Tamed by the Lycan Prince

23- FATED MATE

CHAPTER FOUR

-ANTONIO-

As he emerged from the shadows of the forest, Antonio's gaze was immediately drawn to the sight before him. In the center of a natural amphitheater, illuminated by the silvery moonlight and drenched in heavy rain, two werewolves stood in the field. The rain coated their bodies, reflecting the moon's glow. His eyes narrowed at the sight – a male and a female, both regal and powerful in their own right.

The aroma grew more potent, making it clear that the alluring scent was emanating from the female werewolf. She laid on the ground, so radiant and majestic under the pour of rain, her eyes glowing a hypnotic crimson, and her snow white hair glistening like a veil of starlight. Antonio found himself captivated by her raw beauty, rendered speechless by the tantalizing spectacle before him. His heart hammered in his chest, an unfamiliar rhythm that echoed the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Antonio's gaze remained fixated on the sight in front of him, and as he continued to observe, the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together. It was evident that a brutal fight had taken place between these two werewolves, resulting in the male emerging as the victor. However, Antonio couldn't shake off the feeling that something was not quite right with the female werewolf. The scent of Wolf's Bane lingered in the air, mingling with her alluring scent, indicating that something was amiss.

Antonio squinted into the rain, curiosity propelling him closer. He made sure to move stealthily, his footfalls quiet against the soft, soaked earth. The male werewolf, his muscled body slicked with rain and sweat, was oblivious to Antonio's approach. His primal focus was entirely on the female, who was now groaning and writhing in pain on the ground. Her beautifully feral features were distorted with agony, and she howled, the deafening sound resounding throughout the forest before being muffled by the rain. The male werewolf hovered over her, his snarling muzzle smeared with her blood, his dark eyes glowing with dominance and satisfaction. The scent of her pain was sharp in the air, a poignant reminder of the brutal world they inhabited.

Seeing the female werewolf in such a condition tore at Antonio's heart. His gut churned with an acute sense of urgency and anger. The male werewolf was a sadistic brute, delighting in his victory.

Suddenly, a guttural growl ripped through the torrential downpour. Antonio's eyes snapped towards the sound's origin, his heart pounding like a tribal drum in his chest. From the shadowy edge of the forest, another werewolf emerged. His black mane shimmered in the moonlight, his muscular body rigid with predatory intent. Rain streaked down his coal-black fur, trailing rivulets that glowered ethereal under the luminous moonlight. His eyes blazed, a fiery crimson that bore into the scene before him with a fierce intensity. His gaze was locked onto the female, her whimpers of pain tearing through his composure. This newcomer was different, Antonio noted, his eyes creasing with bewilderment and concern.

The black werewolf sprinted towards the female, smoothly shifting back into his human form as he reached her side. His expression was filled with worry. The two conversed, but Antonio couldn't make out their words over the sound of heavy rain drowning everything else out around him.

The man gently stroked the female's hair. He whispered something in her ear, his voice filled with a gentle urgency that stirred Antonio's soul. There was something profound about the interaction, something that tugged at the primal chords of kinship and affection within him. This man cared for the fallen female werewolf, deeply so.

Then, with a sudden burst of strength, the man picked up the female werewolf into his arms. His muscles strained under her weight, but he didn't falter. His jaw clenched in determination as he rose to his full height, cradled the wounded female securely against his chest. Her limp body was a stark contrast to his rigid strength, her pained whimpers drowned by his determined growls as he slowly turned towards the forest.

Gently, the man began to run. Water splashed under his bare feet as he tore across the rain-soaked field, his dark hair wild in the wind. Antonio watched in awe as the man moved with a grace that seemed impossible given the burden he carried. He was a dancer in the storm, an artist painting a story of love and pain with his every step. He leapt over fallen trees and navigated rugged terrains with astounding agility.

Antonio could do nothing but watch, his eyes locked on the pair until they vanished into the depths of the forest, swallowed by the darkness. He felt a profound sense of sorrow as he stood in the rain-soaked field, the echoes of the female's agony still ringing through his ears. He reached up to touch his throbbing chest, feeling the raw energy that coursed through him - a result of the intense witnessing, an experience that had sparked something deep within him. It was a feeling that surged with life and mystery, calling to the wild essence in his very soul.

In the silence that lingered after their departure, Antonio found himself rooted to the spot. His mind was alive with pulsating thoughts and questions, each one a puzzle piece that refused to fall into place. He flicked his gaze back to where the female werewolf once laid. The grass was soaked in rain and blood, matted down by the struggle that had taken place. The bitter scent of violence and fear still lingered, too fresh to be washed away by the rain. He could almost see her there again, writhing in pain, her anguished cries filling the air as the brutal male asserted his dominance over her.

Antonio felt a strange hollowness in him, as though some vital part of him had deserted when the female was carried off into the desolate darkness. He sensed a deep bond with her, one that transcended mortal comprehension and understanding. Antonio took a deep breath and shook his head, hoping to clear his thoughts. He turned back to the forest, and despite the intense magnetic pull drawing him in the direction of the woman, he ran back to the territory of the Lycan Empire.

The journey was silent, save for the thrumming rain and the rhythmic crunch of his feet against the sodden ground. Antonio ran on, his heart pounding in unison with the cadence of the rain. The pain in his chest was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. It wasn't physical but an ache that twisted and turned, knotted and unknotted; a pain that gnawed on his insides.