The Mate Curse

He Called Me what?

Aria’s POV

The city felt extra alive today.

I had my headphones in, humming along to a vibey playlist, the kind that made my boots feel like they were bouncing instead of walking. The breeze was cool, brushing against my cheeks, and the sun was barely out — all soft and hazy behind the clouds. It was the kind of weather that made the world feel like it had secrets.

And weirdly, I was in a good mood.

Like, actually good. Not fake smile good. Not "pretend everything’s fine" good. But… okay. Like I wasn’t just surviving, I was here. Present. Breathing. Feeling human.

I even smiled at a puppy that tried to lick my knee. And I never smile at random dogs. Okay, maybe sometimes.

I grabbed a warm croissant from a street vendor, just because I could, and headed down the block to my favorite little art store — the one with the creaky wooden floors and the cozy chaos of colors everywhere. I had a commission to work on, and I knew exactly what I needed: three brushes, two canvas panels, and the exact right shade of dusky lavender.

The bell over the door jingled as I stepped in. Familiar comfort. The place smelled like paper, paint, and old wood — one of my favorite smells on earth.

I headed straight for the acrylics, crouched down, and started scanning the rows for the right tones. My fingers hovered over a few options — Storm Haze, Pale Peony, Moon Orchid…

And then—

I felt it.

Like… a shift. In the air.

No, in me.

A weird, electric pull started in my chest, spreading through my ribs and down my arms. My spine went all prickly, like someone had traced ice down my back. My fingers froze mid-reach.

I didn’t hear the bell. But I knew someone had just walked in.

And somehow — don’t ask me how — I knew he was looking at me.

I turned.

And saw him.

Tall. Wide shoulders. Black boots. A dark jacket that fit like it had been tailored for a god. His hair was dark too, a little messy like he’d been running his hand through it all day, and his face—God—his face was unreal. Sharp cheekbones. A mouth that looked like it hadn’t smiled in a while. And his eyes.

Golden. Burning. Like someone lit a candle behind them and never blew it out.

And they were locked on me.

The air between us felt thick and silent. The whole world kind of blurred. All I could hear was the thump of my heart, too loud in my chest. I couldn’t even move.

Then his lips moved. I barely heard it.

“Mate.”

I blinked.

“Sorry… what?”

He took a step forward. And another. Slow and calm, but I could feel the tension in him — like he was holding something back. His expression had changed. Like he knew something.

Something I didn’t.

“Do I know you?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure I’d never forget a guy like him.

“No,” he said, voice low. “But I know you.”

Okay. That? That was alarming.

And also? Weirdly intimate.

He kept looking at me like I was made of stars or something.

“I’m not trying to scare you,” he said. “You’re just… You’re mine.”

I took a step back. My heartbeat was now somewhere in my throat. “What—what does that even mean?”

He hesitated. Then said it again, gentler this time.

“You’re my mate.”

Mate.

Mate.

Mate?

My brain glitched.

Mate. Like a… a dog? A wolf? A National Geographic thing? School mate? I doubt that, no way I wouldn't have noticed someone that looked like this..

What was he saying?

My throat closed up. “Okay, no. Nope. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but this—this isn’t normal, and I’m not doing this.”

I turned and walked fast toward the exit. Too fast. Almost ran. The bag of supplies was still in my hand, but I barely remembered grabbing them.

Behind me, I heard footsteps. But they didn’t chase me. They paused.

A quiet voice — not his — muttered something like, “Give her time.”

But my ears were buzzing too loud to make sense of it.

---

I didn’t stop until I found this little side street. A quiet place between two bookstores where no one ever went. There was a bench. I sat down hard.

My hands were shaking.

I set the bag beside me, wrapped my arms around my chest, and stared at the wall across from me like it had answers.

Because… what the hell just happened?

Who was he?

Why did my chest burn when he looked at me? Why did I feel like I knew him without ever seeing him before?

And that word. Mate.

It sounded crazy.

But deep inside me, in the place I don’t talk about, it also sounded… true.

I pulled my hoodie tighter and rested my forehead on my knees.

“What is going on with me?” I whispered.

And I really, really needed someone to tell me I wasn’t going insane.

---

I walked home faster than I probably ever had, clutching the bag of paint supplies like it was some kind of shield. The whole time, I tried to force my brain to not think about the guy from the store—but it didn’t work. Not even a little. His voice echoed in my head—deep and smooth, like velvet laced with something dangerous. And his eyes. God, those eyes weren’t normal. That golden colour wasn’t something you just saw on a regular Tuesday afternoon. It was… otherworldly. And the way he looked at me—like he knew me, like I belonged to him—sent goosebumps crawling down my arms. His presence was overwhelming—tall, broad, stupidly attractive in that "I know I could kill you, but I won’t" kind of way. Dominant. Intense. Like he walked through life never hearing no. But still… what the heck was that word he called me? Mate? What was that supposed to mean? Was he into weird pet names or something? Ugh. I shook my head as I climbed the stairs to my apartment, hoping that maybe a nap would reset my brain. But deep down, I knew sleep wouldn’t come easy. Not after eyes like his.