Chapter 2 | Scent of the Mate

~Dominic~

It's the same smell again! That faint intoxicating mix of sandalwood and wildflowers — sweet and lovely, so addictive. It reminds me of Spring, the eternal kind, and the feeling of being close to the woods, mud, and nature.

Trapped in the palace with duties and responsibilities, I yearned to be set free... to run in the woods and feel the wind in my hair. 

For the past two years, I caught a whiff of this irresistible scent now and then in the palace. At first, I thought it was coming from that snooty princess, and I ignored it because I didn't want anything to do with her.

But then, the subtle sandalwood wafted out of the kitchen once, suppressed by the aroma of freshly baked garlic bread and herbs--- I was pulled out of my thoughts when I got a sharp blow to my temple.

I returned my attention to the man who hit me, a pentathlon champion. All it took me was a few seconds to knock him out of his senses. I heard the fight organizers and spectators bellow alike while I waited for the next opponent to enter the pit and start the second bout.

For the common man, the struggle as a pit fighter was to put on his best performance, sometimes pushing himself to extreme limits in order to win.

My struggle is the opposite; I have to restrain my speed and strength to act normal. It became easier to tame my inner beast over the past few years and at least people believe what they see now.

"Come on Nic!!"

"Go, Dominic!"

"You show them Dom...!

I heard my fans roar. Amidst this chaos with hundreds of people and dust flying all around, I was almost twenty miles away from the palace. And yet, that familiar fragrance of wildflowers was teasing my senses. Power coursed through me as I caught a whiff.

The next fighter, Philip, sprang towards me. He was a huge man who trained rigorously and ate tens of pounds of meat to stay strong. He had the habit of running on the training grounds carrying baby bulls for both strength and cardio. He was notorious for breaking the opponents' fingers and toes and compelling them to submit.

After several failed attempts at punching and elbow strikes, Philip managed to jump on my back and apply a chokehold. His arms encircled my neck and hands clasped together. This was a deadly move and I was forced to give a taste of his own technique; I twisted one of his fingers and caused us to land on the ground. I fell on top of him and dislocated his ankle, forcing him to cry submit. 

Next came the pankration champion, Cole. His fans worshipped him almost to the level of a demi-god status. I made a shallow sprawl to dodge his tackle attempt and secured a waist lock from the back. I then heaved his legs into the air and dropped him headfirst to the ground. I finished him in no time, and he had 'no fight left in him' by the time I was done with him.

"Woot, woot!!" Dylan rushed to celebrate as I collected a dozen bags of drachma. I was careful not to touch these coins with my fingers because silver had burned my skin before.

"Fuck yeah, baby!" Dylan caught the last two bags, "Well done, Nic. Let me take care of the rest of the motherfuckers." 

"Go get 'em fighter!"

Dylan was a brother from another mother. We were so similar. We both shared the same dirty secret... the secret to winning all the fights and taking everyone's money. We weren't normal and believed that there was an inner beast within us.

We both were fast, not your typical fast but so ultra-fast that we couldn't be seen at all when we go for a run in the woods. We shared a special connection as if our minds were linked and thoughts were all synched without using words.

My mother said she found him abandoned in a seized village when I was a month's baby. But considering how alike we were, so tall at only seventeen and stronger than anyone we had encountered so far, I believe that our bond was special.

We both get these hot flushes with a rush of blood and rage. They have become more frequent for us this year. I think all my senses have heightened over these past few years as well.

The crowds were dispersing in a frenzy once the fights ended and we collected more bags of silver. A wild storm was going to hit the town later tonight, and the wind was already picking up as the sun went down.

The sweet scent filled my nostrils as someone passed inches away from me and disappeared into the swarms. I quickly followed, pushing my way through, and caught hold of someone's wrist.

She was startled and jumped in her place after facing me, with her large brown eyes widening even more. The wind was playing with her hair, and those beautiful wavy locks that reached the crook of her back fluttered against her half-hidden face, covering it even more.

She was fiddling a bit too much under my stare. I reached out to uncover her face but she moved away and looked over her back.

"Callie!" 

She looked back at me in a panic and yelled Callie again, trying hard to free her wrist.

"Calliope!!"

"Marlo, please!"

A man with a dark, clear-cut face and shiny black hair appeared from out of the crowd and placed his hand over her shoulder before locking eyes with me.

"Marlo" She whispered.

Her palm that was holding my wrist in an effort to free her other hand had turned sweaty. I released her hand from my grip and stared at the man, wondering who the fuck he was.

"Let's go?" He asked her.

She gave me a longing look that got my heart racing. She turned and walked away while I was left awestruck.