My Unwanted Mate

Chapter 10. Mine

Veronica

The early September sun shines brightly in my eyes as I take a last look in the rearview mirror of the burgundy red SUV. I spot the tiniest smudge of lipstick at the corner of my lips and reach to wipe it away with the tip of my thumb before I check myself again. My face looks flawless, and so do my hair and my clothes. Perfect. It has to be.

I take a deep breath, and then another one, trying to calm my nerves even though I am perfectly aware there is no reason for them. Well, no other reason than the shouting and wooing coming from the front of the high-school building. I faintly realise there is something else too - some nagging feeling, the sensation of butterflies in my stomach as if there is someone watching me, or someone I should be looking out for.

My pulse raises a little as my breath catches in my throat, and I try to pin it on the loud noise from outside.

I hate loud noises, and crowds and people staring at me like I am crazy. I don’t believe anyone is going to look at me like that here though, still the feeling doesn’t go away.

With a sigh, I finally leave the comfort of the car and grabbing the books from the passenger seat, I head toward Redwind High’s front yard. During the weekend I studied the position of the buildings and what is where hoping I won’t miss anything. So far so good - I found the parking lot without a problem. How hard should the rest be?

I walk with strong confident steps through the parking lot, returning the smiles and greetings from Geneva’s peers, most of whom I don’t actually recognize. My own smile stretches across my face in exactly the right amount of politeness, excitement, and superiority. I am holding my notebooks and my purse with confidence, even though my grip is so tight that my knuckles are white and my perfectly manicured nails are digging tiny half-moons on the leather binding of Geneva’s favorite planner.

There is something in the air, I realize. Some faint scent of cedar and pines, something masculine I haven’t noticed until now. It grips at my senses, and I feel it like someone’s too strong cologne, but for some reason, I don’t want to escape immediately. On the contrary, I want to run toward the person wearing it.

Under my large sunglasses, I scan the area for the source of this scent, unconsciously eager to find it. I feel drawn towards it, and something deep inside me, something dangerously related to the inexplicable butterflies in my belly, which grow stronger with every step I take, tells me it is important. Which is stupid, I know it, but I am not able to explain the sudden gooseflesh on my skin. It is not the morning chill that makes me tremble.

I try to pin the feeling on the noises which get louder and louder as I get closer, and I know it is the reason for my growing anxiety. The only thought in my head is make it stop, make it stop, make it stop. It ticks on the walls of my skull like a broken clock that never gets the time right.

I feel trapped in my head again. Letting my eyes roam the large high-school yard, I finally find the reason for the commotion right at the entrance of the school building. I am still not able to see what is happening, but I can hear the cheering and wooing; the mocking laughter, and the unanswered pathetic pleas that come right after that.

That last one makes the blood freeze in my veins. A dark shadow runs through my thoughts, but I tighten my grip on my books and force the bad memory away. I am not a pitiful creature begging for mercy anymore. I took care of it. And I will not tolerate harassment in my high school - Geneva’s words from the diary, not mine, so I will act the part. F*uck the stupid butterflies in my stomach.

Pursing my lips, I hurry ahead, my heels clicking angrily on the pavement beneath my feet. I have to push away a few people to get to the centre of the events and face the bullying that is happening there. I ignore my sweating palms and the loud beating of my heart as I climb the stairs. I refuse to admit there is something there, someone, who makes the blood race in my veins. I can almost hear a voice I never expected to awaken inside me, drawing all my thoughts forward.

Only the days of practicing my expressions in front of the mirror help me to look like the epitome of righteous rage and privilege. My head is raised high, as it suits the sister of the Lycan’s alpha, even though none of the people surrounding me is supposed to know about this part of my life. Not that it matters as it seems I don’t have a wolf, and my power lies somewhere else entirely.

Forcing away the stupid useless thoughts, and the inexplicable pull and excitement, I finally reach the foundation of the stairs. The wind rushes through my perfect blond curls, cooling my temper as I press my lips together, amused by the fact that finally the crowd is quieted. That now I am the one controlling it and all it took was me, Geneva, to be there.

My eyes run through the scene - an emo kid who I don’t recall seeing before is on the ground, small rivulets of tears ruin the white cakey make-up that covers his entire face. His books are scattered on the ground next to him, his bag is smashed and muddied a few feet away. A strange guy who looks exactly like trouble looks, smirks at him, a smug expression clouding his eyes.

Something deep inside me snarls in a warning. He is not the source of the scent, but he stands in its way and I feel really pissed at him because of that. The stranger is tall, and there is something in his face that feels familiar. In this familiarity, I feel the pull forward as the butterflies in my stomach churn. Not for him, but for someone who looks a lot like him.

My eyes go past the stranger and land on the guy just behind him. Taller and with a stronger build, Luca f*ucking Moretti smirks in my direction, his light green eyes full of challenge. He is staring at me the same way he did that first evening when he grabbed me in Geneva’s room, the f*ucker, but this time I stare back. Alarming bells raise in my head, as the pull towards him spreads through my entire body, and pure illogical joy makes my heart beat like crazy in my chest. He is the source of that scent that I feel glued to me like a second skin. Cedar and pine. Everything inside me wants to lay in his feet and expose my belly in contempt. I feel a deep carnal desire to let him do to me whatever the hell he wants like I am some kind of a loyal dog, enamored with its master.

I blush like a fool and try to tell myself it is because of the nerves I feel, but as I stand there speechless in front of all of Geneva’s friends, I know it is something far, far worse.

I blink, trying to find a logical reason for the way I feel and act, and focus to get a grip on my nerves before they show on my face, but I feel like I am drowning. I am on the edge of snapping - I got here, I acted the part and everyone saw me. Now what? I have to pretend more, to be better at my role, just being here is not enough.

Trying to regain my positions, I school my expression and look around the people gathered to watch. I am glad my gaze makes them squeak and quickly disperse. Did I really do that? God, I am too good at being the villain. Not only did I cover my sister’s death faking it as my own and took her life, but I pretend to be her to perfection even though I didn’t even know her that well. Perhaps it is true what they say, psychopaths are best at fooling people that they do care.

Without saying a word, my head raised high, I head towards the emo kid and stretch my hand to him. My senses tell me it is not the right direction that I am taking. Everything that I pretend I am screams at me to turn towards Moretti, and give myself to him, but I ignore the useless feeling and focus on the guy on the ground.

As he takes my hand with gratitude, I feel a growl forming within my chest. It’s like something that has been asleep for ages finally stirs awake and strives for control over my actions, and I am helpless to do anything to stop it.

The bullied kid is back on his feet now, and I try to force down the strange sensation, focusing on the present. I do have a faint idea as to what is happening. I just never thought it would be this intense, or unexpected. Or happen in the most unfortunate moment of all. If my wolf, who I somehow convinced myself over the past week that didn’t exist, thinks that I will let her control my life and my body just because she decided to show out of the blue today of all days, then she is really up for a fight. If she feels for some stupid reason attracted to Luca Moretti of all people, fine, that’s her problem.

Marcy Jones and Liam Wentworth rush to gather the emo kid’s stuff with apologetic smiles, but I don’t give them any attention. Geneva despised them even though she hung up with them, so I do the same.

I focus my eyes on the newcomer, Moretti’s buddy, or whatever. He is pretty if it is possible to say it for a guy - broad shoulders, tall, tanned. But there is something about him, something vicious in his expression which makes me take a second look. It’s not just the fact that he looks a few years older that tells me he is not a student here. There is cruelty in his eyes which is hard to be missed, especially when you know such cruelty up close. You have to live with a bully to know one.

Never again, I repeat to myself like a mantra as I gather my mental strength to strike, my eyes narrowing on the guy as I step in front of him. I am good at pushing back. I was a fighter once right before Bart beat it out of me. But as my bully is not here to torment me anymore, my old habits return.

With my peripheral, I notice Moretti tense behind his friend, and I can almost feel his tight grip over his friend’s shoulder. I try not to acknowledge his presence because he means nothing to me. I admit I am surprised, even disappointed in him right now. Or so I try to convince myself, even though he is something dangerous, someone that for some reason my sleeping wolf is attracted to.

Luca Moretti is bad news, yes. I know that better than anyone now that I read my sister’s diary and pried the truth out of my own pack members. He is the son of a vicious werewolf alpha, who runs the local biker club in the southern parts of the town. Their pack is a cruel one, they don’t care about order or traditions, or rules. Werewolves are bad news, to begin with but combine it with their lawless business and their past attempts to challenge my brother for territory and the problems they create with their bikes for everyone in town are just too much. Add the fact that they are not born, but made into shifters, which means they can double their numbers in days if they decide the shifter laws are too much for them, and one can say they are a ticking bomb ready to blow at any minute. That’s what Geneva thought, so that’s what I believe too because I am her.

As far as I am aware, they still haven’t turned Luca. I don’t know the reasons but I don’t care for their customs if they even have any. All I know is they are bad news and, as such - something I should purposely stay away from. I’ve had my fair share of bad news in the past, I don’t need problems.

Still, my heart flips in my chest at the thought of his eyes on me. Of course, it doesn’t have anything to do with his piercing green eyes, or his strong masculine frame, or that his smile can melt Antarctica, and those dimples… Luca Moretti is attractive, alright. As attractive as the flame can be to the desperate moth, I am not a stupid moth, not anymore. What on earth is wrong with me? I should be more cautious than anyone with the people from Geneva’s past at Redwind. I should follow the stuff in her journal to the dots. Then why the hell can’t I look away?

Drawing my brows together and ignoring the forming headache, I finally glare at Moretti.

Up until this moment, he stood quiet and just traced my every movement. Now he raises his brows at me in a challenge and seems a bit surprised that I am actually looking at him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I raise my voice once most of the gathered people are gone. I am not pretending that I am disgusted with what happened, I really am. I hate it when people are being picked on just because they are different or weaker than their tormentor.

Moretti doesn’t say a word, he just glares back, his gaze unreadable, and for some reason this makes my heart sink, sudden sadness rushing through me. I know it is not mine though, this feeling that tries to overflow me. It belongs to my silent wolf, and I ignore her whining from within. I will deal with her later. Look at me becoming an expert at wolf shifter’s feelings and all. Not.

Desperate to find something to do, somewhere else to focus on, I look at his friend.

“I don’t care who you are, but you are going to respect the people here or take the consequences,” I spit, my words full of venom. As I say them even I don’t believe them.

The guy only looks back at me, pure menace seeping from him as he steps toward me in an attempt to intimidate me. His lips are curled almost to a snarl, and I can feel the feral threat in his dark gaze. A sting of fear rushes through my veins, but I ignore it and return the stare, my heels digging in the ground beneath my feet. I can’t back down anymore. If he doesn’t like it, he is more than welcome to get the f*uck out of here.

“Chill, man, that’s just princes f*ucking Geneva playing royal. It’s nothing.” Moretti steps up suddenly, his bright eyes piercing mine as he pulls his buddy back. Suddenly, he dominates the entire scene, and he is all I can focus on. Gritting my teeth, I tell myself to ignore it.

Just when I decide it is the end of our interaction, he huffs superior laughter and I can feel those light green eyes roaming all over my body. “Just ignore her, she’s not worth it,” he adds finally, and the casual way he says it makes the blood boil in my veins.

The growl I feel from within is overwhelming. It clashes with the rage and humiliation that the logical part of my brain tells me I should be feeling right now.

My entire being trembles, and there is no way to ignore it this time - it is an accusation, hope, and… desire for Moretti, so strong that it is beyond anything I have ever felt. Even the way he spoke about me can’t change that. All those feelings go on an entirely deeper, primal level, and it scares the s*hit out of me as I finally realize what is wrong here. What the scent means, why my heart raced like crazy the moment I reached Moretti, why my wolf chose to wake up now after all those years in which I believed she didn’t exist.

Because the moment I am about to actually slap him, my wolf is finally fully awake and shouts in my head. She says only two words, but they change everything. Our mate.