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I hiss out a breath. I’ve made a mess all over myself, and instead of the numbing satisfaction of an orgasm well-achieved, I feel…
Disgusted.
My self-control’s no better than a wild animal’s. I ball up my sheets, the stiff hotel fabric scratching against my now flaccid member. I limp toward the shower, stretching my muscles as I go.
After my shower, my thoughts still linger on the dream. Drying off with the rough hotel towel, the sun is finally peaking over the horizon, threatening to start a new day.
But today feels different, just as the dream did. I can’t describe why, but it felt right. My heart is still racing. It touched my core in ways I haven’t felt since… well, ever.
I feel as though I’ve been living with an invisible barrier between myself and the world around me. Life is muted, like I’m looking at it through a cheesecloth. I can see and smell it, but it’s distorted and out of reach.
The air is stale. Food is bland. My emotions are as stagnant as my search. Grief and anger are always there, lurking in every thought. Every interaction. Every moment of this Gods’ forsaken life, they burrow deeper into the essence of my being.
But that dream changed things. Even now, hours later, I can feel the remnants of joy. It’s slipping away, but it’s there.
Hope.
Hope of finally finding my fated mate. Hope that she will mend my fractured soul and help me exact revenge on those who have betrayed me.
My lungs expel a heavy breath.
She’ll betray ya too. No different from the others.
The voice of the madman darts around my thoughts. The doubt creeps further with every reverberation. It’s a reasonable assumption, considering everyone I’ve ever trusted turned on me, eventually.
I dress slowly, considering my next moves. I check my phone to see the bar from the dream is only four blocks from the hotel. It won’t open for hours yet, but I’ll be nearby keeping my nose to the wind. Searching for the scent of mulled wine.
Years of searching have come to this: Today, in Atlanta, I will find my fated mate.
I know it. The dream was many things, and now that I’ve had some time to process, I think it is also a sign. But if I’m right, that means my mate is human. My stomach rolls at the thought before I push it aside.
In the back of my mind, a secret hope takes hold as part of the dream plays on repeat. ‘I claim you, Sunder’A sense of belonging and warmth spreads beneath my skin, seeping into my core: sharp and deadly.
Yes.
Today I will meet my mate.
And my quest will finally be over.
Chapter Three
Mira
When we finally left the restaurant, it was dark outside. Lisa held onto my elbow and escorted me back to my building just a couple of blocks away. After she hugged me goodnight and disappeared down the city street, I turned my ass around and went to another bar alone, determined to get plastered and forget.
Now past midnight, I barely notice the frosty night as I stumble down the mostly empty street back to my apartment.
“You’ve had enough,” I say to myself, mimicking the low baritone of the bartender, who just cut me off. “You know what? Ihavehad enough, good sir. Enough of Tim’s shit!”
I cackle at my joke, stumbling over a crack in the sidewalk and punctuating my recovery with a hiccup.
“Really, bishh? Hiccuping!? I’m a cartoon.”
I roll my eyes at myself, happy to be almost home. While I’m good and drunk, I know that it’s time to sleep it off.
The night is quiet. It’s still in a way that downtown Atlanta is not often still.
Almost like it’s waiting for something.
