Fated to a Human

Chapter 8

The cool night breeze hit Nathan’s face as he jogged lightly through the sand, eyes fixed on the silhouette ahead.

Rory stood near the waterline, hoodie cropped just enough for the wind to catch its edges. Her back was to him, arms folded loosely as she stared out at the black stretch of ocean. The moonlight painted her in silver and shadow, and as the wind tugged her hoodie aside, Nathan caught sight of something unexpected—another tattoo. A thin, intricate Mandala design trailed down the center of her spine, perfectly inked and partially visible beneath her hoodie.

His wolf stirred.

She must have heard him approach, but she didn’t turn. “You following me now?” she asked, her tone casual. Unbothered.

“No,” Nathan said quickly, slowing to a stop. “Okay. Kind of.”

She gave a short, dry laugh. “Weird.” She turned to look at him.

The wind shifted again, and this time when she turned, the moonlight revealed another tattoo—just a glimpse of it, peeking out from under the curve of her ribcage beneath her cropped hoodie. Another Mandala. Her skin was smooth, the ink delicate but bold, and Nathan had to force his eyes back up to her face.

She stared at him, expression unreadable. “Look, if this is about your ex climbing all over you back there, save it.”

Nathan blinked. “I—what?”

“I don’t care,” Rory said plainly, brushing her hair out of her face. “It’s not my business. I barely know you.”

Nathan opened his mouth, then closed it again. For some reason, that stung more than he expected.

“I just…” he started, then exhaled. “I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

Rory tilted her head. “Why do you care what I think? You don’t even know me.”

He hesitated. “I know, but—”

She cut him off with a shrug. “It’s your life. If you wanna let some desperate ex crawl into your lap in public, that’s on you. I’m not judging.”

Nathan frowned slightly. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure.” She turned back toward the ocean. “Still not my problem.”

“I wasn’t waiting for her,” he said, almost under his breath. “I was hoping you'd come.”

Rory didn’t respond right away. She watched the waves roll in and out, face calm, posture relaxed.

Finally, she glanced at him again. “You don’t even know if you like me. You just met me.”

Nathan swallowed. Her words were matter-of-fact, but they hit harder than anything Skylar ever said.

Nathan sighed. “I usually don’t care, but… tonight I did.”

That caught her attention. She studied him for a second, her expression softening just slightly. “Why tonight?”

He hesitated, eyes dropping to the sand, then back to hers. “Because I thought maybe you’d come.”

Rory gave him a long look, like she was trying to decide whether or not to believe him. “So what, you were gonna ditch the Barbie to impress the weird new girl in all black?”

He smirked. “You’re not weird.”

“I have a neck tattoo.”

He shrugged. “Still not weird.”

“You’re weird.”

He chuckled. “Maybe.”

She cracked a small smile, just for a second. Then it disappeared. “Look… I didn’t come here for drama. I moved to this town to avoid it.”

“You won’t get drama from me,” Nathan said quietly. “I swear.”

Rory looked at him again, this time slower. More curious. Her eyes traveled across his face, down to the tensed muscles in his arms, then back up. “You always this serious, football boy?”

“Only when it matters.”

The tide rolled in a little closer, the cold water washing over their bare feet. Neither of them moved.

“Peter said you’re some big shot around here,” Rory said casually. “Mr. Popular. Captain of the football team. Date-the-head-cheerleader cliché.”

Nathan rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

“Just saying,” she said. “You don’t exactly scream… ‘loner.’”

“You’d be surprised,” he murmured.

Something about the way he said it made her pause. There was more behind those words. Something quiet. Hidden.

Nathan’s voice dropped lower. “You ever feel like… even when you're surrounded by people, you're still completely alone?”

Rory’s breath caught in her throat.

Her eyes flickered, softening. “Yeah,” she whispered. “All the time.”

The silence between them now wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Intimate.

Nathan stepped closer, not too much—but enough to feel the heat from her body. Enough for his wolf to press eagerly against the edge of his skin, desperate to be closer.

He wanted to touch her.

To smell her.

To know her.

But instead, he just said, “Thanks for coming.”

Rory gave him a small smile, the kind you only gave someone when you weren’t ready to admit how much you appreciated them.

Then she nodded toward the fire in the distance. “So… is this the part where you offer me a drink and try to get me to dance with you?”

Nathan grinned. “Would you say yes if I did?”

Rory shrugged. “Depends. You gonna let Barbie cut in again?”

He snorted. “Not a chance.”

She smirked. “Alright then, football boy. Lead the way.”

And with that, Nathan’s heart pounded in his chest as he walked beside her, back toward the bonfire, the soft brush of her arm against his enough to make his wolf purr in contentment.

This night had just taken a turn—and for once, it wasn’t for the worse.

They made their way back to the bonfire, the music thumping louder the closer they got. The scent of smoke, salt, beer, and bodies thickened the air, but Nathan’s attention stayed locked on Rory. Even in the chaos, she somehow moved like she belonged outside of it. Like she was watching it all from a step away.

Nathan paused at the drink table and picked up two plastic cups. He brought the first to his nose and sniffed discreetly—checking for anything off. He normally wouldn’t have cared. Most of the stuff at these parties barely affected him anyway. Perks of being a werewolf: insanely high metabolism, rapid detox, and near-immunity to casual substances. It took a lot to get him drunk or even buzzed.

But this wasn’t about him.

This was for her.

He sniffed again, slower this time. No laced fruity punch. Just a weak mix of soda and cheap rum.

Safe.

He handed it to Rory without a word.

She raised an eyebrow at him, amused, but took the cup. Nathan couldn’t take his eyes off her as she lifted it to her lips. His stomach clenched when her mouth closed around the rim—those full, plump lips wrapping so casually around the plastic like she had no idea what she was doing to him.

His wolf stirred violently in his chest.

The music pulsed louder, and the crowd at the center of the fire pit grew wilder. People were dancing, grinding, shouting. Bodies writhed together like one chaotic organism lit by firelight and teenage recklessness.

Then he spotted Peter—already a little sweaty, very high, and absolutely glowing. He was pressed against some tall, lean guy with a septum piercing, making out like the world was ending.

Rory chuckled beside him. “Wow. He has no shame, does he?”

Nathan snorted, taking a drink. “None. At all. He’s a total manwhore.”

“Good for him,” she muttered with a crooked grin.

Peter finally noticed them through the crowd. His eyes lit up, pupils far too large to be sober. “RORY!” he screamed over the music, pushing away from his hookup and barreling toward her like a glitter-covered freight train. “Come dance with me, baby!”

“Wait—Peter—” Rory started, but he was already there, grabbing her by the hand and yanking her into the throng.

Nathan watched helplessly as they disappeared into the writhing chaos.

He stood at the edge of it, drink forgotten in his hand.

Then he saw her again.

Rory was laughing—head thrown back, hair wild. She moved like water. Like the music was something inside her, not around her. Every movement was fluid, flawless, effortless. She didn’t try to be sexy—she just was. Her hips swayed, arms lifted, and the firelight caught the subtle flex of muscle under her skin. Her stomach, her legs—every inch of her was alive and hypnotic.

Nathan’s grip on his cup tightened until the plastic creaked.

His wolf surged forward, pressing against the inside of his skin like it might break free.

Mine.

The word rang in his skull like a bell.

He fought it, but his eyes stayed locked on her.

The way her tattoo glowed faintly under the firelight when she spun.

The way her skin glistened lightly with sweat.

The way she smiled.

He could barely breathe. Every part of him wanted to storm into that crowd, wrap his arms around her, pull her against him and claim her in front of everyone. Not because he wanted to show off—but because some primal part of him needed the world to know she was his. Even if she didn’t know it yet.

Even if she wouldn’t believe it.

Nathan swallowed hard, jaw tight, forcing his wolf back down.

Not yet.

But soon.

He couldn't take his eyes off her.