Chapter 10 - The Wrong Touch (Continued)
1611 Words
After Lunch – Hallway
“Say it again,” Robin said, leaning against the locker-room wall. “Slowly. So my brain can fully process the stupidity.”
Dominic glared at him. “You're one concussion away from being useless, don’t push it.”
Antonio huffed out a laugh, then sobered when Dominic didn’t.
They were alone in the back hallway behind the gym, away from curious ears. The echo of bouncing balls and whistles drifted faintly from the far court.
“Dom,” Antonio said, voice low, “You’re you serious?”
Dominic scrubbed a hand over his face.
“She’s my mate,” he said. The words tasted unreal and inevitable all at once, “said Kendra. The exchange student. The one I just—”
He broke off.
He didn’t want to say it out loud.
“The one you just clowned in front of the entire cafeteria,” Robin replied helpfully.
Dominic shot him a death look. Robin held up both hands. “What? It’s true.”
Antonio stared at the floor, then back up. “When?” he asked. “Just now?”
“When I grabbed her,” Dominic said. His fingers curled unconsciously, as they could still feel the phantom of her pulse. “It hit. Hard. The scent, the… everything. My wolf went crazy.”
“And she…?” Antonio asked.
“She doesn’t know,” Dominic said quickly. “She’s human. She felt something—I could see it—but she didn’t know what it was. Which is… good.”
“Good?” Robin echoed. “You sure about that? Cause from where I’m standing, this is a disaster.”
He ticked points off his fingers. “One: she hates your guts. Two: you’ve humiliated her in front of half the school. Three: she’s already on thin ice because of probation and the exchange program. Four—”
“Shut up, Robin,” Antonio said.
He looked at Dominic, eyes serious. “You've got to tell your dad.”
Dominic grimaced. “I know.”
“He’s going to lose it,” Robin said cheerfully.
“Shut. Up,” Dominic growled.
His wolf was pacing in tight circles in his head, snapping and snarling. Every memory of every insult he’d thrown at her, every shove, every laugh, came back with claws on.
He’d been an ass before.
Now?
Now everything he’d done sat on his shoulders like weights.
He thought of the way she’d flinched—just slightly—when he’d said buffet. The way her jaw had tightened.
His stomach turned.
“I didn’t know,” he muttered.
“That excuse expires the second the bond hits,” Antonio said quietly. “After that, everything you do to her, you feel. Ten times worse. That’s how it works, Dom. You know that.”
He knew that.
It was already starting.
Every time he replayed the scene, his chest burned like he was the one being laughed at. His own words echoed back at him, twisted, like someone had shoved him into that version of himself and locked the door.
He pushed off the wall abruptly.
“I’ll talk to Dad after Joint Service,” he said. “He needs to hear it from me, not from some random slip.”
“Hey,” Robin called as Dominic started walking away. “On the plus side, at least your mate can fight.”
Dominic flipped him off without looking back.
That Evening – Principal’s Office
His father’s office smelled like leather, old paper, and faintly of the forest beyond town.
Dominic hovered in the doorway for a full ten seconds before stepping inside.
“Close the door,” Theatus said without looking up from his laptop.
Dominic did.
His father finished typing, hit a key, and then finally raised his eyes.
“You’re early,” Theatus said. “No Joint Service today?”
“It ended at four,” Dominic said. “Miss Hall, let us go. We finished early.”
Theatus nodded once. “How is that going?”
Dominic shifted. “Fine.”
“And your behavior toward Miss Atchinson and her friends?” his father asked, tone mild. “Improved, I hope.”
Dominic’s throat went dry.
This was already going badly.
“There’s something I need to tell you, “he said.
Theatus leaned back in his chair. “That sentence rarely precedes good news,” he said. “Go on.”
Dominic inhaled.
“Today, at lunch,” he said, “I… found my mate.”
For a second, there was no reaction.
Then Theatus’ chair creaked forward slightly as he leaned in, and his eyes suddenly became sharper. “Who?” he asked.
Dominic swallowed. “Kendra Atchinson.”
The silence that followed was heavier than any shouting could have been.
“The exchange student,” Theatus said slowly. “From Jamaica. Human.”
“Yes,” Dominic said.
His father stared at him for a long moment. “How?” he asked.
Dominic blinked. “You know how,” he said, confused. “Contact. Eye contact. It just—”
“When,” Theatus clarified, voice tight. “When did this happen?”
“Today,” Dominic said. “In the cafeteria.”
Theatus’ eyes narrowed. “Specifically,” he said, “before or after you loudly insulted her weight in front of the entire student body?”
Dominic’s heart dropped into his stomach.
“You heard about that?” he muttered.
“Dominic,” his father said, voice low and dangerous now, “I had three staff members report your behavior to me before lunch ended. So again: did the bond snap into place before you called your mate a glutton in front of her peers, or after?”
“After,” Dominic admitted, barely beyond a whisper.
His father closed his eyes briefly, as if warding off a headache.
“Of all the things…” he muttered, then opened them again, pinning Dominic with a look. “You realize what you’ve done.”
“Yes,” Dominic said, heat crawling up his neck.
“You have publicly humiliated your mate—multiple times—without knowing who she was,” Theatus said, ticking off the offenses on invisible fingers. “You tripped her on her first day. You allowed your circle to mock her. You stood by while your girlfriend poured a drink on her head. Now you’ve mocked her body in front of half the school.”
When he listed it like that, Dominic felt physically sick.
“I didn’t know,” he said again, hating how weak it sounded.
“And now you do,” Theatus said. “Which means every choice you make from this point forward is deliberate.”
Dominic looked at the floor. “She hates me,” he said quietly.
“Of course she does,” Theatus replied. “Why shouldn’t she? A bond is not a free pass to someone’s forgiveness.”
“… What do I do?” Dominic forced himself to ask.
Theatus studied him.
“First,” he said, “you control yourself. No more provocations. No more power games. You do not lay a hand on her in anger again. The bond will punish you harder than I ever could if you hurt her.”
Dominic’s wolf whined in agreement, loud in his head.
“Second,” Theatus continued, “you protect her. Quietly. Subtly. Without making her suspicious. Our world remains hidden; she cannot know what she is to you—not yet. Not until I say it’s safe.”
“What if she never finds out?” Dominic asked.
Theatus’ gaze softened by a fraction. “Then you spend your life loving someone from a distance,” he said. “It has happened before. It is not easy. But you will not force this on her.”
Dominic swallowed hard.
“Third,” his father added, “you find a way to make amends for the damage you’ve already done… without dragging our kind into the light in the process.”
“So… I fix what I can,” Dominic said, “and don’t make it worse.”
“Exactly,” Theatus said. “This bond may feel like a curse tonight. One day, you may see it differently. But right now?”
He leaned forward, eyes hard.
“Right now, you will do everything in your power not to break her further.”
Dominic nodded once.
“Yes, sir,” he said. Then, quieter, “Yes, Alpha.”
Theatus’ gaze softened again, just slightly. “You said it happened today,” he said. “At lunch.”
Dominic nodded.
His father sighed. “Then remember this moment,” he said. “Because one mistake, one misstep… and you can hurt your mate in ways that take years to heal.”
Dominic thought of the way she’d hit the floor in the hallway three weeks ago when he tripped her.
He thought of the way he’d watched her fall today—not physically, but under his words.
He had no way of knowing yet that the worst fall was still coming.
That moment in the cafeteria—his fingers closing around her wrist, her eyes locking onto his, the bond snapping into place—
Had happened exactly one week before her body would hit the ground again, bones breaking.
Later, when everything went wrong, when guilt kept him awake long after the moon set, he would think back to this day and hear the same sentence repeatedly in his head like a punishment:
It happened a week before the fall.
- Writer
