Fated to a Human

Chapter 4

Nathan rubbed his temples and leaned against the cold metal of his locker, willing his thoughts to just shut up. But they wouldn’t. They hadn’t stopped since second period.

Rory.

The name echoed in his head like a damn mantra. He couldn’t focus in class, couldn’t think straight, couldn’t stop remembering how her scent had nearly sent his wolf into full-blown mate mode. Lavender and vanilla. It was still haunting him like a ghost that wouldn’t leave.

He’d made it through Mythology—barely. He hadn’t taken a single note and couldn’t remember a single word the teacher said after Rory sat down next to him. Luckily, she didn’t look at him again. But he could feel her there. Every movement, every breath. He had to time his own breaths around the open window like some weirdo just to survive the class.

Then came English.

He thought he’d catch a break—until she walked in again. And this time, when she passed him in the aisle, that scent hit him even harder. The only saving grace? Their assigned seats were on opposite ends of the room. Still, he could feel the wolf clawing again, just under the surface. He gripped his pen so hard it snapped halfway through the lesson.

Now it was gym.

The one class he normally didn’t have to think in. Just sweat it out and let muscle memory take over. But even that felt like a cruel joke.

He walked into the boys’ locker room, already dreading the idea of seeing her again—because of course, of course she’d end up in gym class too. As he passed a row of lockers, he spotted Peter sitting on the bench, changing into his sneakers.

“Dude,” Nathan muttered, making a beeline for him. “I need to talk to you.”

Peter raised an eyebrow but stood, brushing himself off. “Lead the way, wolf boy.”

They stepped aside just as the other guys filtered out toward the gym. When the coast was mostly clear, Nathan turned to him, voice low but intense.

“That new girl. Rory. You’ve seen her, right?”

Peter snorted. “Yeah, she’s in my psych class. Pretty cute… for a girl.” He grinned in his usual teasing way.

Nathan didn’t laugh.

His jaw clenched tight, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I think she’s my mate.”

Peter blinked. “Wait—mate mate? Like… the mate bond thing?”

Nathan nodded grimly.

Peter’s smirk dropped instantly. “But… she’s human. Right?”

“Yeah,” Nathan exhaled, rubbing his chest where it still felt tight. “That’s why I’m freaking out. It’s supposed to be impossible. A werewolf imprinting on a human? That doesn’t happen.”

Peter leaned back against the lockers, arms crossed. “Okay, remind me—how does this mate thing work again? I remember you telling me a little once when you were high, but I figured it was just some kinky wolf s*x ritual.”

Nathan gave him a half-hearted glare, then sighed. “It’s not just s*x. When a werewolf finds their true mate—the one—they imprint. It’s instant. Deep. Like something snaps into place inside. You know. Their scent, their voice… everything draws you in. You’d fight for them. Die for them. You don’t get a choice.”

Peter whistled low. “Damn. And you think this girl…?”

“I know it,” Nathan said quietly. “My wolf went ballistic. I could barely hold it together in class. If she gets any closer, I don’t know what’s gonna happen.”

The sharp blast of a whistle echoed down the hall.

“s**t,” Nathan muttered. “We’ll talk more later.”

They jogged toward the gym entrance, sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. As they reached the doorway, the girls’ locker room opened on the other side, and the girls walked out in their shorts and gym T-shirts.

Nathan’s gaze snapped instantly to her.

Rory.

She was the only one not in gym clothes, still wearing her black tank, jacket, and fitted jeggings. Her hair was pulled back now in a loose ponytail, wisps framing her face. She had a slow, almost amused smirk as she walked, swinging her small bag lazily at her side.

“Miss Rodriguez,” Coach grumbled from the center of the court. “You planning to suit up today?”

Rory gave a lazy salute. “Didn’t get the memo. First day, remember?”

Coach rolled his eyes. “Don’t let it happen again.”

She mock-zipped her lips and joined the rest of the girls, completely unfazed. Nathan couldn’t help but stare. She moved with this relaxed kind of confidence—like she didn’t care what anyone thought. No desperate attempts to impress. No fake smiles or bubbly charm. Just raw, real energy.

"Ok today were going to play volleyball." said the coach.

The moment was broken by a shrill chorus of voices.

“Nathan! I’m on your team!”

“No way! He’s with me!”

“He’s always on my team, back off!”

A small swarm of cheerleaders had surrounded him, eyes sparkling, voices saccharine. Normally, Nathan loved it. The attention, the flirting, the way they practically threw themselves at him—it was like breathing air.

But this time… he looked past them.

At Rory.

She stood by the bleachers, one brow raised, arms crossed loosely under her chest as she watched the scene. Her expression wasn’t jealous. It was amused. Bored, even. She gave a small scoff, like she’d seen this exact pathetic performance a thousand times before.

And for the first time in his entire life, Nathan cared what someone thought of him.

More than that—he hated the way she was looking at him.

Like he was just another pretty boy basking in shallow attention.

He looked down, jaw tightening, brushing past the cheerleaders.

The coach blew his whistle. “Alright, enough of that. I’ll assign the teams.”

Collective groans followed.

Nathan didn’t hear them.

He was too busy trying to figure out why it mattered so damn much that Rory had scoffed. He didn’t even know her. She was just some new girl who rode a bike and wore all black and smelled like lavender and vanilla and looked at him like she saw right through him.

And that terrified him more than anything else.

Coach’s whistle cut through the chatter like a gunshot.

“Teams are up!” he barked, clipboard in hand. “Listen for your name and stop whining.”

Nathan barely listened—until he heard Rory’s name.

“Rodriguez, you’re on team one. Grey, you too.”

Of course.

Nathan exhaled slowly. Maybe it was fate. Or maybe the universe just had a really messed-up sense of humor.

They moved to opposite ends of the court—Rory in the front row, Nathan in the back. He kept his distance, focused on grounding himself. Deep breaths. Control.

Then she peeled off her jacket.

Nathan’s stomach clenched.

She wore a tight black tank underneath, hugging every curve. Her smooth shoulders flexed slightly as she moved. But it was her neck that really did it. Her hair had been pulled up in a ponytail, and there—just behind her ear—was a small, intricate Mandala Lotus flower tattoo. Subtle. Delicate. Beautiful.

His fangs pushed down against his will, elongating slightly.

He bit his tongue, hard, feeling blood fill his mouth as he struggled to push the wolf back. But it was getting harder. The wolf didn’t understand high school etiquette or restraint. The wolf only knew one thing:

Mate.

Every inch of his being wanted to move behind her, bury his face in her neck, and mark her. To bite down and claim her as his. Right there. Right now. In front of the entire school.

Coach’s whistle blew again.

“Game on!”

Nathan shook himself and tried to focus. Volleyball. He knew how to play. He was good at it. Tall, fast, coordinated. This should be easy.

But nothing about this game was easy.

Rory moved like she didn’t care about impressing anyone—but she still did everything right. She was quick, reactive, natural. Her ponytail bounced as she pivoted, her arms extending gracefully to hit the ball back over the net. She didn’t laugh or cheer like the other girls. She just played. Confident. Focused.

And God, her scent…

Every time she shifted, he caught a new wave of it. Lavender, vanilla, something earthy he couldn’t name. It wrapped around him like a drug, fogging his thoughts.

His eyes locked on her hips as she jumped to block a shot.

Then WHAM.

The ball smacked him square in the head.

“HA! HEADSHOT!” came a loud, obnoxious voice.

Nathan blinked, stumbling back a step, hand to his temple. Across the net, Tony Davis was doubled over in laughter, clearly proud of himself.

Tony looked and acted like a walking frat party—tall, jacked, smug as hell, with bleach-blond hair and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He was the loudest guy on the football team, a full-time tool with part-time brain cells.

Tony pointed at Nathan. “Bro! You daydreaming about your reflection again or just scared to hit a ball?”

Nathan didn’t answer. His fists clenched. His wolf growled in his head.

Not worth it, he told himself. Not now.

The game continued.

Nathan tried to focus. He really did.

But his eyes kept drifting. To her.

The way Rory’s tank clung to her when she moved. The faint shimmer of sweat on her neck. The subtle muscles in her legs when she jumped. The sound of her boots on the gym floor.

Then it happened.

Rory backed up to catch a lob.

Nathan stepped forward at the same time, eyes on the ball.

Their bodies collided.

Nathan’s chest slammed into Rory’s back.

Her scent hit him like a freight train—raw and consuming. Her body was warm, soft, the perfect shape pressed against his. For half a second, the world stopped spinning. His hands caught her sides instinctively to steady her.

Then—she gasped.

It was a startled gasp. It was soft. Airy. Sensual.

A sound that went straight to his core.

Nathan’s heart skipped a beat. His breath caught.

He didn’t mean to grip her tighter. He didn’t mean to lean forward, closer to her neck. But the wolf inside him roared, demanding to mark, to claim, to own what was his.

And for a terrifying second… Nathan almost let it.

The control slipped.

Her gasp echoed in his ears.

Her body molded into his.

His wolf surged forward—

And Nathan ran.

He didn’t say a word. Didn’t look back. He just took off, sprinting out of the gym doors so fast he left his sneakers squeaking against the floor.

Down the hallway.

Through the back doors.

Past the football field.

Into the trees behind the school.

He barely made it twenty steps into the woods before the shift took him.

Clothes tore. Bones cracked. A low growl ripped through his throat.

His body exploded into fur and muscle.

His pitch-black wolf burst from his human shell with a guttural snarl, massive and terrifying. His bright blue eyes glowed in the shade of the treeline.

He didn’t stop.

He ran.

Fast. Hard. As far from civilization as his paws would carry him.

Out of San Francisco.

Over hills and down through valleys.

Until finally, after a while, the towering giants of the Redwoods rose up to greet him.

And only then—surrounded by the ancient silence of the forest—did Nathan finally slow, breathing ragged, his giant wolf body trembling.

But even there, even miles away from her…

Her scent still lingered in his mind.

And her gasp still echoed in his soul.