Mate
721 Words
"Sir, are you okay?"
"Hey?"
Luna strained, muscles trembling as he struggled to hold the heavy body slumped across his shoulder.
The weight was nearly impossible, yet he couldn't let go. A flicker of memory surfaced—the woman from the party, the one who had spoken to him briefly—and it tugged at his mind.
He exhaled sharply, trying to push the body away, but it was useless. No matter how he shifted, it clung to him, unyielding.
"Ahhh!" Luna's voice cracked as the open space blurred, and a room finally snapped into focus.
Electric blue light bathed the walls, casting long, dancing shadows across the corners. His feet stumbled over the polished floor, and the scent of cinnamon mingled, thickening the surrounding air.
The bed before him was impossibly large; silk sheets shimmered under the muted glow. It dominated the room, commanding attention, almost daring him to set his body down.
Luna's heart pounded—not just from the weight he carried, but from the sudden, unnerving relocation of the space.
What sort of magic trick? Please return me to the party.
"Please. I don't know you. Where am I?" Luna held himself back from screaming as the man adjusted his waist strip.
Eliot was not in his right mind. He could perceive honey, something alive and pulsing in the air, and his brain seemed to flash with hunger.
He staggered back, shaking his head.
"No!" he slapped his face, not stopping.
Luna stood watching; he adjusted to every sound of smack.
His every instinct was screaming at him to flee.
Colored smoke spiraled from Eliot's body, curling in faint tendrils of violet and gold. It wove through the air, wrapping around Luna like invisible threads, making his chest tighten. He tried to step back, but the pull was immediate and irresistible.
Eliot straightened; his arm fell off his reddened face, his gaze scanning the body before him.
He leaned closer, voice low and urgent.
"Just a bite."
Luna's eyes widened.
I can't ruin my image for this.
"What… what is happening?" Luna whispered, voice trembling in fear.
He quivered, restraining from pulling.
What sort of breed is this?
Eliot's smirk deepened, a mixture of hunger and vulnerable need. The smoke shifted, pulsing with a rhythm Luna couldn't identify—his own pulse or Eliot's, he wasn't sure.
Fangs elongated. Teeth grazed his flesh—painless, precise. His hair had grown longer, his eyes glinting red.
He stepped forward.
Luna swallowed hard, terror flickering in her eyes.
"Am I your mate?" he cried out, unprepared to face anyone—let alone this.
I'm not a prey, I'm also a high breed. Why is he too powerful?
"A bite!" Eliot struggled, trying to rein in the demon within, but it clawed its way forward, overwhelming him.
What if I say no?
"What's your name?" Luna's voice trembled as a swift gust of air blew on his face.
I'll come back for you!
Before he could react, Eliot lunged. Luna landed on the bed with Eliot pinning him down.
Bite.
Bite.
Bite.
Eliot held him, controlled and fierce, yet as his eyes caught Luna's, something stopped him. Those golden, unguarded eyes held him—he had seen those eyes, but from where?
Their gaze met.
He trembled.
"What's your name?" Luna repeated, voice beneath his bud.
Both his hands were held above his head with a firm grip.
"Eliot," he admitted—swift, almost instinctively.
Their breaths moved in rhythm.
The bite came sharply.
His eyes widened.
Luna braced for pain, but what overtook him was shockingly different—pleasure.
He felt something stir inside him that no alpha had ever awakened. No alpha had ever bitten him before. Not even once.
The sensation, fierce and intimate, ignited something wild and new within him — desire colliding, leaving him breathless.
A chill ran down his spine.
Vulnerability crushed his mind.
"El… iot," Luna lip patted as a moan escaped his hold.
"You are mine. My omega." Eliot's voice was low, commanding, as he licked the faint trace of blood.
The words resonated, and Luna shivered, caught between desire and the irresistible pull of what was about to happen.
Eliot straightened, his chest rising with measured control. His eyes never left Luna, a low, predatory gleam sharpening their color.
- Writer
