Fated To Mate

Firm Resolve

KAEL

“What is the plan?” Mike asked after sending the girls to the hospital in town. Now they could spend the rest of their lives in a hospital bed without bothering anyone. Blade wanted to end them entirely, but I argued that it was too extreme, they were human, after all, and had no idea what they did wrong.

"I honestly don't know," I replied running a hand through my hair.

"Your mate is a guy," Josh grumbled, stating the obvious like I hadn't already noticed it myself. "I thought you were going to reject him,” He added. He doesn't understand how difficult that would have been for me. “I thought you liked girls?” he said this more like a question than a statement.

I let out a slow breath. “I thought I did too but maybe I don’t.”

The rest of the drive back to the school passed in silence, the hum of the engine filling the space between us. My thoughts tangled and knotted with every passing mile. This wasn’t part of the plan, but then again, there had never been a plan for this.

All those years of listening to stories from the elders, of imagining what it might be like, I never truly believed I would one day find my mate. And now that I had, I realized just how unprepared I was. Everything felt unfamiliar, thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.

How was I supposed to tell my parents? Would they even Approve?

I glanced out the window, trying to steady my heartbeat. No matter the uncertainty, one truth stood firm: I wasn’t going to turn tail and walk away. Not when fate had finally led me here.

If nothing else, I would find a way to make an arrangement, something that would let me hold on to him, no matter how complicated it became.

“We’re here,” Mike said as the car rolled to a stop in the school’s parking lot, for the second time today, his voice tight with something between warning and worry.

None of us mentioned it, but we all knew exactly what I was about to do, and what it will mean for us going forward.

We had grown up hearing the stories about my great-grandfather and others who paid a hefty price for daring the same thing. A fate awaiting anyone attempting to step across that invisible line wasn’t just a cautionary tale, it was a promise written in blood and memory.

I felt my fingers curl into fists, the resolve hardening in my chest. I understood that standing against a tradition that had ruled our kind for centuries wasn’t just reckless; it was suicide, but I was prepared to fight the battle. A battle I would likely lose before it even began.

I could see the war in my friend's eyes, the hesitation over whether they would still follow me when the fight inevitably came. Deep down, I knew no one else would support my decision. But that didn’t matter. I wasn’t backing down, not without trying.

“I need to talk to him alone” I said finally. “Let’s head in.”

Mike gave me a look but didn’t argue. We walked into the building, our footsteps echoing faintly in the corridor. I didn’t need to ask for directions because his scent was there, light but distinct, pulling me forward.

Students turned their heads as we passed. Some stared openly, others whispered but I ignored all of it, focused only on the trail ahead which stopped at a classroom door.

Inside, Thompson was speaking, his tone calm and measured. He paused when he felt our presence and glanced up at the entrance, the tiniest flicker of recognition passed in his eye, no questions, just a subtle shift, the kind only one of ours would understand.

Conversations in the room stilled. The air tightened. My gaze swept the room until it landed on him.

Thompson waited until we had taken our seats before resuming his lecture, but not before the entire room turned to watch us walk in.

Every pair of eyes followed, tracking each step like we had just wandered in from another world. Whispers rippled through the air, quick and sharp, snatches of speculation slipping past in hushed tones.

Models? Celebrities? Transfer students?

It was all just noise to me, background static against the steady thrum of my own thoughts as I walked straight to Max.

His scent was stronger now, curling in my lungs until it was almost dizzying. Up close, he looked small but also delicate in a way. The hood was pulled down, finally giving me a clear view of his face. Something in his eyes warned me to keep my distance, but I ignored it. Sliding into the chair beside him, I claimed the space like it had always belonged to me.

Behind me, Mike and Josh took the seats in the next row, their presence forming a quiet barrier. Still, the whole room kept staring.

At the front of the class, Thompson cleared his throat and droned on, but I barely heard him. My focus was locked on Max. I found myself wondering about the most ridiculous things, like what he liked to eat, what kind of music he listened to, how old he was, where he lived. Questions stacked one after another, refusing to leave me alone.

Then his pen scratched across the page. He slid his notebook toward me.

DID I DO SOMETHING TO OFFEND YOU?

For a second, I just stared at the words, surprised. Did he think I was here because he offended me?

No. Why would you think that?

I scrawled back before pushing the notebook toward him.

What kind of life had he lived to expect hostility first?

He didn’t reply. Instead, his gaze stayed forward, lips pressed tight. I leaned in, closing the space between us until I could catch the faintest trace of his breath.

“You have nothing to be afraid of,” I murmured, the words meant as reassurance, though judging by the flicker in his eyes, I wasn’t sure they had the intended effect.

I can’t wait for the class to be over. Watching him struggle to keep up with Thompson’s rambling, I noticed the way his pen hesitated, how his writing lagged behind the flow of words and before I could stop myself, I slid his notebook toward me and began neatly jotting down the key points for him.

That way, he would have something clear to read later, something in my handwriting. I don’t know why, but it mattered to me.

Another thirty minutes and the class was finally over. Some students bolted for the door like they had been starving for freedom, while others lingered, their eyes locked on us with thinly veiled curiosity.

There was one girl in particular, someone Max had been watching with a flicker of unease from the time I had taken the seat beside him.

A girlfriend?

The thought stirred something sharp and unwelcome in my chest, a feeling I had never experienced before. Jealousy.

I crushed it down immediately. I couldn’t accept that I might already have strong competition before I had even joined the race.

She'd better be a rival and not a bully. Because if she was the latter, then she can't blame me for being unreasonable.

Surprisingly, she was the first to approach, swaying slightly as if the movement alone might draw attention, her lips smacking in exaggerated sweetness.

“Sis, who are these, care to introduce?” she asked, her tone dripping with sugar.

Sis?

I frowned. Were they related? They look nothing alike. But most importantly, why was she confusing Max for a girl or was that a deliberate insult?

One quick glance at Max told me everything, his eyes held that same nervous tension I had seen earlier. Definitely not a girlfriend. This one was a bully. Good, this made things easier.

Jealousy, I could do without. Bullying? That, I knew exactly how to handle.

Max made a series of quick gestures with his hands, fluid, practiced movements I didn’t understand but found oddly captivating.

Then the girl started speaking as if I was already supposed to know who she was.

“Hi, I’m Max’s sister. My name is Mary,” she said, stretching out her hand toward me. I stared at it, unmoving.

"Can you give us a minute, Max and I have some important stuffs to discuss," I said without taking her hand and she nervously retracted it before saying as a means to cover the awkwardness.

"Oh, What is it about? I always help Max in gatherings, nobody understands..."

“But I do,” I cut in, sharp enough to halt her mid-excuse. I wasn’t about to let her spin more silly reasons why she needed to insert herself into my conversation with my mate.

Her lips twisted as she muttered something under her breath before turning and stalking away.

DO YOU KNOW MY SISTER?

The words were scrawled in Max’s notebook which he held up for me after she left. But I shook my head in the negative, how could I know someone like her when I have never even crossed paths with her before. I even don’t care who she was. Sister, cousin, childhood friend, none of it mattered. What mattered was that she was gone, and I finally had Max to myself.

Mike and Josh knew enough to give us space. Without a word, they stood and, with a few pointed gestures, ushered the remaining students out of the room. The sudden shuffle of movement made Max flinch, his eyes darting toward the door as if unsure what was happening.

A second later, he slid his notebook toward me again.

WHAT DO YOU WANT?

Yes, what did I want from him? And how was I supposed to begin? I stared at the words for another second before scribbling down my own question:

How old are you?

It wasn’t until I pushed the notebook back toward him that I realized I could have just asked aloud, he wasn’t deaf, just nonverbal. Still, the act of writing somehow felt… less intrusive.

He glanced at the words, then back at me, and after a brief pause scribbled his reply.

WHY? DO YOU NEED SOMETHING?

I stared at the question, caught somewhere between amusement and the faint sting of being misunderstood. Why would he think I need something? No, I needed him. But how could I even say that without sounding insane?

"I know this might sound crazy," I began, my voice low so only he could hear, "but I think you’re my soulmate."

The pen in his hand stilled, his gaze snapping to mine with a look that was equal parts disbelief and alarm, like I had just told him I was an alien who came to eat his brain.

Yeah… even I knew how insane that sounded. But he needed to understand why I wasn’t going to just go away, and from this moment on, I was going to keep showing up in his life, whether he was ready for me or not.

YOU ARE INSANE

He wrote it in bold, sharp strokes, then stood so abruptly his chair scraped against the floor.

I shot up with him, my hand darting out before I could think. My fingers closed around his wrist, and I felt sparks flaring up my arm, and racing straight to my chest. My gaze dropped to where our skin touched, and then back to his face, half-expecting him to gasp or flinch.

But his eyes were blank. No recognition or any sign that he felt something.

“Wait,” I blurted, tightening my grip before he could pull away. “I’m sorry I sprang that on you first, it’s just…”

I swallowed, forcing the words out softer this time. “I really like you, and I want to be your friend. Please.”

I swallowed, forcing the words out softer this time. “I really like you, and I want to be your friend. Please.”

That wasn’t the whole truth. I wanted more than just friendship with him, but I couldn’t say that, not right now. If he were one of our kind, I wouldn’t have to dance around the edges of what I felt. He would already know, because he would be feeling the same too. We would be skipping all the cautious small talk and moving straight to the claiming part right about now with no hesitation.

But Max was human. And with humans, there was no guarantee. One wrong move, one too-deep truth too soon, and I could lose him before I ever had the chance to make him mine.