003. Rejecting the Top Boys

~Bethany~

A good-looking but impatient boy grabs me by the arm before I can protest and drags me away from the entrance of the Alpha Hall, down a straight corridor, his friends and an upset Zuri following behind.

We come to a deserted space, and he finally releases his hold on my arm.

My palm is already halfway to his cheeks before I remember that I'm supposed to be a naive wallflower.

So, I carefully retract it, folding both arms on my bosom instead, to stop myself from ruining my act.

"Who are you?" Another boy with wind-blown sandy blond hair asks me.

"I don't understand. You forcefully drag me out here, and instead of explaining your action, you're asking questions?" I query him.

"And she will not answer your questions. Just so you know, I'm going to protect her from every single one of you." Zuri fumes at them, stepping in front of me and shielding me with her body.

gods, the words Zuri said almost made me like her way too much, more than I already do.

Nobody has ever defended me. Even if she really can't do much, the intention is all that matters to me.

Tilting a bit closer to me, Zuri whispers to my hearing alone, "They are the four princes from the founding families."

That makes me frown. What the hell would they want from me? It's not like I have them on my radar or I even give two fucks about them.

Founding families or not, they are not why I came to Crestbane.

Sweeping his head to the side, a third one among the princes, with an irregularly trimmed brown hair, flashes a smile at me, and it makes me cringe internally.

"Olyon Wrath." The boy says.

Then he points to the sandy blond-haired boy, "This is Jayan Salazar. And that..." He points to the one that grabbed my arm earlier. "...is Asad Mort and finally... Mosley Froskarn." He points to the quiet one among them, with loud silvery-white hair. "And you are?"

"Nobody." I bark, taking hold of my amiable she-warrior, Zuri's arm. "Let's go, Zuu."

Even with the awkwardness we find ourselves in, Zuri has the nerve to giggle sweetly at the name I called her. I roll my eyes, wondering why she's still sweet in chaos.

I was still trying to hook my fingers perfectly on Zuri's arm when my body suddenly stumbled on a cold brick. I spin around to see an icy wall blocking us from leaving the room.

Turning to the princes, I frown. "What's the meaning of this? Let us through, right now."

Mosley Froskarn, the one with silver hair, shakes his head. "She can go," he points to Zuri. "But not you. At least not until we discuss the fact that you're our fated mate."

Alarm bells ring in my head. Zuri's body goes instantly rigid. "I'm your what?"

I search their faces, and my gaze settles on the boy called Asad Mort. He holds my gaze as he pulls his right sleeve hurriedly, revealing his glowing mark. "Our mate." He replies.

The other three did the same, and true to their claim, their marks were glowing. I let out a crazed laugh.

"No, I'm not!"

"Let's see your mark then." Mosley Froskarn, the quiet one, urges me calmly.

I search the archives in my brain for a response to his request. But luckily, my warrior princess steps in with an intervention.

"She... She does not have one," she whispers as if her next words ought to be top-secret. "She's a Prose."

I smile internally. Why didn't I think of this? It's an advantage that my mark is located differently from the other Nobles because I'm nothing like them. Neither am I what Zuri thinks I am. But I guess I'll have to keep that truth to myself forever.

However, the four princes don't seem like they are affected by her explanation. "Let's see." Olyon Wrath insists, standing with legs apart and hands in his pants pocket.

Folding my sleeves up, I show them both arms that are void of any markings.

"Unbelievable," an impatient Asad Mort mutters, combing through his head frustratingly.

I laugh. “Okay, Twilight group edition, you all clearly inhaled too much powder or whatever nonsense floats around here.” I turn to Mosley, the silver-haired ice elemental. "Can you take your ice wall down now?"

Mosley shuts his eyes briefly. When he reopens it, he stares at me as if he's praising my entire being. Then he asks so calmly. “You really don’t feel anything?”

Pissed at myself that my body seemed to be buzzing as a result of his gaze, I answered sharply, arching my brow. “Am I supposed to?”

Because truth be told, I feel nothing. No heat. No pull. No connection like those melodramatic scenes that play out once one finds their mate.

And even though I can't see my mark right now, I'm very certain it is not glowing.

Olyon Wrath crosses his arms. “Don't tell me that you don't feel even a tingle.”

“Oh, wait,” I say, pretending to think. “There was something.”

They all lean forward slightly.

I point to my stomach. "Gas."

Zuri makes a sound halfway between a wheeze and a squeal. She’s enjoying this.

The impatient Asad Mort doesn’t blink. “Something isn't right, my instincts don't lie.” He maintains.

“Maybe your instincts are horny.”

Jayan Salazar chuckles, “I like you already.”

I glare at him as Zuri hisses under her breath like she’s watching a live episode of an entertaining reality show. “You guys might want to give my roommate some space. She just got to Crestbane today."

“Come to the Dean's office tomorrow, we'll speak to the Dean about this and hear what he has to say," Olyon Wrath suggests, tugging at his leather jacket.

“I won’t.”

“You’re refusing fate.”

I snort. “No, I’m refusing you. In fact, if any of this shit is real, then I want to reject all of you. You're all better off without me.”

A flicker of something unreadable crosses Mosley’s face, but he steps back, jaw tight.

"No," Jayan Salazar says. "This is our final year in Crestbane. And we've been hoping to meet our mate for years. If you're certain you're not ours, then come to the Dean's office with us tomorrow as Olyon suggested."

I think about it, but I'm very sure my presence at the Dean's office will bring unnecessary attention to me, and that's exactly what I don't need at this point.

"No," I reply.

I didn't survive all these years of torture just to get exposed now.

"Then you're ours." Asad Mort keys in.

"Appeal to the gods for another mate," I tell them in a firm voice. "I'm rejecting all of you."

"Rejecting?" Mosley asks.

"Yes."

"Do you know who we are?" He seems taken aback by my words.

But I don't care. They can be offspring of the Creator of the world if they wish to. Still, I won't get myself entangled with any of them.

"Hang on. Let me get this straight," Jayan Salazar says, sounding shocked. "You're really rejecting us?" 

"Yes. It is best if you appeal for another mate. There’s no point dragging this on. Let me know when you're ready for the rejection rituals. I’ll be on my way. Let’s not cross paths again unless it's for the ritual." I snarl and face Mosley. "Get your ice wall out of my way!"

Surprisingly, the ice wall starts to melt even as Mosley's cold gaze remains on me.

I shouldn't care, but part of me is impressed at how hell bent they are that I belong to them.

Yet it's surprising that I feel nothing. Not even a stir, and that alone feels both right and wrong.

Tugging Zuri along, we leave the space and head back to the Alpha Hall.

"Beth," Zuri whispers. "You just rejected the four founding princes. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Oh, they'll be fine, Zuu. Just give it some days."

She smiles and looks at me. "The princes are every female Noble’s dream. No one has ever said ‘no’ to them. You are the first."

I shrug. "They're better off without me." And I mean those words in a literal sense.