Chapter Thirty-Five

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The first step back on American soil was like a bullet burrowing itself deep inside her sternum, the familiar aura of her homeland rushed to greet her in whiffs of despair and deceit. Although it was colder than monkey balls in Russia, it was hotter than Satan's ass in the U.S.

"My money, miss." The Russian said bluntly, causing her to stiffen. His attitude was unnecessary and uncalled for, her scarred lip pulled up in a silent snarl.

Turning towards the human male she shot him a withering glare.

"If you were wise, you would go home without a word and empty handed." She rumbled through clenched teeth. Her lips sucked tightly to her teeth, she clenched her hands into fists, narrowing her eyes.

With fire in her eyes, she watched the male scurry away, back to his plane and take off. And observed as that flying machine got further and further away until it was out of sight, and watched long after that.

Now that she was back in her homelands, there would be eyes everywhere looking for her, it was not unknown that she the heir to him, her predecessor. But unbeknownst to the majority of the wolf population, she was already Queen and had been for a long time. And now, she was coming to ascend onto her throne once more.


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Somehow the female found herself in the thicks of southern pride. The heart of the country. Tennessee.

The strong fumes of alcohol and cigarette smoke swirled in her sensory system like whirlpool. Her back ached from sitting in her arched position for so long, but Olympe ignored it. With her body bent towards the bar, she tapped a long fingernail of her pointer finger on the polished wood.

Slow drawls of a female's liquid honey voice spun around the liquor joint, causing some to dance to the soft song. Olympe simply sat at the bar, left foot tapping lightly against the stool, her hand fiddling with her empty glass. The clacks of a cue hitting billiards was loud enough to irk the female wolf, forcing herself to focus on the bartender.

The female wolf felt lonely. So lonely, unlike ever before. She had always had that anticipation of going back to a loving mate, a person who would love her for faults. A mate with no rough past, but a worthy mate. She would never have to worry about him cheating, since it was physically impossible once one of the duo was marked, no wolf would let their human commit such an atrocity, it was disrespectful and a crime against Fate. Her train of thoughts struck a chord of grief once more.

The female wolf could not help but feel like it was her fault. If she would have been there she would have been able to protect the male, as it was her duty to do so, and likewise with him. Fate's games were becoming tiring to the female, hence her growing unhappy with life's curveballs and roadblocks. The mate bond was beautiful thing, to some. To others, it was Fate's fatal card to be dealt, some, like herself, had always wished for a solitary, stable life, the only care in the world being to protect themselves. To find a mate was life altering, for it was not always bubblegum drops and lollipops. Every one had their own lives, and for another wolf to encroach on their territory and claim what was theirs already was never taking kindly upon.

Her hand clenched tightly around the shot glass as her temper worsened. The distinct ring of the bell above the creaking door had her ears twitching slightly from the shrill sound. But what made her pause was the smell. It was the one Wolf she had been waiting on for the past hour.

Butterscotch and the pungent odor of cannabis rolled through the bar. The male had a scent that always turned head, a sickly sweet smell. A low growl rumbled through his chest, barely audible.

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