The Mate She Chose

Chapter 4

Octavia's Point of View

The music still thrums in the walls as I descend the staircase, each step heavier than the last. The heels of my boots click against the polished wood, a sharp contrast to the laughter and muffled voices spilling from the party in the backyard. I keep my eyes fixed on the front door, refusing to let them wander back to the place where my heart just twisted in on itself.

The air feels thick, hot and cloying with the scent of too many wolves in one space, but beneath it lingers his scent. That intoxicating pull I have waited for my whole life, now tainted and sour in my chest. My stomach knots. I push through the crowd in the foyer, ignoring the curious glances. Not now. Not ever.

The cool night air beckons through the open door ahead, and I move towards it like it is the only thing keeping me standing.

“Ava?”

I glance up to see Kai weaving through the bodies towards me, his brows pinched in concern. He has ditched his drink somewhere, his focus locked entirely on me.

“Hey, Ava... what happened? What is wrong?”

My throat feels tight, but my eyes stay dry. I just shake my head. “My mate,” I say, the words tasting bitter. “I just found him… and rejected him. Without ever seeing his face.”

Kai blinks, confusion flickering across his features. “Why would you reject him without meeting him?”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “He did not seem too bothered, buried in and tangled with another woman.” The disgust in my voice makes my lip curl.

Kai’s jaw tightens, his expression shifting to something quieter, softer. “Ooh,” is all he manages, his voice low.

I shake my head again, the weight in my chest pressing harder. “All the times I have dreamed about meeting my mate… I never imagined this.”

He nods his head, but his eyes seem sad, hurt, even. “You deserve better than him, Ava,” he says firmly. Then he jerks his head towards the street. “Let’s get you home.”

The cool air swallows me as I step outside, leaving the noise, the scent, and the disappointment behind, at least for now.

Kai and I walk to the car and get in without another word.

The hum of the engine fills the silence between us, a steady, low sound that somehow makes the quiet louder. Streetlights streak past the windows in fleeting flashes, throwing slices of gold across Kai’s face before plunging him back into shadow. Neither of us speaks.

I lean my head back against the seat, staring out at the blur of trees as we leave Fangholt territory behind. My mind will not stop replaying it, the scent hitting me like lightning, the way my pulse had surged with recognition, the pull that felt like gravity itself… only to see him with her. Every time the image flickers through my head, my stomach twists tighter.

The road winds through the forest, and I find myself gripping the seatbelt, my nails digging into the fabric. There is no music, no conversation, just the soft whoosh of tires on asphalt and the occasional rustle of leaves in the night breeze. I can feel Kai’s glances at me, quick and cautious, but I keep my eyes fixed forward.

When we finally pull up in front of the Lunaris pack house, the familiar sight of its towering structure and warm lights should feel comforting. But tonight, it just feels heavy.

Kai shifts the car into park, then turns towards me. His voice is quiet but steady. “I am sorry that you had to reject your mate, but you deserve much better than someone who sleeps around.”

I meet his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes cutting through the fog in my head. I nod my head. “Thank you for everything, Kai. See you tomorrow at the Moonspire Academy.”

Before the silence can stretch again, I push open the door. The night air is cool against my skin, sharper than I expect. I head up the steps, the sound of the car still idling behind me, and let myself into the pack house.

By the time I reach my room, the weight of the day feels like it is pressing me into the floor. But even as I close the door and lean against it, his scent still lingers in my mind, sweet, magnetic… and poisoned.

I stay there leaning against my bedroom door for a moment, staring at nothing. The walls feel closer tonight, like the air itself is pressing in. My muscles ache, not from the party, but from holding myself together.

The bathroom light flickers on with a soft click. I twist the shower taps, listening to the pipes groan before the water spills out. The sound is almost soothing, a steady rush that drowns out the echo of my own thoughts. Steam begins to curl upward, swirling against the cool mirror, fogging the glass in uneven shapes.

I strip off my clothes piece by piece, not bothering to fold them, letting them fall where they land on the cold tiles. My skin prickles in the cooling air, the faintest trace of his scent still clinging, sweet, addictive, wrong.

The steam thickens, warm and damp, curling around my legs as I step into the shower. The first touch of heat makes me sigh, the water sliding over my skin. I reach for the soap and start scrubbing hard, my hands moving faster than my thoughts.

It is not just about washing away the scent, it is the memory. The pull in my chest when I found him. The crushing disappointment when I saw the truth. My palms drag over my arms, my neck, my hair, again and again, as if I can erase the imprint of him from my very skin.

The water runs hotter, turning my cheeks pink, but I do not turn it down. I let it sting, let it burn, because it keeps me from thinking. Keeps me from feeling.

When the steam is so thick it blurs the edges of the room, I finally stop scrubbing. But the scent is gone only from my body. Inside my head, it still lingers, taunting and impossible to wash away.

The steam from my shower clings to my skin as I push open the bathroom door, the cool air of my bedroom rushing to meet me. A white towel is wrapped snug around my body, still damp from the shower, my hair dripping in slow, heavy drops down my back.

I freeze in the doorway.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap, is my mother, Selene. Her head lifts when she hears me, and the moment her silver flecked eyes meet mine, I know she sees it. The stiffness in my shoulders. The quiet storm brewing behind my expression.

“Octavia,” she says softly, tilting her head the way she always does when she is worried. “Something is wrong. What happened?”

I tighten my grip on the towel, the damp fabric twisting in my fists. The truth trembles on the edge of my tongue, but I cannot. I cannot tell her about the scent, the pull, the crushing disappointment that followed. I cannot bring that shame into her eyes.

So I just shake my head. “It is nothing, Mom. Just tired.”

Her gaze lingers on me for a heartbeat too long, like she is deciding whether to push. But then she sighs, her expression softening. “Alright,” she says quietly. “I came in to see if you are ready to leave for the training center tomorrow.”

The shift in topic is a relief, and I cling to it. I force a small smile and nod my head. “Yeah. I am really excited.”

She smiles back, but I can still see the trace of doubt in her eyes as she stands. “Good. It will be a big step for you, Ava. Get some rest.”

When she leaves, the room feels a little colder. I let out a slow breath, sinking onto the edge of my bed, my towel dampening the blankets beneath me. Excited? Sure. But beneath it, there is something else, something heavier, that I cannot wash away.