The air was layered with his scent, the sugary scent of jelly.

The woods rustled as a beast stepped out of the shadows. Beast being the ultimately word to described him.

The wolf was a beautiful dark brown with eyes that were black as the night. Even from this distance, I could tell he towered over me which should be impossible. I was to this day, still the most powerful wolf in the world.

...except for my mate, apparently.

He was powerful but he was hardened as well. Three jagged scars ran down he left side, white with age. They were deep too, so much that I thought they were ribs initially.

Manhattan was jittery but she held her ground. She knew her mate enough that he was something supernatural. He was a warrior by the look of those scars but also a diplomat by how he hadn't attacked me yet.

He walked closer till we were facing each other. None of us seemed to know what to do. He didn't smell like a rogue, the bad things in the world. They smelt bad to us non-rogues but to others they smelt like they did before: pure.

His features contorted in our wolf language. His voice was foreign and he spoke our language as if it wasn't his mother tongue.

I don't want to fight you.

Manhattan stepped forward. Neither do I but you are foreign to me. I do not even your name which is impossible.

It is better that you don't know my name. Know me as the world does, as the monster, the Rogue God.

You are my mate. Manhattan argued. I should know you. It is a shame we are on opposite sides.

Opposite sides of what? Rogue and Pure? Or ideals? That we don't want each other at the moment because we're at our peaks.

So now what? Her face contorted to show her emotions for once. She had cold determination. Whether to protect her mate or to protect her kingdom, I didn't know.

The Rogue God was the perfect imbalance. He was massive and long but moved with agility and speed that was impossible for his size. Yet he still had the strength expected for his size. The perfect imbalance in a wolf. He had no weakness but his mate.

For he showed restraint, hesitantly trotting. He was ready for a battle but he didn't want to engage in one. Neither did Manhattan. I had no say in this matter as I was a backseat, my wolf in control and I had no doubt that he was the same.

A snap from the woods launched us at each other. The sound igniting the Wil fire of our fight.

We collided in midair. In a blur of teeth and claws. His strength, even though I expected as much, I was still surprised at his strength. We fought like children, fiercely but hesitantly. As if this was all a tug of war, playful. Still we fought and soon it became real.

Perhaps it was our ideals. The fact I didn't want a mate this low down on the chain of command and he didn't want another Alpha controlling him.

Whatever it is, soon influenced the fight. We slashed and bit each other and tumbled through trees trying to pin each other down. Manhattan tried to make him submit but he was immune to it and the hierarchy ways.

Eventually, we ended up (after many trees destroyed) with me under him. Manhattan yelped before she used her hind legs to kick him off. She quickly got up and with him disoriented, charged him and head butted him. He flew through three trees before coming to a stand still under the collateral damage.

The trees flew in random directions immediately. He rose and let the worse sound I've ever heard from a wolf out. I've heard wolves yelp, whimper and a range of howls and growls. Even purring but I've never heard a wolf roar. And he was the first.

The roar was thickened with fear. It sounded like a mix of a lion, elephant, fox and some anime demon that I used to love watching as a kid, all at the same time.

Manhattan jumped back. The roar seamed to come with it's own wind, blowing me further back. Even though we were on a plateu, the roar echoed leaving me little doubt that everyone in the kingdom hadn't heard it.

In fact, it seemed like the source of the roar changed, coming from the kingdom.

The dark eyes of my bark-colored mate had changed to a unnatural dye of white, the whites of his gone black. The growl he emitted left Manhattan cowering.

He started forward but immediately stopped, his eyes flickering between blue and black before settling on black. He sighed.

We are mates and even though we are destined to fight, today is not that day. You are my mate. Mine. I'll give you that much to soothe your mind.

Goodbye, Luna.

He turned swiftly and fades into the shadows of the trees. A few minutes later, troops from border control appeared. The wondered about the bodies of the others, especially their comrades but a few orders later, they were back to their jobs.

A single thought, constantly running in my mind, definitely not fading away.

Goodbye Rogue.