Chapter 4 - Mate
1209 Words
“When fists fly, destiny walks in calmly”
Julieta POV
We parked inside the parking structure, still laughing and talking as we headed toward The Howl Moon Bar.
There was a long line wrapped around the entrance, everyone waiting to get through security, but Nate was up front waving wildly for us to hurry.
Even so, security still had to check us.
I unzipped all my jacket pockets and showed everything I had.
“You can’t come in with the pepper spray,” the guard said.
“Why? It’s over-the-counter self-defense,” I replied.
“Sorry, ma’am. You either throw it away or take it back to your car.”
I looked at Eric.
“Can I have your keys? I’ll put it away.”
“Come on, JULIETA. Just throw it away,” Nate groaned. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
“No. My brother gave it to me. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“We’ll go, Nate. I’m coming with you,” Eric said.
We speed-walked back toward the parking lot.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I just can’t throw it away.”
“It’s okay,” Eric said. “I don’t get why they sell them everywhere but won’t allow them in public events.”
I hid the pepper spray in the passenger door pocket. We locked the car and hurried back.
But when we reached the bar…
The long line was gone.
The security guards were gone.
Nate was nowhere.
Instead, chairs were flying, cups crashing, trash everywhere, and people beating the hell out of each other.
The entire bar was an open outdoor space, and above us the full moon shined bright and cold.
Chaos. Pure chaos.
“I’m getting the car. Find Nate!” Eric yelled before running back.
I stepped inside the crowd, trying to spot a tall, ginger-haired six-foot giant in the mess.
I’m only five-two — all I could see were bodies, fists, and objects flying over my head.
Finally, I spotted long red hair.
Nate — punching some guy across the face.
I was pushing toward him when someone yanked my hair from behind.
I spun around.
Anna.
WTF is Anna doing here?
She kept pulling my hair, screaming like a psycho.
So I slammed my forehead into her nose.
She stumbled back, holding her bleeding face.
“You f*****g b***h!” she shrieked.
I looked for Nate again, but he had vanished into the chaos.
Instead, the guy he’d punched earlier was rushing toward me, arm raised, ready to smack me.
Before he could touch me, a tall man stepped in front of me.
He grabbed the guy by the shirt and punched him so hard the man flew backward and crashed through a chair.
The tall man turned toward me.
Everything went silent.
Everything paused.
The world froze.
His ocean-blue eyes locked onto mine, and I forgot how to breathe.
Warmth rushed through my chest, my stomach, my back, even my forehead.
I couldn’t move.
He walked toward me slowly, never breaking eye contact.
He glowed for me.
He smelled like vetiver, rosewood, rosemary, and bergamot.
The scent hit me so hard I felt feverish — like my body caught fire.
I wanted him. Badly.
His arms slid around my waist and pulled me close, protecting me without looking away from my eyes.
He leaned in, brushing his nose softly against my ear.
My eyes fluttered shut as chills ran down my body.
He inhaled me, traced down my neck, barely touching me with his nose.
He hugged me tighter.
“Mate…” he whispered.
Without thinking, I rose on my toes and wrapped my arms around him, rubbing his back.
He was wearing a dark blue collared shirt tucked into dark gray dress pants, black belt, clean shave, short styled hair, tall — at least six-four.
Muscular.
Dangerous.
Beautiful.
I wanted him to kiss me.
I tilted my head, ready for his mouth when—
He suddenly pulled away like he’d touched fire.
He pushed me back.
My chest stung.
My eyes burned.
Why did he push me away?
He saw my expression and stepped toward me again.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to do that…” he said, but his eyes flickered — black to blue, then pure blue again, glaring at me with anger.
“What are you?” he asked.
I blinked in confusion.
What the actual f**k?
I looked around — the bar was still a disaster — and it hit me that he was probably drunk and confused.
Maybe he had a girlfriend and regretted touching me.
Still… why did I feel so hurt?
I turned to leave and search for Nate before Eric returned.
But the stranger grabbed my arm.
“Tell me what you are. You’re not human,” he growled.
Oh great.
Definitely drunk.
And crazy.
I tried to pull away, but he gripped harder, pulling me toward him.
Then out of nowhere—
A fist slammed into his jaw.
He staggered back, releasing me.
His eyes went pitch black in rage.
Eric stood in front of me, already pulling me behind him.
“We need to go — NOW. Nate’s in the car. He’s bleeding,” Eric said urgently.
Shit. I was supposed to find him.
I grabbed Eric’s hand, and we ran.
We sprinted to the car parked out front.
The stranger stood there staring at me the whole time, face serious, eyes dark.
I got into the passenger seat.
Three guys were crammed in the back — one of them Nate, with someone holding a bloody towel to his head.
Eric drove fast.
“What the hell happened? How did everything go to s**t in ten minutes?” Eric asked the guys.
They said nothing.
They all looked beaten, staring blankly.
“It was Anna,” I said.
Eric glanced at me. “What?”
“When I found Nate, he was punching the guy Anna was… doing stuff with.”
I rolled my eyes. “When I tried to get to him, the b***h pulled my hair. I broke her nose. Then the other guy came at me, and that stranger saved me.”
Eric looked furious and confused.
“Who invited her?”
“It wasn’t me,” Nate muttered.
“Don’t talk. You’ll bleed more,” I told him. “Eric, this is not the time for your bullshit questions. Look at Nate. If we go to the hospital, they’ll ask for a police report. What are we supposed to say?”
Eric stayed silent.
“It’s okay,” Nate whispered. “My sister can stitch me up.”
I shot Eric a glare.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said.
“No,” I snapped. “Find out why she was there and why she attacked us. Whatever happened between you two — that’s your problem. But this? This is on her.”
“I’ll find out,” Eric said quietly.
We dropped the guys at Nate’s sister’s place, then headed home.
We didn’t talk.
We just split into our rooms.
I lay in bed, boiling with anger.
Mad, mad, mad.
But not at Anna.
Not at Eric.
At him.
That stranger.
Why?
- Writer
