BOUND

The Daily Grind

Celia wiped the sweat from her forehead as she steamed the milk for the umpteenth latte of the morning. The café was bustling, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air as the sun streamed through the large windows. She loved days like this, when the coffee flowed and the chatter of the patrons created a lively atmosphere. As a barista, Celia had honed her skills to a fine art, moving with precision and speed as she crafted drink after drink.

Despite the chaos, Celia's mind began to wander. She thought about her plans for the weekend, her upcoming shift schedule, and the novel she was reading in her free time. The familiar rhythm of the café was comforting, and she felt at ease as she worked.

Just as she was getting into the zone, a customer approached the counter, her expression already pinched. "I ORDERED A LATTE WITHOUT MILK! THIS GENERATION CAN'T DO ANYTHING THESE DAYS!" Celia's eyes met the woman's, and she felt a spark of annoyance. She took a deep breath, pasting a calm smile on her face. "Ma'am, I apologize for the mistake. You can't have a latte without—"

The woman's face turned redder, her voice rising. "DON'T YOU TALK BACK AT ME, YOUNG LADY!" Celia clamped her mouth shut, her instincts screaming at her to respond, but she bit back the retort. Dexter, their manager, popped out of his office, sending her a reassuring glance. Celia breathed a silent sigh of relief as he stepped in to handle the situation.

As the drama unfolded, Celia's mind wandered again, this time to the strange feeling she'd been experiencing lately. It was as if she was being watched, or waiting for something. She shook off the thought, focusing on the drinks and the soothing sounds of the café. But the sensation lingered, a gentle hum in the background of her mind. Little did she know, her life was about to take a dramatic turn, one that would shake her very foundations.

Celia is a young woman in her early twenties, with beautiful curly hair, usually tied back in a loose ponytail. Her hazel eyes sparkled with a mix of warmth, her smile easy and infectious. Celia has a small tattoo of a coffee cup on her wrist, a nod to her love of caffeine and her job as a barista. One could say Celia’s life has been a series of ‘almosts’.

She ‘almost’ went to law school. She was ‘almost’ a freelance writer. She almost dated a jerk back in college. And all these near misses was done to please others. Now, after an entire life of pleasing people, Celia moved to Greenfield to start life all over, all on her own terms.

The encounter.

As Marcus stepped into the city of Greenfield, the sounds and the pungent smells assaulted his senses. He despised mornings, but the scent of human-populated cities was even more detestable. The air reeked of decay, and the desperation that seemed to cling to every brick and mortar. Humans called his kind beasts in their stories, but Marcus thought their cities were the true monstrosities.

The mayor's words still lingered in his mind, the memory of their meeting a blur. He had told a lie as instructed by Dennis

"We're a cult, and we'd prefer not to have your people wandering our lands."

The mayor's surprise had been obvious, but Marcus couldn't find it in him to care. After all, it was their land, and they could dictate who entered.

As he walked out of the mayor's office, his wolf's unusual silence caught his attention. Normally, his friend would have made some snarky comment, but right now he was quiet. Marcus didn't mind; he was too busy hating the sights and sounds of the city.

The pedestrian light turned green, and Marcus stepped off the curb. That's when he caught it – a scent that stopped him dead in his tracks. Intoxicating, alluring, and maddeningly sweet, it filled his senses and sent his instincts into overdrive. Lavender and honey, a combination that drove him wild. The world around him melted away as he searched for the source of the scent.

And then he saw her – a vision of brown-haired beauty, moving with a purpose through the crowd. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to chase after her, to claim her as his own. The bus that drove by was a cruel twist of fate, blocking his view of her. Marcus's frustration boiled over, and he growled, much to the alarm of the humans around him.

A mother even covered her child's ears.

When the bus passed, she was gone. That was when his wolf spoke up. Bryan's frustration is kindled against Marcus for letting her go.

"You let her go! Find her, find our mate, or let me do it!" he snarled, almost loosing control.

But the consequences of losing control in public were too dire to risk. And so, with a growl, Marcus stormed back to his home, his anger and frustration boiling over. Once he arrived, he slammed the door to his room, ripping open cabinet doors in search of suppressants to calm his racing heart.

As he struggled to regain control, his wolf's voice, although taunting, tried to offer his host some comfort. Marcus took a deep breath, pressing his forehead against the wall. "In and out, Marc. That's it. Easy." The familiar mantra helped calm his racing thoughts.

"We can go tomorrow. When you're calmer" Bryan supplies.

With a calmer mind, Marcus goes to bed. And for the first time in years, Marcus didn't dream of the terror that haunted him since he was twelve. Instead, he dreamed of coffee-brown hair and the scent of honey, a tantalizing glimpse of a future that might be his.

The next day for Celia begins with a jolt, literally, as she was bumped into by a rude stranger, which sends her coffee flying. Sharp words sprang to her lips, but she bit them back, unwilling to engage with the inconsiderate individual. Instead, she ensured her clothes were coffee-free and continued on her way to work, her expression neutral.

As she walked into the café, Dexter greeted her with his usual enthusiasm. "Celia! Bright and early like a good chap. Good morning, you look-"

Celia cut him off with a grumble, "Save it," and walked past him, her eyes fixed on the counter.

Dexter tried again, "You could at least try smiling more-" but Celia shut him down once more, "I'll smile when you give me a raise." Dexter's awkward chuckle followed her as he slipped away, having nothing more to say.

The rest of Celia's day was just as uneventful, with difficult customers and a sense of monotony that seemed to cling to every task. As the shift drew to a close, Celia felt a mix of relief and exhaustion. She was more than happy to be done with the day, to leave the café behind and head home.

Celia trudged home, her bag sagging off her shoulder and her eyes heavy with fatigue. As she walked, a peculiar sensation washed over her, similar to the one she'd experienced the day before. Her heart felt like it was sinking, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. She paused, trying to pinpoint the cause of this strange sensation, and as she did, it grew stronger.

Before she could process what was happening, a hand grasped her arm, sending a jolt through her body. "Mate," a deep voice said, the word spoken with a sense of possessiveness. Celia's eyes snapped up to meet the stranger's, and she felt a surge of unease. "Excuse me?" she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

The stranger's grip tightened, and he began to speak again, "You're my-" but Celia didn't let him finish. With a swift motion, she wrenched her arm free and took a few steps back, her eyes locked on the stranger's intense gaze. "Please let go of my arm, you're hurting me!" she exclaimed, her voice firm and assertive. The stranger's eyes seemed to flash with something primal, but Celia didn't back down, her heart racing with a mix of fear, confusion and adrenaline.

Marcus’ brows furrow in confusion. Not understanding why his fated mate was reacting to him in this manner.

“But you’re-.” Marcus pauses. And underneath the sweet scent of honey and lavender, as the daze calms down enough for his mind to think. He catches another scent.

Human.

Celia steps back, her stance rigid. Her flight or flight instinct obviously activated in that moment.

Marcus tries to grab hold of her once more. “I will scream if you touch me” she reinforces and Marcus has no other choice but to let her go.

Following that disastrous meeting, Marcus has no other choice but to go to his alpha and friend for counsel later that day.

Dennis sat beside Marcus, his expression serious as the news sank in. "Your mate is a what?" he asked, his voice laced with surprise.

"Human," Bryan supplied, his tone matter-of-fact.

Dennis's eyes narrowed. "Are you certain? I mean, she could be part human or-"

Marcus cut him off, his voice firm. "Dennis, I know what a human looks and smells like."

Dennis's expression sobered immediately, and he sighed, sitting beside Marcus. "I don't know what to do," Marcus lamented, his frustration palpable. "I want her, I want her to acknowledge me as her mate. I'm her mate. But underneath that scent... she's human. And she doesn't know."

Dennis nodded sympathetically. "Can this even be?" Marcus asked, his voice tinged with desperation. Dennis sighed again. "Aye, it happens quite rarely. One in every thousand wolves have human mates... the goddess must really dislike you, brother," he said, attempting to inject some humor into the situation.

Marcus chuckled, a small smile playing on his lips. "It would appear so," he said. Dennis proposed a solution. "I believe you have to do this the old human-fashioned way. Befriend her, woo her, and then tell her what you are."

Marcus's eyes lit up with understanding. "Hm?" he asked, his interest piqued. "You've got no other choice," Dennis said, his tone matter-of-fact. "Befriend her, and then... well, the rest is up to you."

Marcus nodded resolutely. "I shall mate with my mate one way or another," he declared. "Thank you, brother. You were surprisingly helpful."

Dennis's expression turned mock-offended. "No need to thank me- surprisingly?! You little sh—" But before he could finish, Marcus was gone.