Chapter 4 | Mates

Jace W.

-*-

My gaze locks onto the unconscious girl, my vision flickering with creeping shadows. A strange warmth blooms in my chest—foreign yet undeniably real—a sensation that both bewilders and unsettles me.

Have I gone mad...?

A voice reaches me, distant and muffled, like sound trapped underwater. I drag my eyes away from the girl, shifting to the blurred face hovering before me. His mouth moves, forming words I can neither hear nor decipher. My breath catches, my pulse hammering in my ears as a single word rises, unbidden, to the tip of my tongue.

Mate.

I swallow hard. No. That can't be right. I must be mistaken. My mind races, grasping for clarity, for reason—anything to refute what I already know deep in my bones. I replay the last few seconds, the moment our eyes met, the jolt of recognition I felt deep in my soul. A connection. A bond.

Fuck. It is her.

My head snaps toward Cade, desperate for anything—denial, mockery, an alternative truth. But his expression remains unreadable, a flicker of something flashing through his icy blue eyes as they dart between me and the girl.

Then, finally, his voice cuts through the haze, slipping into my mind through the Link—sharp, intrusive, inescapable.

She's your mate...?

The words hit like a jolt to the system, a wake-up call that yanks me back to reality—or whatever twisted version of reality this is.

And just like that, the beast inside me awakens.

My wolf, long dormant, stirs violently, clawing, howling, roaring in my chest.

Mate! Mate! Mate!

Nausea churns violently in my gut, making my vision swim as I stagger. My breath comes out in ragged gasps, barely holding onto control.

"Take her to the infirmary." The command leaves my lips, hoarse and breathless. A ripple of murmurs spreads through the crowd, voices rising like a swarm of buzzing flies. My patience snaps. "There will be no ceremony!" A fresh wave of nausea grips me mid-sentence, cutting the words off in my throat. I grit my teeth, swallowing the bile threatening to rise. "Everyone—go home."

I don't wait to see if they obey. I pivot sharply, heading for the mansion. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out everything—until a voice slithers through the noise.

"Isn't she the Omega...? Pfft, what a loser."

My body halts mid-step, tension snapping through me like a whip. The heat of rage simmers just beneath my skin, fur prickling at the back of my neck. My nails ache as they lengthen into claws, an instinctive response to the insult—urging me to shred the little bitch's throat right then and there.

Instead, I turn. Slowly. Forest-green eyes lock onto her, unblinking, seething.

"If you have something to say," my voice is low, venom-laced, "say it to my face, girl."

She shrinks under my glare, shame coloring her features as she bows her head. "Pardon me..."

Coward.

A suffocating silence blankets the crowd, their judgmental stares burning into my skin. I can hear their breaths, quick and shallow, but what I hear louder is the whisper of my own demons.

They doubt you.

They think you're weak. Useless. Pathetic.

Fools. The lot of them.

Jaw clenched, I storm into the mansion, slamming the oak doors behind me with enough force to shake the frame. The moment they close, I brace against the wood, my forehead pressing into it as a cold sweat trickles down my spine.

Something is wrong.

My body is burning and freezing at once. Sweat drips down my neck, soaking my back, leaving me clammy. My breaths come in shallow, uneven gasps. Why can't I breathe?

Then—another sharp lurch of nausea.

I bolt. Taking the stairs two at a time, I tear through the hallway and into the bathroom, nearly ripping the door off its hinges.

I barely make it to the sink before my stomach revolts.

A violent gag wracks through me, my body convulsing as I empty what little is left inside me into the porcelain basin. The acidic burn of bile coats my throat, my vision blurring as black spots dance at the edges.

What's happening to me?

Another retch. Another wave of sickness.

I gasp, spitting the last remnants from my mouth, gripping the edges of the sink with white-knuckled force. My knees threaten to buckle. My skin feels too tight, my blood thrumming with something foreign—something I can't explain.

The heat grows unbearable.

Growling under my breath, I yank off my vest and blouse, throwing them to the floor. The cool air kisses my sweat-drenched skin, but it does little to ease the fever raging beneath.

Then—faint, raspy, unmistakable—a voice croaks down the hall.

The sound barely registers, but instinct tells me exactly who it belongs to.

And right now, I need answers.

I need them now. I bolt towards the Pack Healer's voice.

ChatGPT said:

"Cade! Hand me the IV."

Kyra's voice cuts through the hall, urgent and commanding. I strain my ears, barely registering her words—until a familiar warmth tugs at my chest.

My wolf stirs, then howls, a deafening roar in my mind.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

A violent rage surges through me, primal and uncontrollable. Without thinking, I storm out of the bathroom, my steps thundering down the hallway. The scent of antiseptic floods my senses as I shove the infirmary doors open—but none of it matters.

Because the bond is strongest here.

I stop dead in the doorway.

There she is.

Laid out on the bed, chest rising and falling in steady, delicate breaths. Her saffron dress has been replaced with a simple white wife beater and dark drawstring pants—and yet, she still manages to catch my eye.

My wolf whines at the sight of her pale state, flooding my mind with worry. Protect her. Keep her safe.

Focus.

I grit my teeth, forcing the mutt down, and step into the room.

"Kyra. Cade. What's going on here?"

I keep my tone even, but I can feel the underlying tension.

"She lost consciousness, but she'll recover." Cade's voice holds a slight hesitation. His eyes refuse to meet mine. "She seemed to suffer from dehydration."

I let out a low growl. "Hm. Let me know when she wakes up." I turn to leave, eager to escape this suffocating moment.

But Kyra's voice halts me in my tracks.

"Jace Weston, you are not leaving so soon!" My heart slams against my ribs. "What about your mate?"

She emphasizes the word like a dagger twisting in my gut. I feel Cade's gaze burn into my back.

"By Selene... It is true! You've found your mate?!"

His excitemenT churns my stomach. My mind flashes back to the murmurs from the crowd, to the words that made my blood boil.

"Isn't she the Omega?"

Nausea churns inside me, tangling with my growing rage.

I whip my head toward Cade, my glare sharp enough to cut through steel. "Cade. Who is this girl?"

It's Kyra who answers.

"Ava Rose. Eighteen. Pack Omega."

The words hit like a sledgehammer.

Omega. The fucking Omega.

My heartbeat quickens, pulse hammering in my ears. I, Jace Weston, am mated to a goddess-damned Omega? Has Selene no mercy? Is this punishment for my family's sins? Some twisted joke at my expense?

No. No, no, no.

This can't happen. This won't happen.

I turn to Cade, my voice sharp, unyielding. "Reschedule the ceremony for next week."

His brows knit together in confusion. "I don't understand... Isn't she your—"

"She is not my mate!" The words tear from my throat, raw and thunderous, shaking the very air between us. My own fury catches me off guard, but I don't waver. My tone drops to something far more lethal, a quiet, simmering rage. "She is not my mate. This girl merely passed out from heat exhaustion, nothing more. And once she wakes up, she will be on her merry little way while I, as is custom in my family, will be bestowed a Luna by next week. Understood?"

Cade's jaw tightens. He nods, though hesitation flickers in his eyes—a silent battle he refuses to voice.

Kyra, however, does not relent. "Jace Weston, you have lost your damn mind," she hisses. "Have you no honor? To spit on the will of the Goddess—!"

I sneer, cold and merciless. "I lost my honor the moment that thing bonded to me."

And with that, I turn on my heel, slamming the door shut behind me. me.

-*-

I stare at the wooden floor of my room, my body heavy with exhaustion. The sickness that had plagued me hours ago has long since faded, yet I can't bring myself to move. The day's events cling to me like a curse, replaying in my mind over and over again. My legs tremble with nervous spasms—an old habit I thought I'd long outgrown.

Turning toward the window near my bed, I take in the remnants of the crowd that had gathered earlier. Though they've dispersed, their presence still lingers—ripped flowers and discarded gifts litter the concrete, while a few lingering females loiter at the entrance, whispering among themselves.

My nails dig into my palms, sharp enough to draw blood. Watching them smile, seeing them happy, twists something deep in my gut. A feeling I can't name, but one that fuels the fire coursing through my veins. The irrational urge to put them in their place claws at me, tightening around my chest like a vice. My breath stutters as a sharp pain flares in my hands. When I glance down, my stomach clenches at the sight—claws, black and unforgiving, pierce into my own flesh.

A knock at my door snaps me from my thoughts. I grit my teeth, forcing my claws to retract as I hastily wipe away the blood staining my skin. Composing myself, I stand just as the door creaks open.

Angel stands in the doorway, her expression unreadable. "Sir...? The girl's awake."

I go rigid, my body locking into place. The mutt inside me howls in excitement, its emotions bleeding into my own, wild and uncontrollable. I shove it down, my jaw tightening as anger surges through me.

This girl is turning my wolf into a goddamn lapdog.

I snarl under my breath, shoving past the raven-haired Gamma with a single thought burning in my mind.

It's time to put this Omega back in her place.