Blooded Mate

Chapter 30 - Beta's Welcome

Ethan was panting, chasing after his mate. Jan's broad shoulder shrank as he walked further away from him. He was moving faster than him even though the Lycan was running.

"Jan, don't go."

Jan did not stop, and he did not look back.

"Jan!"

His mate's silhouette grew smaller and dimmer, blending with the darkness around him. Soon, he would be too far to hear him. A cold hand seized Ethan's heart, squeezing it.

The Lycan grew frantic. "I'm sorry. Jan!"

"Ethan," a familiar voice called from far away.

A hand fell on his shoulder, pulling him back, but he was still running after his mate. He squirmed, struggling to free himself.

"Ethan!"

He woke up with a start, eyes swinging wildly as he sat up in the bed. Zyga was in the room, looking down at him with worry lines crisscrossing his forehead. There was no one else around.

"What happened? Where's Jan?"

Zyga helped him up. "It was a dream, son. Your mate isn't here."

Ethan slumped forward, disappointment adding more weight to his shoulders.

Then he rubbed his chest with a grimace. He could still feel the frigid fist around his heart. A shiver ran through him, even though his white t-shirt was drenched.

He looked around the strange room. "Where are we?"

"Gray Oaks."

Ethan dimly remembered their journey through the night into the Canadian pack territory. They had arrived at a cozy, gray cottage with white trims just as dawn was breaking. That had been yesterday.

After dropping into the full-sized bed in one of the rooms, he had not stepped out again, apart from using the bathroom.

Zyga put a hand under his elbow and heaved up. "You've spent too long in bed. It's time we begin your training."

Ethan did not feel like working out, but Zyga was not letting up. The older wolf pulled him up by the arm with a strength that defied his age and tossed a pair of pants and a hoodie to him. It was still dark outside, but that did not stop the tracker from pushing him out the door and onto a narrow trail behind the cottage.

Ethan reluctantly began jogging away from the warm comforts of their new home.

"Ow, ow, ow," He cried as Zyga thumped him on the head and back to speed up. He raised an arm to protect himself and picked up his pace.

Unlike the pine forest back home, the trees here were more varied, which led to a thicker undergrowth with no clear paths. He tripped on a root, scraping his knee. But Zyga had no mercy. The tracker jabbed him in the back, and Ethan was back on his feet, running to avoid those bruising fingers.

After his third fall, he spent as much energy picking his steps as avoiding his pursuer's jabs.

Zyga was relentless. For every mile they ran, Ethan sustained at least three hits from the man. The brushes also added their complaints at being disturbed by tugging on his clothes and scratching his limbs.

Ethan lost his sense of direction, dedicating most of his mental faculties to staying upright and following Zyga's instructions. Luckily he did not come across any dangerous wildlife. They must have been scared off by all the noise his stumbling feet made.

By the time they got back to the cottage, the sun was peeking through the trees, and Ethan was steaming in the frigid air. He bent over, panting and shaking, while Zyga strolled behind with only a wet shirt to show for his exertion.