Saved by the King

Four

//Logan//

I paced my room restlessly, listening to the soft sounds of my mate's breathing from across the hall.

How could this happen? How could this be possible? I'm Logan Hale. I lead the Gwinn Forest pack, the strongest pack in the northern hemisphere and arguably the world. My warriors are first-class, highly trained, and absolutely lethal in the heat of combat. The exclusive inner circle consisting of my Betas and Thirds is made up of the most intelligent and loyal wolves that are out there. My strategists are top-notch and absolutely unrelenting when they set their sights on something. There are even quite a few rumors surrounding my personal ruthlessness that I never bothered to confirm nor deny.

A mate was never in the cards for me, or so I thought. Whatever brief thoughts I'd ever had surrounding the idea of a mate were not ones of need or even desire; I'd always seen mates as a liability. They'd slow you down, make you weaker, provide an enemy with a sure-fire way to cripple me in one fell swoop.

That's what I thought before, and that's what I thought now. Well, no -- that's what I wanted to think now. If I were being brutally honest with myself, which I often try to be, the reality was that those reasons seemed weak to me now. Watery. Insubstantial.

I had, as of then, had very little contact with her, but it was enough to completely rewire my entire thought process. I certainly didn't feel slowed down. If anything, I was revved up on the high of finding my mate. And did it make me weaker? Of course not. I felt strong. I felt energized and alert.

The only hang-up I had was the last one. She did provide an enemy with an easy target. She was a female, and even though she carried werewolf genes (or else she wouldn't be able to be a mate to a werewolf), females can't shift into wolf form. For all intents and purposes she was a human: as strong, as fast. And, unfortunately, it's a common practice between enemies to target the less-capable mates as a way of crippling the other. It's an easy and effective way to completely bend someone to the other's will because, as they claim, the loss of a mate is as debilitating as having your heart ripped out. I'd always considered the practice barbaric; it's one thing to want to bring an enemy down, but it's sadistic to prey on someone less capable simply because of their association with the main target. I'd never employed that strategy myself. When I win, I want to win clean.

The unexpected and unbelievably strong wave of anger that washed over me at the thought of someone harming Carter almost knocked me off my feet. I sat down heavily on my bed as my balance dipped; I had been unprepared for such a strong wave of emotion. I barely knew this girl -- it was a struggle to get her name out of her, for God's sake -- but every fibre of my being was quite ready to kill anyone who posed a threat to her.

Why? Why? Why did I care so much about her? Why did I feel a protectiveness towards her that I'd never felt for anyone before? Why did I suddenly care about whether this seemingly random girl was eating enough, or was warm enough, or felt safe enough to sleep?

Fear. Fear played a large role in my life. Fear was essential; fear was one of my most valuable weapons. Fear is what kept enemy packs from attacking us. Fear is what kept enemies not affiliated with a pack to launch an independent attack against Gwinn Forest. Fear is what kept my wolves in line, fear is what kept my wolves safe, fear is what caused everyone to take whatever I say and do seriously. Fear was the driving force behind many of my most important actions as the leader of a pack.

So why did this girl's fear send spears of pain shooting through my chest? Why did my stomach feel heavy when she flinched at my voice? Why did I feel as if I had been burned when I move towards her and she shrinks away? To an outsider, I should feel satisfied with her reaction towards me. If everyone feared me the way she did, Gwinn Forest would never have any problems. The rumors that I allowed to circulate about me inspired fear in others that is exactly identical to hers, so why did I feel sick when she looked at me like I was going to hurt her?