, but he was popping in regularly to visit. He had dismissed her scent difference as something to do with these changes.

His pace sped up as he followed her trail—the most familiar of scents somehow now turned sweeter. The scent of home now with something even more alluring. As he reveled in it, a flash of protective instinct—different than the usual, more intense—shuddered through him. He froze in response to it.

Wait, was she… was his mate with child?

His mouth dropped open, tears welling as the sudden awareness lit him from within. His beautiful, neglected mate was carrying his child?

"Goddess," he groaned, tearing off through the trees in pursuit of her now for a different reason.

*****

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