Moonless Mate: The Eye of Fate

My Mate

IVY

“My mate!” My pulse pounded in my ears as I stared at him—the stranger, the impossibility.

He was beautiful in a way that made my breath catch, eyes that burned like molten magma in a volcano. He wasn’t just looking at me—he was devouring me with his gaze, like he knew me, like he had been waiting for me. My chest tightened.

No, this wasn’t possible. This was a myth, a story told by hopeless romantics and fools who wanted destiny to hand them something extraordinary. Fated mates didn’t exist—not anymore. Science had made sure that after the great war that destroyed almost all the werewolves, science swept in to fix what is left of civilization and eliminated hierarchy by birth or moon goddess selection, fated mates and suppressed all wolves at birth till they have completed the academy.

We no longer turned to the moon goddess, we turned to science. Fated mates doesn’t exist,

But then, why did I feel like my very bones were bending toward him? Why did my wolf—silent my entire life—suddenly stir inside me, stretching awake as if it had been waiting for this moment?

His lips parted, but no words came out. Mine, too. My body ached, my skin burning in places I didn’t even know could burn. I wanted to move, to speak, to do something, but I was paralyzed by the reality and storm of what this meant.

He stepped closer, and the world tilted. My breath hitched.

“What’s your name?” His voice was deep, rough, like he was barely holding himself together.

I wanted to lie, to walk away, to pretend this wasn’t happening. But the pull was too strong, my body betraying every bit of common sense I had.

“Ivy.”

His eyes darkened. Something shifted in them, possessive, raw. “Ivy.” He repeated my name like he was tasting it, rolling it on his tongue to see how it felt. And then he did the one thing I wasn’t prepared for—he reached for me.

Electricity shot through me the moment his fingers brushed my wrist. My breath left my lungs in a strangled gasp. It was fire, lightning, the universe itself collapsing into this one moment. My wolf howled in recognition. His grip tightened, his other hand coming up to cup the side of my face, his thumb grazing my cheek.

“You’re mine.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. I should have protested. I should have told him he didn’t know me, that he was insane. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him closer because my body refused to let go.

“This is wrong.” My voice was barely above a whisper, my lips just inches from his. I could feel his breath on my skin, warm and intoxicating.

“I don’t care.”

And then his mouth was on mine.

The world shattered.

Heat crashed over me, my body pressing into his like I had no control over it. His hands roamed my back, gripping me like he was afraid I’d disappear. I wasn’t sure if I was breathing anymore. Everything was too much—his touch, his scent, the overwhelming sense of completion that made absolutely no sense. I should have fought it. I should have been stronger.

Instead, I let go.

I had read about this feeling in books, the kind that made heroines lose all reason, but I never thought it was real. Turns out, books had been lying to me. This was worse. This was consuming. My soul was unraveling, breaking apart only to be rebuilt around him. He was everywhere, his lips tracing fire across my skin, his body pressed against mine in ways that should have scared me but didn’t.

Our clothes seemed to vanish, as if the fabric couldn't withstand the heat of our desire as his hands caressed mine, leaving a trail of fire wherever he touched. It was intoxicating, enthralling, exhilarating, and mesmerizing in every sense of the word.

His hands cupped my breasts, thumbs brushing over my hardening n*****s, eliciting a soft moan from my lips. I was on fire, my body responding to his touch with an eagerness that surprised me.

He guided me towards a nearby tree, its rough bark against the softness of our skin. My back pressed against the trunk, and I felt the roughness against my bare skin, heightening my senses even further. His kisses became more demanding

His fingers found the waistband of my panties, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he slid them down my legs, exposing her to the warm summer breeze. My breath caught in my throat, my body trembling with anticipation. I arched my back, offering myself to him. Without a word, he lifted me by back leaning against the tree, he pulled down his pants and without waiting another second, he thrusted deep into me, my world came crashing down to that single moment, when our body became one.

When we finally collapsed into each other, breathless and tangled in the aftermath, the world felt different. Like something inside me had shifted permanently, like I had been rewritten in his image.

For a while, we just lay there our heads against the tree on the green grass, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my arm. I listened to the steadiness of his breathing, grounding myself in the sound. I wanted to say something, anything, but words felt too small.

Then sleep pulled me under, and I let it take me.

When I woke up, he was gone.

Panic hit me first. Then confusion. The space beside me was cold, like he had been gone for a while. My fingers gripped my clothes as I sat up, my mind racing.

No. No, no, no.

I stumbled to my feet, looking around as if I’d find a note, some kind of explanation. But there was nothing. Just emptiness. My heart pounded so hard it hurt.

My wolf whimpered inside me, a sound so foreign I almost didn’t recognize it. I had never felt her before , never heard her voice. Now she was there, restless, pacing, clawing at my insides like she had lost something vital.

Because she had.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

Had I just made the worst mistake of my life?