Fated to a Human

Chapter 21

Nathan leaned against the wall just outside the detention room, arms crossed, his body still as stone—but his mind was anything but calm. He had never waited for anyone like this before. Not for a hookup, not for Skylar, not even for Peter on his worst stoner days.

But this wasn’t anyone. This was Rory.

And after the week she’d had—and the fight she won—he just needed to see her. Make sure she was okay. Feel that she was okay.

The hall was quiet, dim in that weird after-school way, the last rays of sunlight sneaking in through the tall windows. Nathan tapped his foot, pretending not to care, but the wolf inside him was getting restless. She was taking too long.

Finally, the door creaked open.

A stampede of bored, irritated students poured out, mumbling and groaning like they’d just survived some sort of battlefield. Nathan’s eyes darted past them, ignoring every face—until hers appeared.

Rory strolled out last, calm and casual like she hadn’t just spent two hours sitting in silence for breaking someone’s nose.

Her gaze landed on him and stopped mid-step, surprise flickering across her face. “You’re here?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Nathan shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the heat rushing to his face. “What can I say? I had nothing better to do than wait in a deserted hallway like a stalker.”

She smirked. “That’s not creepy at all.”

“I’m only creepy for special people,” he said with a smirk of his own. Then he gestured down the hall. “Come on. You earned something sweet.”

Rory blinked. “Sweet?”

“Ice cream,” he said like it was obvious. “You just broke someone’s nose. That deserves ice cream.”

She paused, her eyes narrowing. “You’re not mad?”

Nathan frowned. “Why would I be mad?”

“Because your… whatever she is—” she waved her hand vaguely “—got laid out like a lawn chair.”

Nathan couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “Skylar’s not ‘mine.’ Not anymore. And even if she was… no one touches you like that and gets away with it.”

Rory’s eyes held his for a moment, the tension between them thickening for half a second too long before she finally looked away, brushing some hair behind her ear. “I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah,” Nathan said softly, “I know you can. That’s kind of the problem.”

Her brows pulled together slightly. “How’s that a problem?”

“Because now I have to keep up,” he said, nudging her shoulder lightly. “And I’m a little scared you’re tougher than me.”

Rory rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now. “You coming or what?” she said, already starting to walk toward the front exit.

Nathan followed beside her, his pace matching hers with an ease that felt way too natural.

As they pushed through the glass doors and stepped into the golden evening light, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

She wasn’t like the other girls. She never had been.

And something told him that if he wasn’t careful… he was going to fall so hard he wouldn’t be able to get back up.

The small ice cream shack at the edge of town was lit up in soft, golden light, surrounded by strings of warm fairy lights and the hum of lazy evening chatter. The air smelled like sugar and waffle cones, laughter carried on the breeze, and the sound of summer coming alive wrapped around them like a blanket.

Nathan ordered chocolate fudge swirl in a cone—classic, rich, with just a little crunch. Rory pointed at the board and smirked. “Peanut butter cup. Also in a cone. Obviously.”

He raised a brow. “You don’t strike me as a peanut butter kind of girl.”

She grinned, accepting the cone from the teenage worker behind the window. “What kind of girl do I strike you as?”

Nathan paused, watching her walk ahead to the outdoor seating area. “Complicated,” he muttered under his breath before following her.

They found a small round table just under one of the string lights, the metal cool beneath their hands. The two of them sat side by side, cones in hand, the light catching Rory’s hair and making it glow just a little like obsidian.

“So…” Rory licked her ice cream slowly. “Prom’s this Friday.”

Nathan groaned. “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

She chuckled. “Let me guess—you’re so over it.”

“It’s a bunch of fake smiles, tight tuxes, and awkward grinding in a gym that still smells like sweat. What’s not to love?” he said dryly, licking his cone.

“You forgot the overpriced photos and emotional meltdowns.”

Nathan laughed. “Right. That too.”

“Peter’s excited,” she added. “He’s already got his whole outfit planned. It involves feathers. Lots of feathers.”

Nathan snorted, nearly choking on his ice cream. “Of course it does.”

Rory giggled, the sound making something tighten in his chest. It was easy, talking to her like this. Too easy. He didn’t have to fake anything.

But then… a shift in the air.

Nathan froze.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His muscles tensed beneath the table. Danger.

His instincts flared, scanning the street, the cars, the passersby.

Nothing.

No scent. No movement. But he felt it like a buzz under his skin—like someone was watching them.

“Nate?”

His eyes snapped back to Rory.

She was watching him with a furrowed brow, concern in her eyes.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice soft but probing.

Nathan blinked, his throat dry. “Yeah. Sorry. Just thought I saw—” He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

Rory didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press. Instead, she smiled playfully and leaned forward.

“You’ve got a little something on your nose,” she teased.

He furrowed his brows and went to wipe it with the back of his hand—but before he could, Rory reached out and booped his nose with her index finger, which had a dollop of her peanut butter ice cream on it.

Nathan stared at her, dumbfounded, as she burst into a soft laugh.

“Seriously?” he said, his voice low with amusement.

“Revenge,” she said smugly. “For making me laugh in health class.”

With a smirk, Nathan dipped his finger into the swirl of fudge near the top of his cone and gently touched it to the tip of her nose.

Rory’s eyes widened. “Oh. It’s on now.”

They both laughed, the tension broken, the night warmer.

But across the street, half-shrouded in the shadow of a brick alleyway, a pair of eyes watched with sharp stillness.

Zara.

Unmoving. Cold. Quiet.

Her long black braid hung over one shoulder, the glint of silver rings piercing the top of her ear. Her bronze skin was flawless and smooth, expressionless as always. Her cheekbones were high, her jaw cut like obsidian. Everything about her presence bled discipline, danger, and restraint.

She blended into the dark like a ghost—watching. Calculating.

That’s her. The girl. The mate.

Zara’s eyes narrowed slightly, shifting between Rory and Nathan. Her fists clenched at her sides, though her face remained void of emotion.

The boy—Nathan Grey. He wasn’t like the others. The prophecy made it clear: the Alpha King wouldn’t be average. He’d be rare. Strong. Untamed.

And this girl? His mate? She was human. Weak. Fragile.

Zara didn’t understand the pull. She didn’t care to. Emotions were liabilities. Weaknesses.

But if she’s his mate… she’s his flaw.

And flaws could be exploited.

Without a sound, Zara turned and melted back into the darkness—her mission still clear.

Observe. Study. Destroy.