The Mate Who Was Never Born.

Aria The night was filled with the smell of rain and horror. The streets of Vancouver were empty—too empty for a Thursday night. The dim neon lights flashed and bounced off the puddles. As I ran, my trainers splattering through dirty wetness, my breath caught in my throat. Something was following me.I knew without having to glance back. The weight of its gaze and the sound of its claws striking concrete were palpable to me. "Aria, run!" yelled my pal. But just a few minutes before, her voice had gone. There was silence now. And that noise. That snarl was low. Between two cafés, I turned onto a small alley. After a single buzz, the light above went out. The air turned harsh, cold, and metallic. I pressed my back against the wall and gripped my phone as though it could save my life. The steps were slow, deliberate, and heavy. I mumbled, "Please," not even knowing who I was talking to. Then out of the shadows came a shadow. It stood tall. Too tall. Its eyes glowed scarlet. My heart stopped. I wanted to shout, but I couldn't because of my throat. As it got closer, its lips curved into something other than a smile. Its skin altered, turning into a hybrid of a person and a beast. I staggered back, prepared to flee. However, a powerful voice cut through the darkness before I could move. "Go." Calm was the word. commanding. Nor did it sound human. I pivoted.A man came into the alley with rain trickling down the leather of his jacket. He appeared... unbelievable. wide shoulders. a distinct jawline.The storm has left the hair unkempt and black. But what froze me were his eyes—cold, silver, and dimly glimmering in the darkness. He didn't look at me.. He glanced directly at the creature, ignoring me. The beast growled and lunged. I let out a yell. He moved faster than I could blink. The object was on the ground, and then he was standing next to me. Silence ensued after a flurry of action that included a guttural growl and a flash of claws. The object vanished into black smoke. Gone. My legs failed me.I collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. The man faced me. Not even his breathing was laboured. There was not a single drop of blood on him. "You're safe," he said in a gruff, low voice that suggested he wasn't accustomed to speaking quietly. I looked at him. "Who—who are you?" It is irrelevant. This is not where you should be. I whispered, "I—I live here." My voice sounded little, nearly like that of a toddler. His face sparked with something. Acknowledgement? Anguish? I was unable to determine. He started forward, then stopped. More forcefully, he continued, "Go home." But I remained where I was. There was something about him. It's hazardous, but it's also familiar. It seemed as though I had dreamed about him in the past but had forgotten about it until now. Something inside of me freaked me when he turned to go. I extended my hand and took hold of his arm. The world blew up. I briefly caught glimpses of a woman laughing, a silver dress spinning in the moonlight, and the same silver eyes gazing down at her tenderly. Then came a quiet, melancholy voice. "I'll locate you once more." With a gasp, I staggered back. It felt colder now, the rain. "What—what was that?" I muttered. His jaw tightened. His expression turned blank. "You shouldn't have touched me," he said. "You shouldn't have discovered me." And he was gone before I could respond. Simply vanished. It seemed as though he had disappeared into the rain. I stood there shaking, my heart racing so hard it hurt. My head screamed that none of this made sense, but something else whispered the truth. He was not a human. That object wasn't either. I didn't get any sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his silver eyes and the way he had stared at me like he was remembering a ghost. Around three in the morning, my body began to feel strange. My skin burned and my veins hummed with fire. Something weak and rhythmic was audible to me. similar to a heartbeat. Not mine, though. I stumbled over to the toilet and turned on the light. My reflection stared back at me with wide, scared eyes. Then I noticed it. My irises shone bright for a heartbeat. It disappeared when I blinked. My phone buzzed an unknown number on the counter. UNKNOWN: Keep what you saw tonight a secret. UNKNOWN: Get out of Vancouver if you value your life. I froze. My heart began to race once more. I texted back, my fingers shaking. Who is this? There were three blinking dots. then vanished. Suddenly, my flat seemed too small. The sound of a knock on the door startled me. "Miss James?" The voice was that of a man. deep. Be calm. "Vancouver Police Department." I paused. The glass was still being tapped by the rain. I opened the door slowly. With their badges out, two officers stood there drenched. However, he was partially concealed in the corridor behind them. The alley man. I gasped. He's not supposed to be here. He couldn't be. But there he stood, gazing at me with those same unfathomable eyes. I was about to speak when he gave a little head shake that caught my attention. Don't say a thing was the plain message. The cops entered. One person said, "We're here to ask you a few questions about the incident last night." He was scarcely audible to me. I continued to stare at the man behind them. He had the same expression—cold, unreadable, in command. However, I sensed the same unseen attraction, as if the space between us were alive. Who was he? Why did it seem like I already knew him in my heart? And why did his eyes seem to be grieving for someone or something? KIAN
He ought not to have shown up. But he couldn't get the smell out of his head. The same smell that plagued his nightmares for five years was lavender and rain. She was just a girl, he assured himself. However, each time their gazes locked, his chest hurt more than it had since Stephanie passed away. No, he told himself. It's not possible. Second chances are not given by the Moon. But as he stood in her doorway, terrified and perplexed, he noticed a shift in himself, a whisper he hadn't heard in years. Mate. He clinched his fists, pushing the idea from his mind. He had to prevent it from happening. If it was, then everything he had lost and buried was going to come back to life.