UTTERLY LOST

The doorbell jolted me out of my thoughts. I got up and opened it without even checking who it was—no point, really. Only one person ever showed up at my door since the court case: my cousin, Nathaniel. And, well, the repossession agents.

"Come in, Nathaniel," I said, waving him inside.

We headed to the kitchen, where I poured him a coffee without bothering to ask. Once I set it in front of him, I sat down and studied him for a moment.

Nathaniel had been through hell. His parents died in a house fire when he was just fifteen, leaving him with severe burns. My parents adopted him back then because his older brother, Hunter, was stationed overseas in the military and couldn’t take care of him.

The scars still told the story. One side of Nathaniel’s face was disfigured, his eye pale and blind from the burns. He’d lost an ear and some hair on that side, too. Bullies at school were ruthless, calling him a ‘monster’ (oh, how intimately I knew that word!). Eventually, he had to switch to private tutoring. His parents had left him a solid inheritance, so homeschooling seemed like the best way to shield him from further trauma, and my parents decided to go with it.

I was two years older, and from the start, I treated him like my little brother. We were close, and I couldn’t help but feel protective of him. Life had been beyond cruel to Nate, and it pissed me off how unfair it all was.

When my ex accused me of rape and my whole world collapsed, Nathaniel was the only one who stood by me—no questions asked. Sure, my parents didn’t reject me, but they were shaken by Tom’s calculated, manipulative story. He’d shown up at their house, bruised and sobbing, playing the victim so convincingly that they couldn’t help but feel deeply worried. My omega dad, in particular, was heartbroken and scared about what my future would look like. They offered me money, but I turned it down—it was my mess and my responsibility to handle.

It was different with my brothers, though. There was this undercurrent of tension, this unspoken distrust lingering between us. It felt like they couldn’t fully reconcile the brother they knew with the accusations, no matter how baseless they were.

Through all of it, Nathaniel never doubted me for a second.

If it weren’t for the burns, he’d be a ridiculously handsome alpha—very tall, with piercing light blue eyes, thick auburn hair typical of my father’s side of the family, where redheads were common, and Nate had striking features on top of that. But people only saw the scars, not the beauty.

"So, what’s going on, Storm?" Nathaniel asked, finally picking up his coffee. He winced and quickly put it back down.

"This fucking job is killing me," I muttered, pressing my fingers to my temple in a shooting gesture.

His good eyebrow shot up, his sharp blue eye narrowing. "Storm, working for a company setting up staged ‘assaults’ was a bad idea from the start. But hey, what do I know?"

"Oh, shut up," I snapped, annoyed. "You know why I took the job. Without that paycheck, I’d be drowning in debt. And I’d still owe you a ton."

Nathaniel shrugged. "I could’ve waited longer for you to pay me back. But this job—it’s crazy on so many levels. Anyway, I'm not here to lecture; we’ve already talked about that. So, spill it. What happened?"

I took a deep breath. The words seemed almost heavy. "One of the clients whose scenario I handled… is my True Mate. I’m 95% sure."

Nathaniel's eyes went wide, even the one that couldn't see, and I gave him a crooked smile. That reaction was pretty standard in ABO society when the subject of True Mates came up.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Believe me, I’ve been trying to make sense of it all day, too."

"But… how? You're on pheromone suppressants, how can you even tell?" He still stared at me as if I'd grown a second head.

"So many things pointed to it. Where to start?"

"Are you for real?"

"Absolutely."

Nathaniel went quiet, his expression a mix of curiosity and—was that longing? I knew what he was thinking.

After his accident, a nurse had once told him that finding his True Mate could heal his scars completely through the Joining. He had held on to that hope for years, obsessively reading the latest genetic studies on TM markers. But nothing ever came of it. These days, working from home, the odds of scenting his perfect mate were basically zero. And Nate had a small home-based software development startup.

His hand drifted to the scars on his face, and I hesitated. Should I say something? We’d talked about it before—after all, I worked in matchmaking and had access to a pretty big client database, plus advanced compatibility tests. No guarantees, sure, but it could help him. And then there was my special ability… the one nobody, not even Nathaniel, really believed in.

Nate was a particularly tough case—I’d never really managed to lure him out of his cave to seriously try what Fate’s Choice had to offer—things like marital contract fairs and other matchmaking opportunities. He was shy around people, always self-conscious. Putting himself out there was a difficult challenge for him.

"Are you… happy? Is this what you wanted?" he asked carefully.

I knew why he was asking. Not everyone wanted a perfect mate. The ‘Pull’ was intense, overwhelming. Once it kicked in, there was no escaping it. Couples who tried to resist didn’t survive.

These days, a lot of people opted for compatibility matches instead—choosing personality over biology—and using suppressants to keep things manageable. It felt more practical.

And especially me—I had expressed my doubts to Nate so many times before, grumbling about the whole idea, constantly pointing out how ridiculous it would be to find a True Mate for my subspecies, how tiny my chances were.

Once or twice, I’d even sourly said I didn’t really need it . But, of course, I wasn’t being totally honest. It was just easier to cope with the feelings that way.

"Happy? I'm too disoriented. I'm still processing it. It just doesn't feel real, you know?"

"Fair," Nathaniel muttered. "So… what happened? You’ve got to tell me everything. This sounds insane."

"Because it is insane," I said. "My six-month probation at the company ended, and I got assigned contracts that involved sex. One commission wouldn’t leave the system, no matter what I tried. It was the only one left, so I took it. Turned out, it was this twenty-year-old computer science student who wanted a super gentle, borderline romantic home-invasion scenario. All vanilla."

Nathaniel snorted. "Home invasion and… vanilla? That's new."

I laughed. "Right? Anyway, after the usual breaking-in bit, the sex part was supposed to be tender, as if he wanted to make love, not just hook up with a stranger."

"That's unusual, considering what kind of company Dark Dreams is," Nathaniel muttered.

"Indeed. But that’s not even the wild part. I… sensed him, Nate! Like, I could feel what he wanted—some kind of telepathic hocus-pocus! I just knew. And it was the same with the sex. I’ve never been that turned on by anyone. The sheer number of orgasms was insane!"

Nathaniel looked more excited than I expected. "But what about the First Touch? The First Orgasm? The electrical fireworks? Did it happen?"

I cleared my throat. "Well, the First Touch thing didn’t really have a chance to work—I just jumped on him, so any ‘tingling’ went out the window. Plus, remember, I’m on strong suppressants; they block most of it anyway. And the First Orgasm… I was wearing a rubber, so no fireworks for us. But even with that, we both finished in seconds after my first push!"

Nate's excited face suddenly became a bit… less excited.

"I hate to burst your bubble—because honestly, I hope this works out for you—but even with High Mates, there’s a huge sexual attraction when people first meet. Doesn’t mean he’s necessarily your True."

"Well, probably a lot of it can be explained by logic and reason, but something tells me it's the jackpot. And there’s even more weirdness. I messed up his nest… then fixed it, completely mesmerized by it!"

Nathaniel chuckled. "Of all the bizarre things, the nest is the weirdest part?"

"You don’t get it—I had this urge to fix it! I’ve heard the more an alpha connects with an omega’s nest, the higher the chance of a high mateship level. And this one—it was breathtaking. Like a work of art."

Nathaniel looked amused. "Storm, that’s not exactly proof!"

"Geez, don’t be such a buzzkill. Seriously, putting all the signs together, it absolutely points to us being Trues."

Nathaniel tilted his head, giving me a look. "I just would hate to see you crushed if it turns out you’re wrong. The purples have even less chance of meeting their Trues."

My eyes bore into him like two knives, and he finally snorted. "But yeah, for sure… if you say so."

I raised my middle finger. "You’re such a prick."

Nate rolled his eyes. "Anyway. Are you planning to contact him?"

A wave of adrenaline ran through me—the thought of reaching out to Damien was intense. He was probably hurt by my rejection of his heat proposal. I would have to explain my reasoning to him, but how could I do it convincingly when it still felt so fresh to me? I was still processing it myself, coming to terms with the magical possibility of what we might actually be.

Nathaniel watched me closely. "You know that if you contact him outside of work hours, you're breaking the rules of your company, and you'll be fired or punished with a fine."

I shrugged. "That's very likely. I already told Mr. Ragu that Damien is my True Mate, and he reacted baaaaaaaaadly! He thought I was bullshitting him just to get out of another assignment."

"Not surprising, Storm. Even I’m still not sold on it."

"Oh, here we go again! Fucking doubters!"

"Storm, for fuck’s sake! Just listen. I've read about cases where people were absolutely sure they had found their True Mate, but it was just a case of a high-compatibility High Mate! At first, it feels very similar—the quasi-telepathy, amazing sexual chemistry, even something like the Pull—except for one major difference. No electric shock during the first Joining, followed by the lack of ability to heal and rejuvenate. And you didn't have the famous fireworks, did you?"

I clenched my jaw and looked away. Damn. Maybe I’d jumped the gun on this?

Nah!

Nathaniel’s gaze stayed locked on me, like he was just waiting for me to admit I might be wrong. But I remained stubbornly silent. Sure, he’d studied fated mates for years and probably knew everything there was to know. But I just had this gut feeling… that refused to go away.

Finally, he sighed and gave up. "Look, I’m not trying to be a dick about it. The only way to figure this out is to talk to him, explore it more. So. Are you going to?"

"I—I haven’t thought about it yet."

Huffing, I stood up, and paced a little to avoid his gaze.

"I have a lot to think about. Besides, there’s a bigger problem: I refused to see Damien during his heat." I practically screeched the words. "Ragu called me about it. But I said no because I can't do it for the money."

Nathaniel’s eyes went wide. "Hold up—he asked for you to be there, and you said no? Fuck the money, Storm! That was your perfect chance to figure things out!"

I slumped back in the chair with a groan. How was I supposed to explain to Nate how special this felt? How could I ruin it by taking money for something that should mean so much more than just a transaction? I wanted to give it to Damien freely, make his first heat something sacred, something meaningful for… both of us.

"I can’t do it for profit, Nate. He deserves someone who wants to be there because they care about him."

Nathaniel frowned. "But… aren’t you that person? The one who cares?"

"I don’t want it to be transactional!" I snapped. "Don’t you get it? His first time already was ! Why should he BUY every first time in his life? That’s fucked up!"

We stared at each other for a long moment. Nathaniel looked like he was trying hard to understand me—I could almost see his brain working overtime.

"Okay," he finally said. "Then why don’t you just talk to your boss again, lay it all out there. Ask for permission to contact Damien privately—"

"I can’t. Ragu’s majorly pissed that I turned the heat commission down," I interrupted. "Honestly, I thought he’d fire me on the spot if not for something else that came up."

"What came up?"

I leaned forward, grinning despite myself. "He offered me a chance to work for his husband at Fate’s Choice again."

Nathaniel’s jaw practically hit the floor. "Wait, what? After kicking you out like trash ? They’re offering to take you back now?"

"Yep." I nodded. "They failed to match a few clients; the fines could be in the millions. I guess they finally realized that firing me was a mistake after studying the annual reports. My stats were way above other matchmakers."

Nathaniel rubbed his chin, eyeing me skeptically. "They must be desperate."

"Yep. I’ve got a meeting this afternoon with Ren, Jun’s husband—to go over everything. I’ll know more soon."

Nathaniel still looked hesitant. "You really think you can pull it off?" he asked. "This won’t be a walk in the park, Storm. You’ll probably have to find matches for all of them to prove you’re worth it. They won’t take you back that easily. Let’s be real, ‘a purple alpha criminal’ pairing their precious wealthy clients is still a big risk, reputation-wise."

I snorted. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, jerk! Look, I know it’s a long shot, but I have to try."

Nathaniel sighed, giving me a cautious look. "Alright, back to Damien. If he's in heat, that's all the more reason to approach him privately and discreetly—in a way Ragu wouldn’t find out. There’s a good chance Damien won’t rat you out to Ragu for breaking company rules."

"Wouldn’t be so sure. Damien might be pissed at me too. After all, I did reject his heat offer. I can’t exactly show up at his door saying, ‘Hey, I liked you so much, let’s be boyfriends. Oh, and by the way—we’re True Mates.’ That’d be batshit crazy! He probably sees me as just a sex worker and wouldn’t want anything to do with me, let alone as a life partner."

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "Now you’re being a doomer. You can’t know that for sure. Focus. There’s probably a way to get Damien’s number or email and reach out in a less… invasive way, without just showing up on his doorstep—"

A vague idea started forming in my head. "Well… I know from Ragu that Damien is majoring in computer science at East Coastline College. I could try to find him there—just watch from a distance, figure out a way to talk to him without showing up at his home unannounced."

Nathaniel stared at me with a skeptical grimace. "It’s not much of an upgrade from invading his home. Stalking him on campus? You’re making this way harder than it needs to be."

"Maybe," I muttered. "But I won’t corner him at home, in his safe space. At least in public, he’ll have more options, more control. But first, I’ve got my meeting with Ren Ragu. Then, I’ll figure out what’s next."

We sat in silence for a minute.

"There’s one thing that keeps bugging me," I said finally. "He specifically asked Ragu to give me his surname—Lowen. You know, that Lowen family. The famous one. Why would he do that? It was completely unnecessary. We don’t usually get the last names of our clients."

Nathaniel rubbed his chin. "Was it related to the scenario?"

"Nope! Ragu gave me the name after! And only then asked about the heat assistance. Think about it: if I had agreed to do it with him just for the money, if I’d taken the bait and demonstrated that money was my priority, what would that say about me? It looks like he’s testing if I’m all about the gold."

Nathaniel nodded, narrowing his eyes. "Lowen family, huh? They’re fucking huge! I’d expect him to hide that, definitely not ask Ragu to tell you. These rich people protect their privacy. It kinda looks like some kind of test."

The silence between us stretched as I stood up and walked to the window. I looked out at the yard—still empty.

My dad used to fill his garden with vegetables, flowers, every kind of plant you could imagine. But this place just felt lifeless, like me. Living here alone was a constant reminder of everything I’d lost—my court case, my divorce, getting kicked out of Fate’s Choice. It all kept piling up. And now this Damien situation—I had no idea how to handle it without making things worse.

Nathaniel broke the silence. "Are the renovations over?"

"Sort of," I muttered. "There are still some rooms that need more furniture. And, well, maybe an omega’s touch." I felt a little embarrassed admitting that.

He raised an eyebrow. "You… miss that? Having someone special in your life?"

I looked at him like he’d just asked the dumbest question ever. "Don’t you?"

Nate froze for a second. "You know I’ve never had a boyfriend, so… can’t really say."

The silence between us turned awkward and heavy. I knew why Nathaniel stayed away from omegas—he’d tried in the past and was brutally rejected. His looks scared people off. He’d told me once that, back in college, he had a beta fuckbuddy who hooked up with him out of pity. Other than that, he’d never had an actual relationship.

Finally, Nathaniel cleared his throat, probably desperate to change the subject. "When does his heat start?"

With a sigh, I answered, "According to Ragu, in a few days. So I don’t have much time to decide what to do."

Nathaniel leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his auburn hair. "You better decide fast. If you don’t, he’ll find a replacement. No omega wants to go through heat alone. And since you turned him down, he’s got a choice to make."

His words made me flinch slightly. Nate was right. Damien could go to someone else—and plenty of alphas would jump at the chance. No-strings-attached sex with a cute omega? Hell, some guys would be lining up. Even if Damien wasn’t conventionally attractive, just the word heat could make young alphas lose their minds. And that’s not even factoring in his damn last name.

Nathaniel watched me closely, his gaze steady. "When’s your meeting with Ragu? It’s only 10 am. You know, there are probably loads of students on campus right now, classes in full swing…" His tone was casual, but he was watching me like he was waiting for something.

Flustered, I scratched my chin. "He’s probably furious with me anyway…"

"Maybe not? You didn’t want his money—that’s gotta count for something, right? If he’s looking for someone who doesn’t care about that."

We were both silent for a while.

"There’s one more thing, a bit funny. It’s almost like Fate wanted me to take Damien’s commission. No matter what I did, that commission stubbornly stayed in the system. I couldn’t take another one. Nobody else wanted it either. It was… strange."

Nathaniel stayed quiet for a moment before saying, his tone a bit sour, "Please don’t say you’re treating it as a magical sign from Fate."

I closed my eyes for a second. "Do you have to be such a fucking doubter in everything?"

"Just… let me check your commission system. I want to see if my suspicion is right." He smirked.

"Fine!" I said, shrugging.

We went over to my laptop, and I logged in to show Nathaniel the system I used to check new commissions. He opened some kind of console and started typing and checking logs. Since I wasn’t a programmer—or a hacker!—I had no clue what he was doing.

After about twenty minutes, when I was getting restless, he straightened up, looking pleased. "This system isn’t publicly available—it’s a log-in app. I can see the status of all commissions, including your last one. Here’s the interesting part: it’s set so that only you can see it."

"Well, yeah," I said. "I already accepted it, so the icon is gray now instead of green. That’s normal."

"No, you’re missing the point. Look at this: when I click on another employee’s name, I can see a list of their assignments. They’re gray, and I can’t access the details, but they’re still visible. Damien’s case isn’t even listed!"

I rubbed my chin. "Maybe Ragu hid it because he wanted to… uh—" Nope, I had no explanation.

"Hold on, let me check when the status changed."

A minute later, Nathaniel nodded, looking smug. "This commission: ‘Home Invasion Scenario,’ was set from the start to be visible only to you. Like, they specifically wanted you to take it."

Frozen, I stared at the screen. None of this made any sense anymore.

"Why?"

Nathaniel shrugged, still poking around. "Here’s something else. The commission isn’t new. The draft for it was created almost two months ago but was only activated a few days ago."

"Maybe that’s normal? All the contracting, meetings, discussing details… it could take that long to finalize things, right?"

"Maybe," Nathaniel said. "But look at this other assignment of yours: ‘Dog-man,’ right?"

I snorted. "Don’t even ask."

"Here. This one was created two weeks before ‘Home Invasion Scenario’ and went live three days later. Much faster turnaround. So no, it doesn’t always take two months."

"Perhaps Damien hesitated? Asked for time to think?"

"Possibly. But it still doesn’t explain why it was set specifically for you ."

"Could be nothing. Most likely he just wanted a purple alpha, being a rose omega himself. They might’ve waited until I was off probation and could take sex gigs."

"That could be the case," Nathaniel nodded. "But it kinda sounds like he was determined to find you. And now you’ve disappointed him." He narrowed his eyes at me.

"I just—"

Nate obviously still didn’t get it, so I just shrugged.

"Anyway, Fate has nothing to do with it. Ragu set the commission that way."

I snorted angrily. "C’mon! My laptop battery died, I was logged off, I was late—it has nothing to do with the status of this assignment! If that hadn’t happened, I would’ve chosen another commission for sure. But these strange occurrences prevented it. So, screw you and your doubts!"

Nathaniel frowned and lowered his head. "Okay, sorry. I didn’t mean to dishearten you. I—I’m a pessimist by design. Nothing good ever happens in my love life…" He said it while looking away, and I sighed because he was kinda right. Nate continued, "I really hope it’s destiny. But exactly for that reason, if you want to pursue him, you’d better hurry. For all you know, he’s already found some other alpha to give him a few days of uninterrupted bliss."

That thought sent a wave of anxiety through me. I started pacing again. "He’s a computer science student. That narrows down the courses he could be taking."

Nathaniel perked up—he’d graduated in computer science last year himself. "And which campus did you say? East Coastline?"

"Yup."

He pulled out his phone, scrolling for a moment before showing me the screen. "Here. This is the schedule for the computer science department. There are a bunch of courses listed. You could check a few rooms—classes end at different times, sometimes fifteen minutes apart, sometimes half an hour. If Damien’s attending any, you should be able to spot him."

A sudden rush of excitement surged through me, pushing aside all my doubts. This idea was crazy, but maybe that’s exactly why it might work. "And perhaps that’s what I’ll do!"

I copied the link to the class schedule, then dashed off to the bathroom to quickly fix my hair. When I came back, Nathaniel was already waiting by the exit.

He made a step toward me and put his hand on my shoulder. "Good luck, Storm. And I’m sorry for being a doubter. I would hate for you to be disappointed. But if he really is your True Mate, don’t let this chance slip away. Besides… if that’s the case, you’d probably end up wanting to see him again sooner or later anyway. That’s how it works, the whole ‘Pull’ thing, right?" His voice carried a hint of melancholy.

Almost unconsciously, he raised his other hand and touched his face, brushing over his scars—a habit he couldn’t seem to break. Even his good eye looked distant for a moment, almost as blank as the blind one. There was a depressive energy around him, and I felt a bit stupid.

After all, his chances were even smaller than mine, so I understood his pessimism in a way. "Sorry for dumping all this stuff on you, but thanks for your support, Nate."

As he nodded, I grabbed my car keys and gave him a bro pat on the shoulder. "I’ll let you know how it goes."

***

The East Coastline Campus was huge. Way bigger than I’d expected. I didn’t know where any of the buildings were, let alone the computer science department. Turns out, classes weren’t all in one place but scattered all over the campus.

My plan was pretty simple—at least in theory. Two lectures were happening in the main building. One was ending in fifteen minutes and the other in about an hour. Then there were a bunch of classes in three separate buildings, but a couple ended too soon for me to even get there. The rest finished in about half an hour—at the exact same time. Bad luck.

But as I stared at the campus map, an idea started to form. If I positioned myself just right, I could catch one group leaving, then sprint about 100 yards and catch the second group. Theoretically.

The problem was: I had no idea whether Damien was even in class right now. If he wasn’t—if he’d already finished and gone to grab lunch—I’d miss him completely. That gave me another lead, though: the cafeterias. The campus had several of them. Not ideal, but I had to start somewhere. The main building seemed like the best bet.

I kept looking around nervously, hoping I didn’t stick out too much, despite my tall frame.

The height alone didn’t necessarily suggest I was a purple.

Almost all alphas were exclusively above 6’4’’—it was in our genetics—but many were even taller, around 6’6’’ and up. A few were close to 7’, so I could somewhat blend in. And even though I was about to turn 25 in a few months, I could still pass for a student, looks-wise.

Still, the fact that I didn’t feel like a student anymore made me hyperaware of people’s stares.

Then I got to the information desk, the attendant raised an eyebrow but pointed me to the room I was looking for. Climbing the stairs, I could feel my pulse picking up. Damien didn’t know what I looked like, which was comforting in a way. If I spotted him, and he was with someone, I could just walk away.

The lecture ended, and students started flooding out of the room. I scanned the crowd, looking for Damien’s fiery, amaranth-red hair. Nothing. Part of me felt disappointed, but the other part was honestly relieved.

Next up were two buildings with classes ending at the same time. I found a spot where I could watch students leaving both. The doors opened, and people poured out. But from this distance, it was impossible to tell who was who—especially with some students wearing caps. And the crowd was huge, scattering in all directions. I squinted, hoping to see him, but no luck. Maybe he was hidden somewhere among them.

I wasn’t ready to give up yet, though. The last class was wrapping up soon. I rushed over and waited for the students to come out, but with the same result—no Damien.

Frustration started gnawing at me. What was I even doing? But then it hit me again: if he wasn’t in class, maybe he was at a cafeteria. I might’ve missed him earlier in the crowd. The closest one was near the main building, and it had the weirdest name: Fate . It felt oddly symbolic.

I headed there, eventually even breaking into a light run. The cafeteria was spacious and packed with students, but as I scanned the tables, my eyes zeroed in on a spot by the window.

Sunlight hit a reddish-pink head of hair, almost glowing.

Damien.

My heart jumped into my throat. I felt a weird mix of relief and panic. So I found him—what now? He was sitting with a group—two omegas, two betas, and one alpha. They were chatting and laughing, but Damien looked quiet. He was hunched over his tray, picking at his food and sipping soda like he was somewhere else entirely.

The line moved forward, and I grabbed a coffee, trying to buy some time. With my cup in hand, I found a spot at a nearby table with a couple of betas.

"Mind if I sit here?" I asked casually.

They nodded, so I sat down, angling myself so I could see Damien without being obvious.

He looked smaller than I remembered, like the green hoodie and black jeans were swallowing him. His posture was slouched, and he barely reacted when one of the betas in his group, a guy in a T-shirt with a big pug head printed on it, said something to him. It made my stomach twist. Was this my fault? Did I make him feel like this by turning him down?

I watched him quietly, hoping he’d look up, maybe spot me. At one point, he did glance around the room. My heart jumped, but his gaze skimmed right over me. A few minutes later, he looked up again, and this time, I noticed something in his expression—like he was restless or distracted.

Finally, his eyes landed on my table. My breath caught. For a split second, I thought he saw me. But then he looked down again, like nothing had happened.

The group eventually finished eating, got up, and returned their trays. I followed at a distance, trying not to seem like a stalker. They headed toward the main building, probably for their next class.

I still had no clue what I was going to do. Walk up to him in front of his friends? That felt like a terrible idea—awkward for both of us. Hey, I’m the guy who fucked you wearing a mask! Don’t mind I stalk you in your school? Sounded just like a line happening every day all over campuses.

When they went into a classroom, I hung back. But when I peeked inside, I stopped breathing. Damien wasn’t there! My heart started racing. Where did he go? The dean’s office? Another class? Did he ditch entirely?

Then I noticed a sign for the restrooms.

My feet moved before I could think. I pushed the door open, and… there he was—standing at the sink, washing his hands.

My pulse was in overdrive. I had maybe five seconds before he walked out.

"Hey, Damien," I said, my voice soft but clear.

He froze, then turned toward me. His eyebrows knit together, and for a second, he looked confused. But then it clicked. Maybe it was my height, or perhaps my eyes, which had been visible through the slits in my ski mask during our previous encounter. His expression shifted from confusion to shock.

Then… it turned guarded. He clenched his hands into fists, blinked, and swallowed hard.

"Is it you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, it’s me," I answered, trying to sound calm. "Look, if you want me to leave, I will. I just—I wanted to explain why I turned you down."

He stared at me, wide-eyed.

"I need you to know that I’m not rejecting you—just the idea of handling this through the company, making it transactional. I don’t want you to pay for something so intimate. I couldn’t say this to the company owner to relay to you because it’s against their rules, so I had to tell you in person. But I’m open to spending this time with you, outside of Dark Dreams, just privately. No money, no business. Just… a normal heat."

"Did you follow me?"

I sighed. "Yeah, I did. All I knew was that you were a student, so I took a chance and came to the nearest college. It probably looks like stalking, but I had no other way to contact you. And I didn’t want to show up at your house unannounced. At least here, it’s a public place," I explained, wincing.

The silence felt heavy, and the bathroom suddenly seemed smaller, almost claustrophobic.

"Sorry for that, but I just needed to explain myself so you wouldn’t feel rejected for the wrong reasons."

Damien didn’t respond right away, but I could sense bitterness—or maybe irritation. Was it because I’d overstepped and put him in an awkward spot? Or for some other reason? At the same time, I congratulated myself for not going straight to his home. That would’ve been way worse.

Then he coughed slightly and straightened his shoulders a bit.

"So… this would be on your personal time?" he asked slowly, sounding cautious.

"Yes, of course."

"Why?" His voice was neutral, but there was something deeper there.

I paused, caught off guard. "Because… I want to do this with you."

Damien lowered his head, looking as if he were thinking very hard about something.

Not knowing what else to say, I shifted awkwardly and glanced at my phone. My time was running out. I had already spent a few hours on campus—I had to leave soon for a meeting with Mr. Ragu.

"Damien, I have to go. I’ve got a job interview, and I don’t want to be late. But could I get your number? You don’t have to decide anything now; just let me know when you’re ready—if you’re ready."

Damien hesitated, then nodded. He pulled out his phone and gave me his number. I dialed it right away, and the sound of his phone ringing in his hand made me take a deep breath of relief.

"I’ll wait for your decision," I said softly. "And I promise, if you choose not to contact me, I won’t bother you again. You’re safe from me. I’m not a stalker," I added with a rueful smile.

But when I turned to leave, he called out after me.

"Are you looking for a new job?"

"Yeah."

"Why? What’s wrong with this one?" His voice was quiet, almost inaudible.

I clenched my jaw, feeling a bit exposed. "Your commission made me realize I don’t want to have sex with clients."

His lips curled bitterly. He clearly didn’t take it the way I intended.

"Was I that bad? Repulsive?"

"Gosh, no! How could you even think that? It’s… the other way around. I’m just not built for casual things. I want… something real. This job was never meant to be permanent anyway. I had a lot of debt because of my ex-husband and needed quick and big money. That’s all," I said with a shrug, giving him a tentative smile.

"What kind of job are you looking for?" His tone sounded casual, but there was this strange intensity behind it, like he genuinely wanted to know.

"I used to work as a client assistant at a matchmaking agency, but I had to leave… for various reasons. I have something like a job interview there today. Hopefully, I’ll get rehired."

"Are you still in debt?"

"Yes, but I have only two last installments to pay, and then I’m free."

"Then why resign now? Do you have the money to pay it off?"

His line of questioning was somewhat peculiar. Why did he even care about it?

"I don’t, but I can’t stay at Dark Dreams anymore. My boss is trying to force me to take another commission—and it would involve sex again. I don’t want to do it. The guy’s fascinated by me being a purple. I’m just… tired of being seen only as that."

Damien stared at me for a long moment before suddenly blurting out, "I kinda know what you mean. I’m seen a certain way too, because I’m a Lowen."

"Yes, being different, in any way… can be a nuisance."

He averted his gaze. His eyes landed on the mirror next to us and met mine there, in the reflection.

"The bonus money I sent you… would it cover your debt?" he asked, circling back to the previous topic.

"It would."

"But you returned it."

"I did. And I’m not taking money from you, so let’s not even go there. I want this to be normal. Because we both want it. Not for any other reason."

His eyes bored into me intensely. Then, suddenly, he muttered, looking downright uncomfortable, "It’s good you’re quitting Dark Dreams. This kind of controversial job could make some people… jealous."

What was he implying? Did he mean he’d be jealous if we were together? Or was it just a general observation?

I shrugged. "No idea what that would look like. No one's ever been jealous of me."

"You were married. I’m sure he was jealous."

"Nope. I was his trophy husband, entertainment. I never had… normalcy. It’s just not in the cards for freaks." I winced a little.

We just stared at each other for a moment.

It probably sounded pathetic, like I wanted him to feel sorry for me, but I just needed him to understand me better. Those short sentences were a glimpse into my life—enough for him to decide if he wanted to try something with me. I came with baggage, and he deserved to know it. I wasn’t just a typical alpha; his life would never be the same with me by his side.

"Is it really like that for you? People… see you as a freak?" he asked so softly I barely heard him.

"Well, I’m not like you, Damien," I muttered. "People can usually tell at first glance that I’m a purple, especially when I’m not wearing gloves. Your nature is more hidden. I’m viewed simply as a monster."

Damien was quiet, just looking at me. It was only now, in the daylight, that I noticed the true color of his irises. They were dark sapphire mixed with graphite—so unusual. His light freckles were amaranth-colored… really striking. Not wanting to stare too much, I glanced at the mirror.

"You don’t seem like a monster to me."

"But I am, Damien. When I change."

A brief pause, during which I could hear his slightly uneven breath.

"No man can be your equal."

I tilted my head. "Quoting some old songs?"

Damien suddenly giggled, the sound pleasant and melodious.

"I have inside me blood of kings, I have no rival, no man can be my equal…" I hummed, and Damien joined in, "Born to be kings, princes of the universe…"

We both chuckled.

"That’s correct! We will one day rule over them," he said, winking with a crooked smile.

I smirked back. "Yeah, there are more and more of us in every generation. The genes are cumulative. Aliens are coming!" I added with a matching wink.

For a few seconds, there was this pleasant, light energy between us, and I wished it would last longer. But suddenly Damien got serious again and frowned.

He looked at the mirror, which had become the place we both gazed when we wanted to change the subject. I almost physically sensed a shift in his energy, becoming distant and kind of dejected again.

In the reflection, we made quite a contrast—me, tall and athletic, and him, shorter, soft, and a bit rounded. His unusual amaranth hair framed his face, giving his skin a pinkish hue, while my burgundy hair had a faint purple sheen in the light.

It was strangely pleasant just to be near him, even with him having this slightly unsure and bashful expression—the whole feeling of his body close to mine, the energy floating between us. I had this urge to reach out and stroke his shoulder, touch his curls, pull him close, kiss those amaranth freckles all over his sweet body, not just on his face. But I had to shake myself out of it.

"A real purple alpha," he whispered, as if he still wasn’t completely believing it. "So rare… I’ve only met a few in person, but never anyone close to my age."

"I’ve never met a rose omega… I mean, knowingly. And I’ve certainly never had sex with one."

Damien blinked in surprise. "You haven’t?"

"No. You’re my first rose omega."

He wrinkled his nose. "Hard to believe."

"Do you sense I’m lying?"

He blinked again and swallowed. The question was loaded. I could feel him—almost as if he were embedded deep in my cells. But could he feel me too? And what would it mean if he did?

Damien’s face shifted slightly—becoming uneasy, confused.

"I sense… you’re telling the truth."

"All I’ve ever told you was the truth. I’ve never lied to you, not even once."

"All those compliments… they weren’t scripted?"

"Nope. They’re what I feel," I whispered, taking a small step toward him.

Damien raised his head, and our eyes locked. Slowly, giving him time to react, I lifted my hand and gently brushed his cheek, tracing the edge of his rose birthmark. His skin felt like electricity, and we both shivered slightly. Damien closed his eyes, his lips parting as he let out a small breath. I was so close to leaning in to kiss him. But I knew better.

Before it became too awkward, I moved my hand away. It wouldn’t be smart to initiate anything without knowing what his decision was.

Damien’s face remained fairly calm, though slightly pink. But what really stopped me was that I could still feel his caution and hesitation—a kind of inner resistance. He slowly opened his eyes. I waited, giving him space to say something, but he stayed silent.

Finally, I just whispered, "Well, take care. If you decide, you’ve got my number. And if not, thanks anyway for… the best sex of my life."

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he frowned and lowered his head, his energy changing even more, becoming more guarded, almost stern. I smiled ruefully and quickly left the bathroom, my heart pounding.

Well, I did it.

I reached out to him, gave both of us a chance to see if there was more here to explore than just amazing sex. Now the ball was in his court. I promised myself I wouldn’t try to see him again if he didn’t text me. I felt his tentativeness and unease all too well. For whatever reason, he didn’t agree to spend heat with me, and I could only guess why.

And the guessing process wasn’t a pleasant thing.

I just had the strong feeling I came to him… too late.

***

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.