My Heartless Mate

Goodbye and Hello

I can't believe it's morning. Waking up, I wonder whether yesterday was just a fever dream. But the ache in my chest and disorder of my room suggest otherwise. 

My parents and I have an awkward breakfast filled with worried stares and useless small talk. Seth, Nina, and Layla arrive soon after and begin helping me sort through clothing, books, and art supplies. My mother packs up a few knick-knacks and family albums to bring with me as well.

She explains, while putting them in a box, "It's for when you get homesick."

After we finished packing it was already half-past eleven. It was time to start saying goodbye. My friends hugged me tightly, whispering promises of texts, phone calls, and visits. My parents then, in tandem, scooped me into my arms. I was the first to separate from them. 

Then he finally arrives, my no-name mate. My mother and the others try to make small talk but he brushes them off. He grabs all my bags and boxes and puts them in the back of his Rover. My friends helped him pack up while my parents talked to me. I watched him climb into the front seat and I finished with my goodbyes. 

“Remember to eat well! Don’t be lazy, you can’t live off of coffee and cookies Caroline!”

“Sure, mom, I promise.”

I head towards the car but turn back one more time to hug her. I step away from her and walk to the car. After looking back one more time at my house, the one I spent my childhood in, at my parents, and friends, I accept this sort of finality. The ending of the adolescent chapter of my life. 

The car ride is silent. We drive through my pack’s territory until we reach the edge of our land. 

I turn to my mate and to ask about sleeping arrangements but he interrupts me.

“Alpha, how l-”

“Don't do that,” he snarls.

 “Do what?” I chimed back.

“Call me Alpha,” he replies, upset. 

I felt a bit taken back. Why didn't he want me calling him alpha? Almost sensing my confusion he further explains, “You’re my mate, you should call me by my given name.”

 He’s frowning, he almost looks like a little kid who had his candy taken away, I hold back a laugh, “Sorry, what’s your name though?”

“Anton. Anton Adler.” He gives me a slight smile.

“Anton, okay,” I sit back. Staring out the window, I think about his name. My inner wolf is gleeful, she knows something else about him. She’s greedy. She wants to know everything. She wants to claim him and never let him go. 

As we drive back, to what I’ll be referring to as home from now on, he speaks again, “I guess we should address yesterday.”

“Yes, probably.”

“I did not intend to treat you so roughly. But my wolf was very very angry and I had difficulty reining him in.”

 I was confused again, “Why were you mad?”

 In a low voice, he replies harshly, “Well, why do you think? When you ran off I thought you were rejecting me!" 

I felt offended, “I would never reject my mate at first glance!”

He looks a little skeptical, “Then why did you run away from me?”

I retorted frustrated, “I needed time to think, I was very surprised to find my mate, it was startling.” 

He snaps, “I didn't exactly ask for this either.”

I don’t reply. I don’t even know what to say. The words hurt, made my chest ache, my wolf whine. I may have not known him very long but knowing the one person made for you, fated for you, didn't even want you, hurt. It hurt a lot. 

I look over at him. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel even tighter. His jaw looks tight, tense even. We spend the rest of the trip in silence, not even with music to distract us.

Soon enough I see those grand old gates. As we pull into the driveway, I can see Paul waiting for us by the door. Not even a second after the ignition is turned off, Anton gets out of the car, slamming his door. 

He yells loudly, “I'm going for a run, my Beta will show you to your bedroom.” Then he shifts and runs off into the woods. I only catch a glimpse of his shifted figure. His wolf is big, sure, not as big as most Alphas though. His coat is a sort of steely grey, an unusual shade with hints of silver and black. I stare off into the direction he ran towards. But all I see is trees and grass. 

Paul tries to make friendly conversation, introducing himself once again, as he leads me to my room.

“I’ll ask pack members to help carry everything in.”

“Thanks,” I mumble.

Before he leaves, he steps closer to me, “If you need anything, let me know. I’m usually in my office, it's the one next to Anton’s, where we met yesterday.”

He turns towards the door but hesitates for a second. He looks back at me and tacks on, You have to give Anton a little time. He isn't the best with communication or expressing his feelings. He should have come back. I’ll remind him to give you a tour too.” 

He, more to himself than me, follows up with, “Actually, it may be better to wait on that tour. He didn’t seem to be in a very good mood.”

When Paul finally leaves, I close the door behind him, sliding down beside it, I begin to cry. It’s pathetic, I’m pathetic, I rarely cried after all. It seems the more time I spend around him, the more emotionally fragile I become. After this embarrassing self-pitying episode, I head towards the en-suite bathroom. I take a hot shower. At least the water pressure is great, soothing my sore muscles and puffy eyes. 

When I step out of the shower, I notice that all of my things have been delivered to the room. I’m too tired to start unpacking. Instead, I throw on a t-shirt and climb into the large four-poster bed, it’s nearly double the size of my own back at home. The sheets are soft and the blankets warm. I welcome the sleepiness.