Fated to a Human

Chapter 3

Nathan sat slouched in the back corner of his first period math class, one arm hooked lazily around the back of his chair, the other resting across the desk as he pretended to pay attention. His pencil spun idly between his fingers, but his mind wasn’t on equations or functions.

No. His brain was stuck on something a lot more distracting.

Her.

That girl on the motorcycle—the way she moved, the way she stood. Her body had burned into his memory like a brand. She was everything he liked: curves in all the right places, thick thighs squeezed into black jeggings, a tight tank top that showed off the perfect swell of her chest, and an ass so round and firm it had practically hypnotized him.

He hadn’t even seen her face, but it didn’t matter. That body alone was enough to haunt him.

Nathan leaned forward slightly, running his hand through his hair with a sigh. What the hell is wrong with me? he thought, frustrated. He’d hooked up with Kayla the last night—a quick, hot, forgettable thing—already she was fading from memory. But that mystery girl, though…

She was still in his head. Like a song he couldn’t stop humming.

Then the bell rang.

The shrill screech yanked him back to reality like a slap to the face. Students shuffled out of their seats, grabbing their bags and hurrying to second period. Nathan stood slowly, tossing his pencil into his backpack and slinging it over one shoulder. He exhaled through his nose and rolled his neck once.

Get it together, he told himself. You’ve seen hot girls before.

But even as he made his way down the crowded hallway, dodging freshmen and high-fiving a couple of his teammates, the thought wouldn’t leave him. She was in his bloodstream now. And he hadn’t even met her yet.

He stepped into his next class—Mythology. He only took it for the easy extra credit and the promise of a laid-back semester. Stories about gods and monsters didn’t exactly excite him. I live that crap, he thought wryly. Still, it was an easy A.

Nathan slid into his usual seat in the back row near the window, where the morning sun cast a slanted glow across his desk. The fan in the front corner of the room buzzed and clanked uselessly, spinning warm air in slow, lazy circles. The AC had been broken since last week, and judging by the sweat already forming on a few students' necks, no one was in a rush to fix it.

He leaned back in his seat, gaze drifting out the open window as the soft breeze stirred the papers on his desk.

That’s when it hit him.

Like a freight train.

The scent.

Sweet. Soft. Heavenly. A blend of vanilla and lavender—fresh, earthy, intoxicating. It slammed into him without warning, and his whole body tensed. His head jerked up, eyes wide. He sniffed again, heart slamming against his ribs.

No. No, no, no...

His gaze snapped to the door. She was walking in. Her.

He recognized the clothes instantly—the fitted jeggings hugging thick hips, the tight black tank top under her denim jacket, that same sway in her hips like she owned the world but didn’t give a damn about it. And now, he could see her face.

His mouth went dry.

She was gorgeous.

Dark brown eyes lined in soft kohl, long lashes framing them like velvet curtains. Her skin was flawless—warm olive-toned and glowing against the backdrop of her black hair, which spilled in soft waves just past her shoulders. Her lips were plush, slightly parted as she glanced around the room, and her expression was cool—unbothered, unreadable.

Perfection.

Nathan's grip tightened on the edge of his desk. Wood cracked faintly beneath his fingertips. He couldn’t help it. Her scent was hitting every nerve in his body, lighting his instincts on fire. His pupils dilated. His breathing grew shallow.

She was triggering every feral part of him.

His wolf was clawing under his skin, growling, snarling, mine, mine, MINE.

No. Nathan clenched his jaw and forced himself to look away, but even that didn’t help. Her scent was everywhere. It wrapped around him, invaded his senses, coated his tongue like sugar and sin.

He held his breath.

It was the only thing he could do. He’d trained himself to hold it for long stretches of time—swimming, combat, hiding in plain sight. But not breathing around her was the only way to keep from completely losing control.

And then the teacher finally spoke.

“Alright, class, settle down,” Mr. Ellison said, shuffling some papers. “We’ve got a new student today. Let’s give a warm California welcome to…” He squinted at the attendance sheet. “Aurora Rodriguez?”

The girl paused at the front of the room, adjusting the strap of her backpack. Then, in a calm, melodic voice—husky and smooth like velvet over whiskey—she said, “It’s Rory.”

Nathan’s spine stiffened. Her voice.

It wasn’t overly soft or girly—it had this low, smoky quality, smooth and effortless. Like she could read a grocery list and still give him chills. And right now, it was doing exactly that. A visible shiver rolled down Nathan’s back.

He forced his eyes down to the desk. Don’t look at her again. Don’t breathe. Don’t shift.

“Take a seat wherever you like, Rory,” the teacher said.

To Nathan’s absolute horror—and secret thrill—she walked down the aisle and slid into the seat right next to his.

Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.

Her presence was overwhelming. He could feel the heat from her body. Smell the lavender-vanilla again as a breeze blew it right back in his face.

He nearly growled.

Instead, he gripped his hand on the side of desk, his nails subtly digging into the wood. He stared straight ahead, blinking hard, trying to push her out of his mind.

It didn’t work.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rory noticed the way he was staring. His jaw tight, his breathing sharp, muscles tensed like he was either constipated or about to explode. She didn’t turn her head, but her lips quirked slightly.

Weirdo.

She ignored him and dug out a pen from her bag, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in her chair.

Nathan took a slow, controlled breath—timing it perfectly with a breeze that rushed in through the open window and pushed her scent away just long enough for him to inhale.

His mind was spinning. Mate.

She had to be. It was the only explanation. No scent hit a werewolf like this unless it was their mate. He’d heard about it in legends, sure, but he never believed it. He figured if he ever did find his mate, it’d be some she-wolf from Montana or maybe a girl who was a werewolf.

Not a human.

Not her.

“Alright,” Mr. Ellison’s voice broke through the static in his brain. “Today we’re going over the pantheon of Greek gods—Zeus, Hades, Poseidon, that whole dysfunctional family.”

Nathan wasn’t listening.

He was too focused on Rory. Watching the way she held her pen, the subtle arch in her brow as she jotted down notes with zero effort. She looked bored but alert, like she was always watching from behind glass. Detached. Careful.

Then suddenly, she turned to him.

“What’s your problem?” she asked, flatly. Her tone wasn’t aggressive—just blunt, curious, annoyed.

Nathan’s mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

“I—uh—sorry, I wasn’t—” he stammered, completely caught off guard.

Damn it, pull it together.

“Mr. Grey,” the teacher called out, “since you seem so engaged with your classmate, why don’t you tell us which god ruled the underworld?”

Nathan blinked.

Thank god for werewolf hearing.

“Hades,” he said instantly, eyes snapping forward. “Brother of Zeus and Poseidon. He got the short end of the stick and got sent underground.”

There was a pause. Mr. Ellison nodded. “Correct. Maybe if you stay that focused, you’ll pass this class after all.”

The class chuckled lightly, but Nathan didn’t care. He didn’t even notice.

Because beside him, Rory had turned back to her notes with a raised brow, the corner of her mouth curling upward just slightly.

Not quite a smile.

But something.

Nathan stayed frozen in his seat for a second after the bell rang, chest rising and falling in a ragged rhythm. His heart still thundered in his ears, but it wasn’t from fear. It was something else—something primal and electric. Every nerve in his body felt like it was still buzzing from being so close to her. Rory. That’s what she said to call her. Even her name fit too perfectly—short, sharp, confident.

The moment she walked out of the classroom, it was like a weight lifted from his chest. He finally let himself inhale fully. No lavender. No vanilla. Just stale classroom air and the faint burnt-metal smell from the busted fan up front. Still, it took everything in him not to groan with relief.

He glanced down. The side of his desk was split down the grain, his fingers having gripped it with such force the wood cracked. His knuckles were still white, and a sliver of wood was embedded in the side of his palm. He pulled it out with a wince and quickly sucked in a breath as blood surfaced, but the wound was already healing. Fast. Too fast for anyone to see unless they were staring right at him.

“Get a grip,” he muttered under his breath, flexing his hand as the skin knitted itself closed.

But the wolf inside him… it wasn’t calming down. It was still pacing, snarling, practically clawing at the surface of his control like it wanted out. Like it needed to be near her. That scent—that damn scent—it had burrowed so deep into his brain, it was all he could think about.

He could still feel the phantom trail of it clinging to his skin, like it had marked him. Lavender and vanilla, like a soft whisper and a punch to the gut all at once. He wasn’t even sure how he sat through the rest of the period. Half of him was still in his seat. The other half was somewhere out in the hallway chasing after her like some feral animal.

Nathan ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. His reflection in the window caught his eye. Pupils still dilated. Eyes glowing faintly under the surface, just a flicker—but enough that if someone really looked, they’d notice something was off. He blinked hard until they faded.

He needed to calm down before he saw her again.

He gathered his things slowly, watching the last stragglers file out of the room. Someone bumped into him by accident and mumbled an apology, but he barely registered it.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and stood, his legs stiff like he’d been clenching every muscle in his body for the past forty-five minutes—which, come to think of it, he had.

That wasn’t just a girl.

That was his mate.

He didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t. Not yet. But deep down, his wolf already knew.

And if she really was his mate…

This year just got a hell of a lot more complicated.