Page 4

Honestly, I don’t even remember how I made it to Mr. Ren Ragu’s company. I think I got there purely on autopilot. My mind was a mess, buzzing with thoughts and emotions like a hive of angry bees. By the time I was in front of the Fate's Choice building, my hope for a phone call from Damien was slowly fading.

According to Ragu, his heat could start very soon. It was hard to believe he hadn’t found someone else to accompany him after my rejection. After all, I’d met him a day later—he’d had time to make arrangements, and now it would be difficult for him to tell the other guy, "No, I’ve changed my mind." Damien’s guarded attitude seemed to suggest that.

I got out of the car and took a deep breath. Well, it was out of my hands now. He had to make the next move—my part was done. He knew where I stood.

The new marital contract auction-and-fair center was… impressive. Way bigger than the one I used to work at. It had been completed after I got kicked out of Fate’s Choice, so I’d never been here before.

Three massive, interconnected halls and a sleek administration building right next to them. Fancy. Mr. Ragu was clearly expanding his empire—probably scrambling to afford the extra expenses, though, especially if there were fines piling up for failed matchmaking deals.

Inside the lobby, a beta I didn’t recognize immediately stood up from behind the reception desk, like he’d been waiting for me. "Mr. Storm Nolan, right? Mr. Ragu is expecting you."

He led me to the administration building, and we took the elevator to the third floor. He knocked lightly on a door, and a muffled voice called out, "Come in."

The office wasn’t what I’d expected. Small. Practical. More like a glorified admin’s cubicle than a CEO’s luxury suite. No leather sofas, no glass coffee tables—just functional. Honestly, I was impressed. Maybe Mr. Ren Ragu was more no-nonsense than I gave him credit for. Or maybe he was just broke and couldn’t afford the more luxurious finishing touches.

The man himself stood as I entered, a big smile plastered across his face. He was a sturdy omega in his fifties, taller than average, with that oily I’ll-sell-you-your-own-soul aura. I’d always pegged him as an unrelenting opportunist. He shook my hand and gestured to a chair.

"So, we meet again," he said with a fake polite expression.

I just nodded, also keeping my face neutral. What was I supposed to say? Thanks for firing me six months ago, you bastard?

"My husband spoke highly of you," he said. "You did well at Dark Dreams. Congrats. It seems wherever you go, you thrive ."

Oh, he could shove that compliment right up his ass.

"So, not to take up too much of your time, I’ll get straight to the point," Ragu continued, all smiles.

"Please do," I replied dryly. "Because this sure is more than just a welcome-back interview."

He laughed—a dark, rumbling sound—and leaned back in his chair. His face flushed red, and for a moment, he looked almost desperate. "Well, let’s just say our last conversation didn’t go as well as either of us would have liked."

"You could put it that way," I muttered sourly.

"But the past is the past, right? Who wants to dwell on it?"

"Yeah, who," I replied flatly. How convenient.

"Well," he said, his grin widening, "we've got new things coming, and we need to tie up some loose ends. We could really use your expertise."

I narrowed my eyes but stayed silent, letting the pause stretch out until he squirmed just a little.

"We double-checked your stats," he continued, "and in the last three months, while working as a client matchmaker, your results have been… impressive. No slip-ups. You were among the top performers in finding high mateship matches in our database."

I kept my expression blank, but inside, I was far from being calm.

"So, you know," Ragu went on, his voice dropping a notch, "we’re exploring advances in DNA research to improve our matchmaking process. We’re about to sign a deal with Blue Lowen, CEO of Malden Pharmaceuticals, for some preliminary testing."

"That’s great. Congrats. So why do you need me?" My tone was almost rude.

He cleared his throat, glancing toward the window like he couldn’t meet my eyes. "Well, these tests are still in the early stages. At best, they can eliminate entirely incompatible matches. Of course, it helps narrow down 70% of the pool, which is great, but it’s not enough for our top-tier clients. That’s where you come in."

I folded my arms. "Yeah, I’ve heard about Malden’s research. They’re still fumbling to figure out what makes the perfect genetic compatibility for True Mates. No breakthroughs yet. Even such a genius like Blue Lowen can’t find a definitive answer."

Ragu's grin widened, but I watched him with a narrowed eye. This was the same man who’d fired me like I was trash—right after my criminal case. No mercy. No listening to my pleas. He didn’t care that I was innocent. And now? He needed me, and for the first time, my past wasn’t a problem.

"But you, Storm," he said, that smug tone back in full force, "you somehow managed to find more high-mate pairings in three months than most employees do in two years. You’ve got a nose for it." He even pointed to his nose like he thought he was clever.

I forced a tight grin. "Some things are just hard to explain."

Ragu studied me for a moment, then tilted his head like he thought I was hiding something. Maybe I was.

"I can see you’re still angry," he said finally.

How perceptive of him, duh!

"I thought we weren’t dwelling on the past," I shot back. "I’m here to listen. That’s all."

"Fair enough." He huffed, his tone shifting to something a bit more serious. "Look, I think you’ve got almost superhuman intuition when it comes to matchmaking. Maybe it’s because you’re a purple. There are so many urban legends about your subspecies’ special skills. Whatever the reason, I’m hoping you can repeat what you’ve done before. We need you to take a look at our unresolved cases. If you help us, we’re ready to reinstate you—not just as a matchmaker, but with a raise."

Wow. So, the cards were finally on the table. And they looked… tempting. I swallowed hard, sizing him up. Was this my chance? Or was I setting myself up for disappointment again?

Mr. Ragu’s face got even more serious. "We’d really appreciate your help, Storm. These customers have been waiting for months, and frankly, we’re looking at penalties of a few million dollars if we don’t find matches soon."

He really looked desperate as he slid a contract across the desk. This was it—not just metaphorical cards on the table, but a literal piece of paper spelling out just how screwed they were without me.

I picked it up and skimmed through it. Standard terms. Non-disclosure agreement. Responsibilities. But the pay? Oh, the pay was good. Damn good. I furrowed my brows, pretending not to care even though I did.

"I’ll sign it," I said finally, trying to sound casual.

But then—of course—the bastard pulled the paper away, and my jaw dropped.

"Not so fast, Storm. This is the deal: if you help us close at least three out of these four cases, you’re in. If you handle all four, I’ll even bump up your pay a little."

Oh no, here we go… it was simply too good to be true. I clenched my jaw, feeling a wave of frustration.

"What the fuck? So for now, I get absolutely nothing? Until I prove myself?"

His face was cold as stone.

"Exactly. Four tough cases, Storm. Then you’re back with us."

The fucker—he almost let me believe it would be that easy. Almost.

"What about my work at Dark Dreams for Mr. Ragu—I mean, for your husband?"

"That’s up to you. If you want some extra cash, you can take his commissions. You’ll handle those at night, and during the day, you’ll work for me."

"That sounds like a lot of work."

Mr. Ragu’s eyes were like steel blades as they bore into mine. "Only if you doubt your abilities, Storm. Do you?"

That was a low blow, and it hit. I winced.

"I’ll be honest with you. There’s someone I… care about, and he wouldn’t be happy if I kept working in… well, the sex industry. I really need this job—any job—to prove to him, I’m moving on from that. I can’t work at Dark Dreams anymore."

Ragu’s expression remained absolutely cold—the same face I remembered so well from the day he fired me. "Don’t push it, Storm. I’m taking a leap here."

Asshole. I crossed my arms over my chest. Maybe they were desperate, but I certainly wasn’t—not that much, anyway. I had a good education. I could search for a new job or find another matchmaking agency.

Narrowing my eyes, I smirked. I could afford to risk a little here, so I decided to go all in.

"I think you need me more than I need you , Mr. Ragu. There are other matchmaking agencies out there. So, I’ll ask again: What can you offer me while I work on these cases? It can even be something temporary. I just don’t want to go back to Dark Dreams." I remembered all too well the prospect of meeting Johansson again. Uhhh!

Ragu was quiet for a moment, our eyes locked. The silence dragged on longer than I was comfortable with.

Finally, he said, "You worked here as a bodyguard during your college years, right? I can offer you that job again, in a limited capacity. Fairs only. It’s not too demanding since the fairs are only every two weeks and last a maximum of three days. Basically, six days of active work plus two extra days for setup and takedown."

"What’s the pay?"

"The same as it was back then, Storm. Don’t push it."

I sighed and nodded. It wasn’t bad. Back then, I’d been working the entire month at their old headquarters in the lobby—not just during the fairs. Now, doing only the fairs seemed pretty generous, all things considered.

But I made sure to keep my expression a bit sour still, like I was doing him a favor.

"Fine. Now, I want to dive into these cases right away. I need more than just a bodyguard gig to get by, though it’s better than nothing."

His face relaxed slightly, the tension easing away. "Well, great! So—"

"Wait, there’s one more thing. My friend might need my assistance… you understand. For a few days, very soon," I said, giving him a meaningful look.

In ABO society, everyone knew what that meant—‘heat assistance.’ No need for further explanation. "So I’d need to work remotely."

He nodded. "Of course, that’s no problem. We can set you up with a company laptop that connects securely to our systems. You can handle the tasks online, go through the client database, and look for matches. You don’t have to be here in person for that."

"It’s still uncertain if he’ll need my assistance, but I’ll know for sure in the next few days."

"Anyway, it's Friday. If nothing clears up over the next two days, you can come in on Monday and report to HR. If you find out your friend really needs help, call this number." He slid a small business card across the desk. "It’s for our desktop support guy. He’ll arrange to get you a company laptop with secure access to the database."

I sighed in relief. I couldn’t let Damien down—I had to keep some window of opportunity open. Even if he already had another guy lined up, I wanted to be ready in case he changed his mind.

"Great, I’m glad we could work this out." I smiled, feeling lighter.

There was hope after all. I wouldn’t have to keep checking the assignment board, stressing over the next gig.

The dreaded Johansson case?

I’d be free of it.

The only one left was with the dog-man, and I could handle that.

As I stood up, I let out a long breath. Phew.

It wasn’t until I was leaving Mr. Ragu’s office that I realized just how much it had stressed me out. It was a weird mix of emotions. If both Ragus knew what my success as a matchmaker was really based on, they’d probably laugh their asses off. But I wasn’t planning to tell anyone—it was way too weird.

Toward the end of my relationship with my ex, I’d gone from being just an assistant to an actual matchmaker.

As things got worse between Tom and me—more strained every week—I buried myself in work. I spent hours searching databases and analyzing personality questionnaires.

But what really worked? Just staring at their photos.

Yes, that simple. When I looked into their eyes, sometimes I'd see a glow and feel the urge to look at another photo. Certain pictures seemed to be connected somehow. Some of them had this colorful hue; grayish for most, but more vivid for some. Shades of blue, green, red—it varied. When I compared two linked photos side by side, the colors would match. The intensity of those colors would differ depending on how compatible the people were.

The first time it happened was after a big fight with Tom. I’d locked myself in another room, scrolling through the database like a zombie. I was supposed to find a match for a picky omega, someone we’d promised a Half Mate at least. The list of candidates was long, and I didn’t even know where to start.

Then one photo caught my eye. I couldn’t look away. And it was weird—he wouldn’t have been my first choice. They seemed like opposites. The omega was a college graduate and a credit specialist at a bank, while this alpha was ten years older and worked as a plumber.

I grimaced, thinking it didn’t make sense. We usually matched people based on education or shared interests.

On a whim, I called the omega and suggested that he go on a blind date. I took a risk, didn’t provide any details about the plumber. Just said, "Trust me, I think you’ll like him." The alpha was attractive, at least, so I hoped that would cover me if anyone questioned my choice later.

To my shock, the omega called me back, ecstatic . The plumber was his High Mate!

Out of over 5,000 candidates, I’d picked his High Mate? Unbelievable.

After that, I started trusting my instincts. I kept looking for those glows, those gut feelings. And my stats improved fast—seven Half Mate pairings and five High Mate in total.

But it didn’t last. Three months later, Tom and I broke up, and Fate’s Choice kicked me out.

Instead of heading home, I went straight to Nathaniel’s place to share the news. I parked in the driveway of his sleek, modern house.

Nathaniel was easy to find—he always worked from home. My brothers, Rain and Skye, were remote employees of his.

When he saw me, he raised an eyebrow and led me into the kitchen. His place was way bigger than mine. He’d inherited a lot of money, though most of it was tied up in a trust fund until he turned twenty-five. But even now, at twenty-three, he was doing well, having poured the insurance payout from the accident into his company. His life was worlds apart from my modest suburban house.

"We’ve reached an agreement! I’m going back to work at Mr. Ren Ragu’s company," I announced as I sat down. Nathaniel handed me a cup of coffee.

"Congrats!" he said with a genuine smile. "I’m happy that you’re leaving that crazy company."

I bit my lip. "Well, it did help with my debts. Technically, I’m still their employee. I’ve got this one regular—the dog-man. I’ll have to finish with him, but after that, I’m free. For now, I’m just a bodyguard there."

Nathaniel giggled. "A bodyguard again? That’s a downgrade."

I waved my hands dismissively. "Relax, it’s temporary! Until I find matches for those clients I told you about."

Nathaniel was quiet for a moment. Then: "Alright, spill. What about Damien? Did you—"

I took a deep breath. "Yeah. I found him."

He studied me. "And?"

"Not much, honestly. I think he was confused—maybe irritated. I told him I could spend his heat with him outside of the company. Gave him my number. But he barely reacted. Honestly, I think he’s already found an alpha and just didn’t want to be rude. It’s been a day since Mr. Ragu told him I wasn’t taking the job, so he’s had time to book someone else."

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. "Are you really going to give up that easily?"

I snorted, irritated. "C’mon, what am I supposed to do? I’ve already been stalking him."

We sat in awkward silence for a bit before I broke it. "I really hope I can get back to being a matchmaker. My magical intuition just… has to kick in again."

Nathaniel gave me a skeptical look but stayed silent, his expression meaningful.

Well, fuck the doubters. Deep down, I knew those five High Mate matches weren’t just chance. Especially considering it had happened twice outside of my matchmaking job!

I’d felt it with Rain’s lover—it was clear as day they were True Mates. And I had the same gut feeling about one of Skye’s college friends. Rain’s case was already confirmed, and Skye’s? That was just a matter of time.

Nathaniel’s skeptical look wasn’t exactly encouraging, but I let it go.

This topic tended to rub everyone the wrong way, even my father. No point dragging it out.

I stood up and stretched. "I’d better let you get back to work. I need to head home and catch some sleep. Got the dog-man gig on Sunday, and in the meantime… I’m just waiting for Damien’s call."

Nathaniel nodded, leaning back in his chair. "I really hope things work out with Damien. I’m rooting for you. I know for purples, finding a perfect mate is rare. If it happens, it’d be nothing short of a miracle."

I chuckled softly. "Thanks."

For a few seconds, I analyzed his face.

It was somewhat sad, his forehead marked by a deep frown.

And then I decided to say it out loud in a light tone.

"Hey, Nate… do you want me to check their updated database for… I don’t know, a match for you? I haven’t been there in six months; maybe they got new people on contracts."

Nathaniel’s expression shifted in an instant. Panic flashed across his face, and he turned sharply, almost as if he didn’t want me to see it.

"Stop, Storm. Don’t even go there."

"Geez, why do you always react like this when I mention it to you? Wouldn’t you want a High Mate for yourself?"

The room fell into heavy silence. Nathaniel stood by the window, staring out at his garden.

His hand instinctively rose to touch his scarred face, a habit of his.

"You wouldn’t understand. I don’t want a High Mate, Storm. I want… True Mate. Only having him would mean I’d be healed."

I had no words for that. I understood him, but still…

"Sitting at home isn’t going to bring you closer to finding him. There are open fairs where you can buy a marriage contract and at least have a partner, somebody to love—"

"Who’d be revolted by me," he interrupted bitterly.

I closed my eyes, sighing. This was always a hard topic. We rarely discussed his scars. They weren’t just on his face; they covered his neck, shoulder, and part of his torso. Nate never wore clothes that revealed his body, so I didn’t even know how bad it looked now, eight years after the accident.

Nathaniel slowly turned to me, his expression painfully sour. "And I don’t have the kind of money to buy a young omega’s contract anyway. My company’s only been around for a few years. For two more years, my trust fund remains inaccessible. I’d need at least half a million for guys over thirty. Omegas in their twenties? Their contracts are worth a million or more."

Unsure of how to respond, I looked down, thinking. "What if you went to the next fair held by Fate’s Choice? Just give it one shot…"

"No. I hate crowded places. People stare."

"You’re limiting your chances."

"Stop, Storm." His tone sharpened. "Let’s not go there again. You know how I feel. I’d rather be alone than with someone who only agreed to a contract for a few years, just for the money, and had to suffer through sex with a disgusting monster."

I winced. That word hit close to home. I had been called that way too often, but with a ‘sexy monster’ edge to it, and Nate? It was a completely different case. He’d even built it into his identity, naming his company MonsterApp.

"That beta you used to hook up with during college. Was he disgusted? I doubt it."

Nathaniel cursed under his breath. I knew he hated this topic and avoided speaking about it.

"He was ugly."

"What?" I blinked, caught off guard.

"You heard me all right. The guy was really unattractive. Our arrangement was like… two miseries coming together, two unhappy guys nobody wanted. We weren’t even a good match personality-wise. It was desperation, plain and simple. We just didn’t want to be virgins, and we didn’t want to pay for sex. So it worked for a while, and then we went our separate ways. It just wasn’t healthy."

"Did he have orgasms?"

"What?!"

"Can you answer?"

"None of your business!"

"Did he, Nate?"

He frowned, then muttered, "He did, but so what?"

"Well, he obviously wasn’t that disgusted, was he?" I emphasized. "You’re being too harsh on yourself. You’re tall—6’8"—a lot of omegas are into that. You’re talented, you have your own company, and it’s making more money every year. You’re still a catch—"

"I see him sometimes," Nate said suddenly, cutting me off.

I froze, confused by his words. "What? Who?"

"My True Mate," he murmured. "I see him in my dreams, Storm. He’s beautiful. Absolutely stunning. Nothing like the beta I told you about. He has long black hair and green eyes, and he’s really short. When I meet him in my dreams, I even talk to him…"

I stared at Nathaniel, unsure if he’d lost it. Being alone for so many years was clearly taking its toll.

"I think he’s married," he continued softly. "He wears a ring. I try so hard to reach him, to make him tell me who he is, but it’s just impossible to get any information out of him. He smiles… and walks away."

Nathaniel’s face had a distant, unfocused look, his one good eye vacant as he gazed past me.

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Right. So. Umm…" How was I supposed to react to something like that?

But then a thought hit me. People thought I was crazy too, with my gut feelings about True Mate pairings. Maybe I wasn’t the best person to judge him? Maybe there was something to it?

"Nate, think about coming to the open fair. Fate’s Choice is having one next weekend. You should be there."

He glanced back out the window. "I promise nothing."

Then he turned back to me. "Anyway, let’s talk about Damien. Are you sure you don’t want to push him a bit? You’re taking a huge risk here. If I were you, I wouldn’t want the omega I’m into spending his heat fucking with another alpha."

I let out a loud exhale, annoyed we were back to this topic. "What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, dump that guy and pick me, even though I turned you down before’?"

Nathaniel snorted. "Why not? Fight for it. Just tell him what you’re thinking!"

I smirked. "Maybe I would, but don’t forget my situation with the company. Ren’s already annoyed I pushed for the bodyguard position. Jun’s furious that I rejected the heat commission. And he’ll be even more enraged when I deny the Johanssons’ gig. If I start pressuring Damien—or worse, stalking him—he might tell them. I have to play it safe and just… hope for the best."

Nathaniel studied me for a moment, his expression softening. "I disagree here. I would fight for it anyway, but it’s your call."

I hesitated. "If he’ll even be able to have sex with another alpha, it means we weren’t True Mates after all, Nate. You know how it works with Trues, after their first sex. So, it’s a test, in a way."

Nate's eyes widened, and he made an appreciative hum.

"Good idea! You're right! I didn’t think about it."

I smirked and crossed my arms over my chest. "Yeah, soon we’ll know."

"Well, good luck, Storm. Just keep your cool, okay? Things have a way of working themselves out."

***

The following day, I spent in great anticipation and tension, with occasional glances at my phone. But it remained silent—no messages.

Despite acting cool about it in front of Nathaniel, I couldn’t say I was totally calm. I hoped for the best but hated the idea of being disappointed, discovering that Damien and I weren’t a thing after all.

So, the entire Saturday was devoted to tidying up the house and the backyard behind it. My mind was filled with various thoughts—sometimes optimistic, but the pessimistic ones were definitely more persistent. Nevertheless, I felt relieved that I was no longer forced to rely on commissions.

In the evening, my excitement and impatience grew. I felt a strange inner need to see Damien; thoughts of our shared night flooded my mind—the sight of his body, the cute sounds he made, how I felt when I touched him, his softness, that ecstasy… It all stubbornly pushed its way into my head, coming back even as I tried to fight it off.

Could this be the famous ‘Pull’? The one that supposedly worked between True Mates from the moment they met, even if they were apart—growing stronger with each passing day? The need and desire to see the other person skyrocketing, becoming almost unbearable.

And although I hadn’t seen Damien for only two days, I already felt considerable anxiety and this overwhelming urge to do something absolutely foolish, like getting in the car and driving to his house.

The next day, Sunday, my need became even more intense. I couldn’t find peace. At times, I caught myself wandering around the backyard, absentmindedly circling the bushes. My mind was completely blank, but my body felt restless, almost trembling.

Damien didn’t call…

In the afternoon, I had to head out for my ‘date’ with the dog-man. I was almost looking forward to it, just to take my mind off Damien.

A surprise awaited me: as soon as I stepped into his entryway, there he was, fully suited up in his dog gear—but standing upright again.

"So, how did it go?" was the first thing he asked.

For a moment, I just stared at his plastic muzzle, at a loss for words. I knew what he was asking about, but it was none of his business. "Why do you even care?"

"Just… curious."

"I can’t share details about what I do with other clients. You wouldn’t want me revealing your private stuff, right?"

"Right, but since you already told me you were unsure whether to take this assignment…"

I rolled my eyes.

"C’mon, I’m not going to spill anything intimate. I can only tell you this: you’re my last client."

A short silence.

"Because of what’s happening with this… guy?"

It hit me then—I was so ready to leave this job behind, all because of the slim hope I had that it might give me a chance to be with Damien. A painful squeeze in my stomach came with the thought that his heat could have already started, and he might be with another alpha… And I was doing it all in vain, rejecting the loads of money I could get from Johansson’s ass. One more gig and my installments gone. Was I delusional?

"Yep," I mumbled. Then, before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "It sounds stupid as hell, but I feel a connection with him. I miss him. But… he’s probably chosen another alpha now. It’s… unfortunate."

Dog-man tilted his oversized, canine-like head, the big brown lenses over his eyes giving him an oddly attentive look. He didn’t comment for a while, just watched me curiously.

"Well, let’s hope for the best," he finally added. "I’m sure he’s conflicted now, promising something to another guy and—" He cut himself off mid-sentence.

It was kinda strange he made such a specific remark about it. Conflicted? How could he extrapolate that from my one-liner about choosing another alpha?

Then suddenly…

…he dropped on all fours, a clear signal he wanted me to start our roleplay.

A weird interruption, but oh well. Maybe he didn’t want to waste any more of his one-hour slot, or he didn’t want to dig into the topic for whatever reason.

Well, I had no interest in discussing it anyway, so off we went, heading out for our usual ‘dog walk’ to the park.

The entire time, I barely interacted with him, too deep in thought. Still, I did everything that was expected of me. The only relief was that there was no last part, the one where he usually humped my leg. For some reason, he just crawled away and headed toward the park exit. I let out a sigh of relief—because that would’ve been even more uncomfortable than usual. Maybe he sensed my mood or something and didn’t push it, for which I was grateful.

When we were back at his house, I said, "Next month, I won’t be accompanying you anymore. I’m leaving this job."

He stood up and replied, "That’s okay. I understand. Thanks for doing it so well for me. I know I’m probably a bit weird, but… I appreciate that you never made me feel like it was… laughable."

"Weird? Nah… No way!" I muttered politely and patted him on the shoulder. Why would I shame the guy for his harmless kink?

He reached out his ‘paw’ for a goodbye, and I awkwardly shook it.

But when I got back home, my negative feelings only intensified. I wandered around the house, doing nothing—restless and upset.

I started to feel more and more certain that Damien had arranged something with another alpha. Or perhaps he’d decided to go to one of those public houses where alphas worked and could be hired for heat periods—no strings attached. He had money; he could do whatever he wanted.

Going to bed that day, I lost hope. Were we True Mates after all?

Maybe Nathaniel was right in the beginning, telling me not to read too much into this.

Or perhaps I should disregard the whole TM thing anyway and just go to Damien—beg him on my knees to spend the heat with me, even if we weren’t a perfect match? After all, I was still strongly attracted to him. Perhaps the fated mates status didn’t matter. Could be, he was my High Mate, and that was good enough?

But in the end, I stayed home. I didn’t want to come across as desperate or lose his respect. It had to be his decision—this was too delicate, too intimate. I’d already given him the green light; that was it.

So, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the mosaic of streetlights play across it. I felt trapped by my own principles, which, for some reason, I felt shouldn’t be crossed.

Someone else might’ve thought I was being ridiculous, but I knew I couldn’t have done it differently—not with someone like Damien.

I fell asleep with difficulty, every fiber of my being wanting to get up and go to his apartment. Only my sense of decency held me back.