Her Chosen Mate

Part 19

(POV - Marcus)

He was shaken from his thoughts by a surge of frustration and throbbing pain, something that had become more and more common each year he spent his ruts alone.

Marcus stared at the punching bag that lay on the ground. The seams split open from the force of his punches. Sand spilled to the floor of the gym, a soft, silent hiss that filled the otherwise empty room.

The pack gym was by no means big. In fact, Marcus would hesitate to call it a 'gym' at all. It had been an empty room in the main packhouse that the previous Alpha, the one Marcus had gotten rid of for almost destroying his pack, had used as his personal den. Marcus had thrown every piece of furniture out and set it on fire, watching it burn with a quiet satisfaction in the pit of his stomach.

He'd asked Jaden to organize a cleaning crew to scrub the room, and the rest of the packhouse, clean of his scent, so that there was no trace of his existence at all. It had been a painful process, getting his pack to scent the common rooms again so that they felt more at ease, but the presence of Marcus' scent had made it much easier. And he'd finally felt like he had done something right.

Once the den had been stripped clean of the previous Alpha's existence, Marcus had turned it into a gym. He hauled in punching bags and free weights, going out of his way to find jump ropes and even a few weighted balls. Even though he was the one who most frequented the gym, he had scented a few other males and even some females who came to use the gym to take the edge off of their impending heats and ruts.

He was the only one in the gym, although he heard movement in the house itself. It was still early, probably four or five in the morning, and the next shift of sentries would be waking up to take over from the wolves who were on their way back.

He'd been awake for hours, the pain chasing him from sleep and from his bed. He'd wandered around the packhouse as silently as a wraith, looking for something that would occupy his mind and hands enough to distract him. The tension had led him to the gym, where he'd so far destroyed ten punching bags and didn't even feel marginally better.

With a sigh, he reached up and unhooked the split punching bag from the chain it swung on, trying to avoid the sand that had piled on the floor below it. He tossed it aside, next to the other bags he'd busted, and looked at the last one leaning in the corner of the room.

Did he really want to ruin another one just to feel like shit afterwards, anyway?

"You're stinking up the house, Marc."

Marcus turned to see Jaden standing at the door, his arms crossed. He looked like he'd been for his morning jog already, a light sheen of sweat clinging to his skin from the exertion.

"You sure it's not your own pits you're smelling?" Marcus bit back, feeling restless and agitated. Jaden lifted one of his arms and sniffed at his pit, face scrunching up in disgust.

"Yeah, probably," he chuckled, stepping into the room but making sure he kept a safe distance from Marcus. He knew that Jaden was probably following him around because the wolf knew his Alpha's rut would start soon and he wanted to be close by in case Marcus went feral.

Marcus was a little ashamed to admit that he was grateful his Beta was around, even if he would only admit it to himself. His ruts had never been easy, but after Helena died, they'd been almost impossible.

For five years, he'd fought against every instinct in his body, still mourning for his lost mate and unable to face a rut without having her to help him through it. It had been a lot more difficult than he thought was possible, and every spring, and every winter, he fought through his hormones no matter how much pain it caused his body.