Mated by Twilight: a Fated Mates Shifter Romance, page 1
MATED BY TWILIGHT
A FATED MATES SHIFTER ROMANCE
MOONLIGHT MATES
BOOK 2
INES JOHNSON
THOSE JOHNSON GIRLS
Copyright © 2024, Ines Johnson. All rights reserved.
This novel is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and incidents described in this publication are used fictitiously, or are entirely fictional. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, except by an authorized retailer, or with written permission of the author.
Edited by Kasi Alexander
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
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1
Rylan Stone stood at the edge of the clearing, his eyes fixed on the setting sun. The fiery hues of orange and crimson bled into the horizon, casting long shadows over the dense forest that surrounded the Ironwood Wolf Pack’s territory. The air was thick with the scents of sizzling meats and sweet pastries, mingling with the earthy musk of shifters in mid-shift and the heady aroma of hope for romance, all swirling together under the glow of the moon.
A heavy weight pressed against Rylan's chest, a familiar ache that had grown heavier with each passing year. For thirty years, he had attended every full moon festival. He had watched as others—children, teens, even a few elders who had given up hope—found their mates under the silvery glow of the full moon. He had seen the way their eyes lit up with recognition, the way their bodies instinctively moved closer, drawn by the invisible pull of the mating bond.
For him, there had been nothing. No tug, no spark, no connection that signaled the presence of his fated mate.
Rylan had stopped going to the festivals as of last year after he formally took over the pack from his father. It was easier to bury himself in work, to focus on building the pack’s wealth and securing its future. The Ironwood Wolf Pack was expanding, their territory growing enough to absorb a smaller but still fierce pack to the north. With the acquisition of new land came new responsibilities, new challenges. There was just one catch.
A rustle in the underbrush caught his attention. Rylan’s heightened senses immediately honed in on the source of the sound. His hand instinctively moved to the hilt of the knife strapped to his thigh, the cool leather handle a familiar comfort against his palm.
Emerging from the darkness was a figure he recognized immediately—Micah Vance, the Alpha of the Sequoia pack. The elder shifter moved with a grace that belied his years, the silver-gray of his hair catching the dim light of the setting sun. Though time had etched lines into his face, there was no mistaking the strength that still resided in the old Alpha. Rylan knew he could take Micah in a fight if it ever came to that, but he was also certain he wouldn’t leave the battle unscathed.
"Alpha," greeted Micah.
"None of that. We're equals."
“Rylan, then.” Micah's voice was a low rumble that carried the weight of years and the authority of a leader.
“Micah,” Rylan replied, inclining his head respectfully. The tension between them was less about distrust and more about the gravity of the decision they had made—one that would shape the future of both their packs.
They stood in silence for a moment, the sounds of the festival in the distance—laughter, music, the crackle of fires—filling the space between them.
"I've never seen our lands from this vantage point," said Micah, his gaze sweeping northward over the Moonridge Mountains.
The dense, dark canopy of Ironwood trees stretched out beneath them, gradually giving way to the towering majesty of Sequoias, their colossal trunks rising like ancient sentinels against the horizon, their rust-colored bark glowing faintly in the soft light. The contrast between the shadowed Ironwoods and the sunlit Sequoias created a breathtaking tapestry of nature’s resilience and grandeur.
"We're going to make it even better. You'll have first pick of homes in the new development, of course."
Micah gave a nod of gratitude. “We’ll sign the land deed in the morning. After the festival’s over, and after you’ve had a chance to meet her.”
Rylan nodded, though the thought of meeting Micah’s daughter—a woman he was destined to marry yet felt no connection to—left a heavy feeling in his gut. “Where is she now?”
Micah’s gaze flickered toward the direction of the festival grounds. “She wanted to enjoy the festival.”
One last chance to see if she sensed her fated mate? Perhaps she wasn't so keen on this arranged marriage between them. He understood the desire to find that elusive bond, the one he had searched in vain for for so many years. Part of him almost hoped Celine Vance did find it tonight. It would complicate things, certainly, but it would also free them both from a fate neither truly wanted.
However, Rylan knew better. He had come to terms with his own reality, the knowledge that the bond he longed for would never be his. He had resigned himself to making the best of this match, to bringing as much happiness to Celine as he could, even if she wasn’t the one his wolf had chosen.
“Not everyone gets their fated mate,” Micah continued, as if reading the thoughts on Rylan’s face. “I didn’t feel the bond with my wife when we married, but we built something strong, something that lasted. Love isn’t always about fate, Rylan. Sometimes it’s about choice.”
Rylan’s eyes met Micah’s, seeing the truth in the elder Alpha’s words. There was wisdom there, hard-earned and tested by time. It didn’t lessen the weight of the decision that lay ahead.
“I know,” Rylan replied, his voice rougher than he intended. He forced himself to take a breath, the cool night air filling his lungs. “We’ll make this work.”
Micah placed a hand on Rylan’s shoulder. “You will.”
They stood for a moment. Micah looked to the north. Rylan's gaze was on his lands, at the border where the expansion would begin. It was a project that his father had started before his decline after his mother had passed. Joseph Stone hadn't lasted much longer after his wife had died. The two were fated mates. One of the things his father had left Rylan, aside from big shoes to fill, was this project. Rylan was now close to completing the expansion.
The moment passed. Micah turned to leave, his steps fading into the night. Rylan watched him go, the old Alpha’s words lingering in his mind, intertwining with his own doubts and fears.
He glanced toward the festival grounds, where the sounds of celebration were growing louder. The full moon was beginning to rise and cast its silver light over the world. Somewhere among the revelers was the woman he was destined to marry. He wondered what Celine was feeling, if she shared his sense of resignation or if she still held on to hope for something more.
As Rylan made his way toward the festival, the sights and sounds enveloped him—the flicker of firelight, the laughter of the pack, the mingling scents of food, sweat, and pine. But beneath it all was the steady beat of his heart, the thrum of something deeper that he couldn’t quite shake.
He would meet his future mate tonight, and tomorrow they would seal the deal that would unite their packs. He would do his duty, as he always had. And maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to be content with that.
2
Liza Mercer’s laughter bubbled up, unrestrained and light, as the flirtatious shifter twirled her around the dance floor. The music was lively, filling the air with a rhythm that seemed to pulse through her veins, urging her to move, to let go. For the first time in what felt like forever, Liza felt free—free from the shadows that had haunted her for the past year, free from the grip of fear and mistrust that had wound itself so tightly around her heart.
The warm glow of lanterns hung from the trees, casting a soft, golden light over the clearing where the Ironwood pack had gathered to celebrate. The air was cool, but her skin was flushed from the dance, her cheeks warm with the exhilaration of the moment.
Elijah’s hand was firm around hers as he guided her through the steps, his grin infectious. He wasn’t romantically interested in her, and she was grateful for that. There was an ease between them, a camaraderie that didn’t come with the weight of expectation or unspoken desires. His brother, however, was clearly interested in her sister.
The two of them stood awkwardly at the edge of the dance floor. Gideon and Maize were a picture of hesitant attraction, each too uptight to make the first move, but the connection between them was obvious. Liza had always been good at reading others, at seeing the sparks that flew between two people, even when they couldn’t see it themselves. It was ironic, really, how she could see it so clearly in others, but had been so blind when it came to herself.
She’d been so flattered when Rob had told her she was his fated mate. The idea of being someone’s one and only, of having a bond so deep and unbreakable—it had seemed like a dream come true. But it had all been a lie, a cruel deception that had shattered her belief in the very notion of romantic love.
Elijah spun her around again, pulling her from the dark corners of her
mind. She laughed, the sound chasing away the lingering shadows, and let herself be caught up in the moment once more. The music swelled, the beat thrumming through her body. Liza allowed herself to be twirled and dipped, her worries melting away with each step.
“You’re a natural,” Elijah said, his voice warm and teasing as he brought her back upright. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief, and she couldn’t help but grin back at him.
“Only because you’re doing all the work.” There was a lightness in her chest, a giddiness that she hadn’t felt in so long. It was almost unfamiliar.
“Well, someone’s got to make you look good.” Elijah spun her once more for good measure.
Liza’s laughter rang out again, and for a moment, she forgot about everything—about the lies, the betrayal, the fear that still lingered just beneath the surface. Here, in this moment, she was just a girl dancing under the stars, feeling the night breeze on her skin and the warmth of a friend’s hand in hers.
But as the music began to slow, the reality of her situation crept back in. The dance was a reprieve, a brief escape from the turmoil that still churned inside her. Elijah must have sensed the shift in her mood because his grip on her hand tightened, grounding her.
“Hey,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the noise of her thoughts. “You okay?”
She looked up at him and forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. She wasn’t ready to unpack the weight of her emotions, not here, not now.
Elijah didn’t push. He just gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
Liza nodded, grateful for his understanding. The song ended, and they stepped off the dance floor. The cool night air was a welcome relief against her flushed skin. "I'm thirsty. Can we grab a drink?"
They wove through the crowd, the sounds of laughter and music filling the air around them. The scent of the forest was ever-present, mingling with the sweet, fruity aroma of the drinks being served from the stand. The cool night air brushed against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth still lingering from the dance floor.
As they approached the drink stand, Elijah accidentally bumped into a woman reaching for her drink. The glass tipped, spilling its contents down the front of the woman's dress. Liza’s eyes widened as she braced for the inevitable flash of annoyance, but when Elijah opened his mouth to apologize, both he and the woman froze, their eyes locking in a shared moment of stunned recognition.
Liza felt it like a spark in the air. It was a tangible tension that made the hairs on her arms stand on end. She knew instantly what it was—the mating bond. She’d seen it enough times to recognize the unmistakable connection, the way two souls seemed to gravitate toward each other with a force that couldn’t be denied.
She watched as Elijah’s easygoing demeanor faltered. His devil-may-care expression morphed into a mixture of shock and awe. The woman, too, looked as if the world had shifted beneath her feet, her breath catching as she stared up at him.
Liza’s heart squeezed in her chest. She was genuinely happy for Elijah. He was a good man and deserved to find his fated mate. At the same time, a pang of self-pity tightened her throat. It was a bittersweet reminder of what she had once believed she had found, only to have it all ripped away.
Elijah seemed to come back to himself, blinking as if waking from a dream. He started to back up, a notch of fear lifting his eyebrows. This time, as he stepped back, he bumped into Liza. Luckily, she didn't yet have a drink in her hands.
Liza gave Elijah a push toward his future. At first, he didn't budge. Made sense since he was over two hundred pounds of werewolf in a man's body, and she was one hundred percent human.
“Go,” she urged softly, her voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling inside her.
He didn't hear her. Neither of them did. Liza doubted they remembered she was still there. She turned to the drink stand to order herself a cup. When she glanced over her shoulder she caught Elijah running after the female shifter.
Liza watched them go. She sighed softly and turned back to the drink stand, grabbing a glass for herself. The coolness of the glass pressing against her palm was a welcome distraction from the whirl of thoughts in her mind.
She took a sip. The fruity sweetness of the drink washed over her tongue, but it did little to chase away the sudden ache in her chest. She stared into the crowd, the faces blurring together as she tried to remind herself that she was happy for Elijah, that she was better off alone. But it was hard not to feel a little lost, a little adrift in a sea of couples finding each other while she stood on the shore, watching.
A prickle of unease crawled up her spine, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. It was a sensation she knew all too well—the feeling of being watched. Her grip tightened on the glass as she scanned the crowd, her heart beginning to pound in her chest. She half-expected to see Rob’s familiar, menacing figure lurking in the shadows. But there was nothing—just the usual ebb and flow of humans, shifters, witches, and fae moving through the festival grounds.
Liza exhaled, forcing herself to relax. But the sense of unease lingered. She turned back around, ready to take another sip. A startled yelp escaped her lips instead.
Standing right in front of her, so close she could see the fine lines etched around his intense, dark eyes, was a man who commanded the very space around him. He was tall, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over her, and his presence was magnetic, almost overwhelming. His hair was dark, nearly black, and his sharp jawline was covered in a light stubble that only added to his rugged allure.
Liza’s breath caught in her throat as she met his gaze, the air between them crackling with a tension she hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. It was like being hit by a bolt of lightning, a jolt that shot straight through her, leaving her heart racing and her mind spinning.
He didn’t speak at first, just stared down at her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. The air thickened around them as though the heat between them was building humidity. The sounds of the festival faded into the background as the world narrowed to just the two of them.
Was this it? Was this him? Was this her fated mate?
But no. She'd been through this before. And Rob had been a nightmare.
However, she hadn't felt this kind of pull with Rob. It had just been hope, and her fooling herself. Was she being a fool again?
"You're in danger," said Mr. Tall, Dark, and Maybe Her Fated Mate. "You need to come with me."
3
Rylan stood at the edge of the crowd, his keen eyes scanning the bustling festival grounds. The sounds of laughter and music filled the air, mingling with the smoky tang of roasting meat. His senses were sharp, honed by years of leadership and the instinctual vigilance that came with being an Alpha.
His gaze landed on Micah’s daughter standing at the drink stand. Her curvy figure was silhouetted against the warm glow of lanterns. She was pretty, with a pleasant smile and an easy grace that would make their union bearable, if not fulfilling. However, her smile didn't reach her eyes. She looked as resigned as he did.
Until she didn't.
Her eyes lit up at something. That spark changed her face from pretty to stunning. Part of him wondered what had made her light up like that. But even seeing her delight, Rylan still didn't feel a pull to her.
It wouldn’t be a hardship to mate her. It was a logical match, beneficial for both packs. And yet his heart remained unmoved, beating with the steady rhythm of duty rather than excitement.
He was about to look away, to continue surveying the gathering with the detached focus he’d perfected over the years, when something—or rather, someone—caught his attention. His heart skipped a beat, the air leaving his lungs in a sharp exhale as his eyes locked on to her.
She stood a few feet away from Micah’s daughter. She had a quiet intensity that drew him in like nothing else ever had. Her long, raven hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the light in a way that made the shadows in her strands dance. Her skin glowed with a soft radiance, and when she looked up, her eyes—dark and deep as the forest at night—pierced straight through him.
