Running from the Mate Bond Book 1: Ella
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Eleanor Moon
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854K
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42
1: Chapter 1: Birthday Girl
ELLA
It’s just a dream, Ella. Open your eyes.
My wolf’s voice drags me out of the dark, sharp and urgent. I jolt awake, my heart slamming against my ribs, sweat cooling on my skin.
We were running—again.
The nightmare tugs at me, urging me to close my eyes and glimpse whoever is chasing us, the words of my wolf still echoing in my mind.
Tonight, I turn eighteen—and dreams don’t chase you like that without a reason.
I force a slow breath, trying to steady myself.
“Good morning, birthday girl!” Cecile jumps onto my bed, pulling me into a suffocating hug that knocks the air out of my lungs.
“Ahhh, Cecile, I can’t breathe!” I yell, trying to push her off.
“Why are you so grumpy?” she laughs, tightening her bear grip on me. “It’s your birthday. You’re getting your wolf today. I had to be the first to congratulate you!”
I can’t help but smile. Cecile’s energy is wild, unstoppable, and impossible to resist. “Get off me, you maniac,” I protest, giving her a playful shove that sends her tumbling off the bed.
She hits the floor with a dramatic gasp. “Rude,” she scoffs, throwing me a mock glare before bouncing to her feet. Then she turns to the closet, flicking her long hair over her shoulder.
“Here, you can borrow my denim skirt you like so much.” She grins, tossing it at me.
I quickly catch it before it smacks me in the face. “Is this your birthday gift to me?” I tease.
She snorts. “I’m not giving you my favorite skirt, El. Besides, Mom has a surprise for you. Now hurry!”
I shake my head, watching her leave. Cecile, my cousin and best friend, is my complete opposite: tall, blonde, athletic, with piercing blue eyes and the kind of effortless confidence that turns heads everywhere she goes.
The skirt makes her curves stand out—curves I don’t have—but she never hesitates to share her stuff with me.
My parents were killed defending our pack in a rogue attack ten years ago. My brother and I had to move in with Uncle John and Aunt Trudy, who were expecting twins at the time.
Cecile, an only child before we came along, loves the chaos of a full house, but I know it hasn’t been easy for my aunt and uncle. Aunt Trudy is always cooking, cleaning, and chasing after the twins and Jake.
I rummage through our closet, pull out my favorite white top to go with the skirt, then turn to check my reflection in the mirror.
My gaze flickers to the picture tucked into the corner of the frame—my parents, smiling, my father’s arm wrapped around my mother’s shoulders. The familiar ache in my chest rises sharply.
Jake, my little brother, is growing into a tall, handsome version of our dad, with the same blond hair and piercing green eyes, framed by long, dark lashes.
As for me, I’m the odd one out. I share Jake’s green eyes, but my wavy brown hair stands out in a family of blondes. Although I like my long hair, it’s usually tied up in a high bun to survive my greasy fast-food shifts. I don’t mind. We need the money.
Uncle John doesn’t earn much as a carpenter, since he left the warrior ranks after my parents died. The rogue attacks kept getting worse, and Aunt Trudy begged him to resign from the packhouse. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him too.
The sweet, warm smell of pancakes drifts up the stairs, cutting through my thoughts. My stomach growls in response.
I follow the smell downstairs and snag the last one on the plate, glancing at Jake. For once, he doesn’t seem moody. He even smiles at me as the twins belt out a chaotic version of the birthday song.
I sit beside him and nudge him lightly. “I’m visiting Mom and Dad’s grave today. Want to come with me?”
His smile fades. “I can’t, Ella. I’m already late for my shift at the garage.”
I try to give him a reassuring smile. “Are they letting you fix some stuff yet, or still just cleaning?”
He looks away. “Still cleaning.” The way his shoulders tense tells me everything. Jake hates living among humans. “I have to go,” he mutters, pushing back his chair before I can say anything else.
I sigh, watching him go.
Jake hardly remembers our parents. He was only five when the attack happened, but I remember every detail. The rogues flooding the pack grounds. The chaos. My mother pushing me toward Aunt Trudy, barely having time to kiss us goodbye before she ran onto the battlefield.
Most of my nightmares are about rogues returning to finish off the rest of my family. Me screaming for my mother to save us, begging my parents to come back, only to wake up to the harsh truth that they’re never coming home.
Aunt Trudy pats my hand. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll be fine, sweetheart.” Her expression brightens almost instantly. “Come on, I want to show you your dress for the ceremony.”
I follow her into the living room, a sudden flutter of anticipation in my stomach. Tradition dictates that I wear a white dress for the ceremony. I didn’t bring it up, knowing we couldn’t afford anything new, but apparently Aunt Trudy hasn’t forgotten.
“Surprise!” Cecile shouts, popping out from behind the doorway, holding up a lace gown that steals my breath away.
I step closer, my eyes widening. “Is that…my mom’s wedding dress? But how…” My voice breaks.
“I’ve kept it for you,” Aunt Trudy says softly, a quiet pride gleaming in her eyes. She must have spent hours refitting it for me in secret.
My throat tightens while I trace the delicate bodice with trembling fingers. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper. “Thank you so much.”
Aunt Trudy pulls me into a warm hug. “Your mother would have wanted you to wear it.”
Cecile joins us immediately, her enthusiasm impossible to contain. “Go shower. I’m doing your makeup, and we’re taking pictures before the ceremony!”
I laugh through my tears, overwhelmed by the mix of sadness and excitement swirling inside me. Tonight, I will finally meet my wolf.
She’s always been a quiet presence in the back of my mind, a comforting voice through the lonely nights. I can’t wait to let her out and run beneath the full moon.
After more presents are opened and the laughter fades, I slip into my mother’s dress and prepare to visit my parents’ grave.
The fabric settles around me like an embrace I’ve been missing for years, as if she were here, guiding me into this new part of my life.
Cecile refuses to let me go alone and holds my hand while I cry silently before their headstone.
I whisper between tears how much I wish they were here to see me today, my chest heavy with longing for the life we never got to live.
The only consolation I have is knowing they went together. Neither of them would have survived the loss of their mate.
“Ella,” Cecile murmurs, her tone unusually serious. “Will you leave us when you find your mate?”
I meet her gaze, unsure how to answer. Finding my mate will change everything. It might happen tonight or years from now, but the bond is inevitable.
I dream of the love my parents shared, steady and unbreakable, but the thought of leaving my family terrifies me.
“I don’t know, Cecile. You know I want to go to art school. I’ve been saving every tip from the diner.” I try to sound confident, even though I have no idea how to afford it. “I guess we’ll see what happens.”
Cecile wraps her arms around me. “I hope our mates will be best friends. I can’t stand the idea of you moving to another pack.”
I force a small smile. “I hope so too.” Cecile means everything to me. Even with the money worries, I can’t imagine being anywhere else.
When we return home, Uncle John is already waiting in the hallway. His eyes light up with a mix of pride, nostalgia, and bittersweet joy, softening his face. “You look just like your mom, sweetheart.”
Tears sting my eyes, and without hesitation, I throw my arms around him. His embrace is warm, grounding me in a way only he can.
He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, his hands firm on my shoulders. “She’d be so proud of you. So would your dad.” His lips curve into a small, sad smile.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
Uncle John blinks away his tears and clears his throat. “Are you ready for this?” he asks, his gaze searching mine.
I hook my arm through his. “I think so. Maybe a little nervous,” I admit.
He guides me toward the garden. “That’s normal, honey. Your mother was nervous too, you know.”
“Really?” I smile, letting out a small laugh.
“Yes, sweetheart, but she became one of the best warriors I’ve ever known. Her wolf was extraordinary. I’m sure yours will be too.”
I nod, averting my gaze. I’m not sure I’ll ever be as strong as my parents. I blink away my tears before we step into the cool night air.
The garden is bathed in soft moonlight, and my family is gathered in a wide circle around the ceremonial fire. Their hushed voices fall silent when Uncle John and I approach, their attention shifting entirely to me.
He stops just before the circle, turning to face me one last time. “I’ll be here guiding you through it,” he says, his voice steady even as his grip on me tightens. “Now go show them what you’re made of.” With one last squeeze of my hand, he steps aside.
Aunt Trudy and Cecile beam at me as I take my place between them.
I’m glad I was born in July, looking forward to my first run on a hot summer night. Jake shoots me a crooked grin while the twins bounce with excitement. I’m the first of the children in our family to turn eighteen, and I know all of them are longing for their own wolf.
I feel the buzz of anticipation in the air. My chest swells with gratitude. This is the moment I’ve waited for my whole life.
I look up at the moon, raising my arms, and a strange energy flows through me. My body begins to vibrate, my eyes glowing with its light, my heart pounding as my wolf stirs in excitement beneath my skin.
I take a deep breath, ready to embrace the shift. Then I turn my back to my family, letting the dress slip from my shoulders.
My pulse quickens, energy humming through my veins, hot and electric. My body trembles, my vision blurring, before a sharp, searing pain tears through me. Bones crack and shift, the sound terrifying, the pain unbearable.
I cry out, falling to my knees.
“Keep breathing, Ella. It won’t take long,” Uncle John calls from behind me.
I can’t answer. A scorching pain burns through my veins, and I struggle to breathe, my throat tightening. When I finally manage to open my mouth, only a growl escapes.
