2: Mate

ARCHIE

Isidore Mortain.

He stepped out of the car with an effortless grace.

And then his younger sister, Sonnet Mortain.

Isidore wore a black suit that fit his slender frame. His honey-brown hair was swept away from his forehead, revealing the sharp yet soft lines of his face, and a silver chain lay against his white shirt.

He looked elegant.

Infuriatingly beautiful.

He was completely aware that everyone was staring at him.

His gaze swept across the crowd and landed on me.

His expression barely changed. He just cocked an eyebrow, and I hated him more.

I watched as my father walked towards him and his family with a neutral expression.

“Try not to embarrass yourself,” Conrad muttered behind me.

I scoffed. “I'm the birthday boy. I can embarrass myself whenever I want.”

“Just don't start a fight,” Conrad said.

“Why would I start a fight?” I feigned annoyance.

“Boys, don't argue,” Talia chipped in.

“But I didn't—” I started, glaring at Conrad, who matched my stare.

“No,” Talia hushed.

“That was rude.” I punched Conrad's shoulder, and he stumbled back, laughing.

I took a deep breath.

Tonight is about me, and I won't let one insufferable vampire ruin it.

I could be mature.

I could be polite.

And I could pretend that Isidore Mortain is just a random stranger I don't know and that he doesn't irritate me.

It's easy.

Completely easy.

I crossed the garden as Isidore finished greeting my father.

His gaze shifted to me. “Archie.”

“Hello, Issy.”

Isidore glanced down at my suit. “Interesting choice.”

“What?”

“The suit. I wasn't aware your family was accepting donations,” he said, his tone flat as usual.

“And I didn't realize the Sanguine Clan had started letting their members outside without supervision.” I smirked.

His lips curled slightly. “Careful, Decatur. Someone might actually think that's intelligence.”

“Someone might mistake your face for a funeral invitation.”

Isidore gave me the once-over. “Happy birthday.”

“Don't sound so disappointed. You’ll survive another year of my existence.” I grinned.

“Unfortunately, that's what scares me.” He didn't miss a beat.

I leaned closer, my gaze lowering to his dark ones.

“For someone who dislikes werewolves, you spend a noticeable amount of time talking to one.”

“For someone who claims to be a future alpha, you act like an untrained dog,” he spat out, not missing a beat.

I stepped away. “There he is.”

“Who?”

“The little arrogant bloodsucker I know and despise.”

Isidore scoffed. “Believe me, the feeling is mutual.”

“Good. I’d hate to think I was the only one suffering.”

“On that, at least, we can agree.” He turned away and began to walk away.

I watched him walk towards the refreshments, my eyes drifting to his parents, who were already watching me.

My eyes landed on their son. God, I wanted to throw something at his head.

Preferably something expensive so that his father could explain it to the council, but instead, I grabbed a drink from a passing waiter.

I was going to enjoy my birthday. I’d dance, flirt, drink, and ignore Isidore Mortain for the rest of the evening.

That was the plan.

Unfortunately, the universe had apparently decided that I hadn't suffered enough.

Because exactly thirty minutes later, Isidore was standing on the other side of the dance floor, speaking to his fellow vampires.

And I couldn't stop looking at him.

It wasn't because he was attractive.

Sure, he is attractive. I have eyes.

It was something else, a restless feeling that settled beneath my ribs.

My wolf had been unusually quiet all night, which was not entirely surprising because he gets restless in large gatherings, especially when unfamiliar wolves are around.

But he was paying attention, and I was paying attention.

Not to the music.

Not to the food or the people around us.

He was paying attention to Isidore.

I frowned.

I forced myself to look away and took a long sip from my drink.

Maybe I was too tired.

Maybe the suit was too tight.

Maybe I needed to stop letting a certain pale-faced vampire ruin my life.

My eyes found their way to him again.

“You're staring too hard,” I heard a familiar female voice.

I turned.

Sonnet Mortain was standing behind me, Isidore’s younger sister. They're Irish twins, by the way, born a few months apart.

“I wasn't,” I denied.

Sonnet hummed, her dark eyes remaining on me. “You know I won't tell anyone if you have a crush on my brother.”

“I don't—”

“Shhh.” She placed a finger against my lips, a smile tugging at her lips. “I won't tell him either.”

“Whatever is going on in that brain of yours is wrong,” I told her, turning away from her.

Did I say I hate both siblings?

When the older one made no effort to annoy me but still irritated me effortlessly, the younger one made my business hers to mind.

They both piss me off.

“Look at you,” Sonnet smirked. “All tensed up. Happy birthday, by the way.” She chuckled as she snatched my cup from me.

“Hey, hey, you can't do that!” I told her, trying to snatch the cup from her, but Sonnet was fast.

She has always been fast.

“I would be eighteen too in a few months, so chill, big bad wolf,” she said as she walked away.

I let out a sigh.

Then I heard Isidore laugh.

My body stiffened.

It was a small sound, almost swallowed by the music.

I had heard him laugh before, obviously.

Usually at my expense.

But this time, he was speaking to someone else, his head tilted slightly as a smile spread across his lips.

Something inside my chest twisted. Subconsciously, my hand formed a fist.

My wolf stirred.

‘Mine.’

I froze.

The word wasn't mine. It came from deep in my soul, the part of me that's a wolf.

I stared at Isidore.

What do you say? I asked my wolf.

He pushed against my consciousness and repeated the same word.

‘Mine.’

Cold ran down my spine.

“No. No f**king way.”

Absolutely not.

I had spent eighteen years waiting for the day my wolf would recognize my mate.

I had imagined someone beautiful, kind, and someone who would understand me without making me want to slam my face into the wall.

Someone who smiled at me.

Someone who wouldn't insult my intelligence each time I opened my mouth.

Someone who wasn't a f**king vampire.

No. No.

‘Mate.’

My wolf growled.

I turned away and shut my eyes.

This had to be a mistake.

An hallucination.

A prank played on me by the Moon Goddess.

Maybe I had eaten something poisonous? I would have to find Talia.

Or maybe Conrad had successfully killed me with one of his experiments.

Anything was possible.

Anything except Isidore f**king Mortain.

When I turned again, Isidore was looking directly at me.

His smile had disappeared.

For the first time since arriving at my birthday party, he looked unsettled.

His fingers tightened around his glass, his face had gone even paler, as if he had seen a ghost.

Then his gaze dropped to my chest.

I followed his gaze.

Nothing had changed. I was still in my suit.

Still at my birthday party.

Beneath my ribs, my wolf paced restlessly.

‘Mate.’ ‘Mate.’ ‘Mate.’

Across the room, Isidore took a step backward. His eyes widened.

He knows. I don't know how, but he knows.

F**k!

The noise at the party seemed to fade.

The people disappeared, and the music seemed distant now.

I stared back at him.

The boy I had hated all my life.

“No, this has to be a joke.”

My wolf pressed against my consciousness again.

‘Our mate.’

My heart dropped into my stomach.

And across the room, Isidore said two words.

I couldn't hear him, but I could read his lips.

No. Impossible.

For the first time in my life, Isidore looked as terrified as I felt.

Because fate has a sick sense of humor.

And apparently, my birthday present was the person I can't stand in Grimwood.

My mate.