Chapter 1- The Scent of Fate

Nathan POV

​The heavy door of my Maybach thuds shut, a final note of sanctuary before the chaos of the university campus takes over. On the surface, it’s just another weekday—dull sunlight hitting brick—but the air itself feels charged, like the static before a lightning strike. My skin prickles; my body is alerting me to a shift in the atmosphere before my mind can even process it.

Hundreds of scents hit my senses all at once but my senses are a storm I learned to weather years ago—a necessity of running both a pack and an empire. So the amount of senses here do not bother me at all. 

I continue to look around at the scene in front of me, expecting more of the scents of stale coffee and human anxiety but instead I hit a wall of pure, intoxicating sweetness, 

The scent that hits me is honey and rain drenched cedar, underpinned by a slight scent of iron. Blood. My wolf growls, followed by the word that I have been waiting to hear all of my life. Mate.

I turn my head sharply, tracking the scent back to its owner and my mate. My breath catches in my throat at the sight in front of me, The scent is coming from a girl standing near the fountain at the entrance to the university, 

She is looking down at her phone and smiling so wide and radiant it feels like a physical warmth is hitting me. In a life that is lived and defined by shadows and blood, that smile is like a blinding sun to me. And instantly became something that I am wanting to protect with everything I have. I am the darkness in the world, and my mate is the light. We will balance each other perfectly.

Mate is human. My wolf says, tilting his head to the side and taking a sniff.

So? I ask him.  Is that a problem?

He shakes his head. Not at all, means that the job is on you, you need to court her and make her ours. Good luck. My wolf says, smirking.

I internally groan. Despite my looks and power, I have no experience with the opposite sex and even less with romance and courting. This is going to be painful. Worth it, but painful. I groan as my wolf chuckles. 

​“This way, sir,” Marcus, my lead guard and Beta, murmured. His voice was low, laced with the subtle warning only another shifter could convey. He had noticed my pupils blowing wide—the way my body had locked onto the girl like a predator marking prey.

​“The Dean is waiting. Keep the mask on,” he said, tugging at my arm to pull me back to the present.

I force myself to blink, tearing my gaze from the goddess by the fountain. My mate. I nod curtly to Marcus and my jaw tightens as I turn towards the Dean's office, but every nerve ending is screaming at me to remain tethered to the girl. There is a nagging sense of familiarity about her, a soul-deep pull that feels more than just the mate bond, almost as if we have met once before. But I cannot place the reason for the feeling, or if we have actually met before.

I shake my head to clear the static, I cannot be the love smitten mate but the ‘Titan’ of the business world. I have to play the visionary philanthropist, even if my wolf was pacing in circles, demanding that we turn back and claim what is ours.

“Mr. Ether! What an absolute honor to have you here!” The dean exclaims as he meets us at the door, his hand outstretched. He is a man who smells of old paper and desperation. He pumps my hand, his grip lingering too long, and I want to rip his hand off mine. 

“I am happy to be here and to use my experience to inspire the younger generation.” I reply, my voice a smooth, dangerous baritone. I offer a tight, professional smile as I pointedly reclaim my hand as my physical presence fills the hallway until the Dean looks visibly smaller and takes a step back,

“You say that like you’re an old man! You’re only what? Thirty?” the Dean booms with a nervous laugh.

“Thirty-two,” I reply curtly. I do not have time for this small talk; I just want to find my mate again as her scent is fading as we move deeper into the campus and  the loss of it is making me feel miserable.

We walk through the corridors towards the new high-tech lecture hall. To the Dean, this is a crowning achievement of glass and steel, but to me it is just a sterile box with no emotions or character. I step inside the hall and watch as the students fill the seats.

While Marcus sets everything up, my eyes scan every face that enters the room, every row, every seat, searching and hoping for the sight of my mate.

My wolf is sulking at not being able to even speak to our mate before we had to leave her.

“Mr Ether?” A woman's voice cuts through my consciousness and brings my mind back to the present. Her scent is one of professionalism and calmness. “I am Ms. Treas. The students are incredibly excited for your chat and to meet you.” 

“The pleasure is mine.” I say, though my heart is not in the lie. I begin lying out my notes, my movements precise and mechanical, until a sound from the hallway spikes my adrenaline and puts my wolf on edge. 

The sound of a scuffle hits my ears, followed by the sound of a body hitting a locker. To the humans, the sound was muffled and barely audible. But to me, I can clearly make out the scuffle sound as if I am part of it,

Normally the sound would not bother me, but the fact that the breathing of one of the people involved is similar to the breathing as my mate has my wolf and I intrigued. 

“Sod off!” A female voice shouts. It is her, the honey-and-cedar girl.

My mate.

“Make me.” A male voice sneered.

“Anytime, anywhere, jerk face!” her reply brings a smile to my face.

Mate is feisty. My wolf smirks.

The door to the lecture hall slams open. The girl stumbles in and my breath hitches in my throat, anger filling every fibre of my being and my wolf starts to shake and growl in fury.

The radiant, warm smile we had seen by the fountain is gone. In its place is a split lip; a bead of crimson blood blooming against her pale face. The metallic tang of her blood hits my nose, and for a split second my vision goes red.

My wolf lets out a deafening roar, repeating three words over and over: protect. Kill. Claim.

I signal to Marcus with a sharp, imperceptible tilt of my head. Marcus steps forward immediately, his own expression darkening as he scents the air, 

“Find out who she is,” I growl, the sound vibrating in my chest, too low for the humans to hear. “And find out exactly who put their hands on her.”

“Yes, Alpha.” Marcus whispers, vanishing out the door within seconds.

I watch as my mate scurries to the back corner of the room. She pulls her hoodie up and tries to shrink into the shadows. She looks like a wounded animal trying to hide in the thicket, which only makes her resilience more intoxicating, fueling the fire in my blood.

For a fleeting second, her eyes meet mine. Curiosity and a flash of pure, instinctual excitement lights up her face before she looks back down, burying herself in her notebook. 

The lecture is a blur. I speak with practised ease, my human, billionaire persona holding steady while my soul is at the back of the room, hovering over my mate. I watch the frantic velocity of her pen as she takes notes, her knuckles white. She looks and smells terrified, yet she is here, fighting for her education. 

When the talk finally concludes after what feels like an eternity, my mate does not wait, much to our disappointment. She bolts out of the room, her scent trailing behind her like a heartbreaking melody. 

I want to leap over the podium and catch her, to wipe the blood from her lip with my thumb, pull her into a hug, mold her body to mine and tell her that she is safe, but I hold myself back. 

Once the room has cleared, Marcus enters. The air around him is cold and I can tell that he is holding back anger.

“Her name is Santa Wing.” Marcus reports. “Two students cornered her. A group here treats her like sport. The university ignores it because the boys come from wealthy families while Santa is alone.” 

My hand tightens on the edge of the mahogany podium until the wood groans and splinters under my palm. “They hit her?” I growl.

“A punch to the face. A kick to the stomach as well from before the lecture too.  That is why she was hunched over.” Marcus says, sorrow coating his voice but there is also an edge of fury. He is clearly feeling anger for his future Luna's condition. 

My eyes darken until the pupils nearly swallow the iris. “The Dean is as blind as he is dimwitted. Ensure the board receives the evidence of his negligence by midnight. I want his career in ashes.” I order. 

As we reach the car, my anger is a physical heat radiating off my skin. Marcus hands me a think folder which he has just received.

“Her history sir. It's… thin.”

I open it. There are no childhood photos, no school records. Nothing. “How accurate is this?” I ask as I climb into the back of my car. 

“Very sir. Please, be careful.” Marcus says, looking at me int he rearview mirror as we pull away. “She is a damaged soul. She looks like she will break easily in a world as violent as ours.” 

I stare at the photo of Santa that is clipped to the file. It is a candid shot of her smiling- the same light that I saw earlier. I trace the curve of her cheek in the image. 

“Maybe I do not want to break her,” I reply, my voice low with a possessive rumbles that vibrates through the leather interior. “Maybe I want to be the one who breaks everyone who ever looked at her wrong or hurt her. Maybe I want to be the light in her darkness.”

“I think we are missing something, sir.” Marcus adds. “No records of her exist from before a year ago. She is a ghost.” 

“No she is not. She is running from something or someone.” I say, my thoughts taking over.

“What makes you think that?”

“Because, I have met her somewhere before. Or rather, I have saved her before.”

I’ve finally found you, I think to myself. And I am never letting you go.