Ronan (Mate’s Mark #1)

Chapter 1

Ronan

Dusky pink melts into a hazy purple, the air waves rippling and rolling like the summer heat off asphalt. Every night, for a few isolated moments, the orange glow of the setting sun filters through the low-floating clouds of the darkening sky, and I can imagine it’s the blood orange sunset of the other side. The light reaches out, stretching its fingers like it’s calling me home.

A nostalgic display just for me.

Dappled, shimmering beams paint over the landscape in shifting shadows, warming my skin and serving as a bittersweet reminder of what we once had.

What we lost.

It’s a phantom touch, a ghost of the real thing that triggers a rapid-fire reel in my mind. Reminders of a life that feels like it belongs to someone else. Vivid as if it were yesterday, yet somehow indistinct—a memory viewed through a window that can never be opened. The sounds and smells of the other side are gone with time, the view forever beyond reach .

Forgotten.

Every day, pieces of my home, my life, are chipped away by time’s insistent chisel.

Decades on this side of the veil, and the muted grays and blues of the sky are still unfamiliar. I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing the electric hues of the grass and how it moved and danced in the wind, or how the triple moons glowed in shades of pink and red among the twinkling backdrop of night.

Stars were more plentiful on that side, millions of tiny fairy lights that glowed in a synced mosaic of universes against a velvet night. Towering trees scraped the sky, their leaves rustling in the balmy air that was always thick with the sweet, almost overwhelming perfume of flowers that no longer exist.

It’s gone.

All of it.

My world… my home … is now nothing more than a memory, and we have no one to blame but ourselves.

“Feeling nostalgic again?” A heavy sigh pushes from my nose, the sound letting Elas know his presence isn’t welcome. Never one to pick up on hints, he drops beside me and together, we stare out at the dying sun, bleeding its final rays over the land.

“Did you need something, or do you just enjoy hearing yourself speak?” I don’t bother trying to hide my irritation; it isn’t the time for company or sharing.

No, right now, I need to be left alone.

I need to figure this out.

He crosses his enormous legs, the leather of his boots creaking softly, and rests his chin on his palms. Long braids form a curtain of dark hair that obscures his face as he settles into a comfortable slump. “You’re always up here, staring at the divide as if you could single-handedly open it again.” I grunt, not wasting words on a pointless argument, and shift to catch the last bits of otherness billowing through the dimming light. “It’s gone, Ronan.”

“You don’t think I realize that?” My arms cross as my fingers dig pits into my muscles, indenting through the worn leather of my armor.

He shrugs in a slow, deliberate movement, completely unfazed by my rising temper. Perpetually cheerful, Elas has never let my rough edges puncture his softer ones. “Sometimes knowledge clashes with belief.”

I snort, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. “Aren’t you the scholar tonight?” He grins, but the hint of a smile that had been forming on my face disappears. “I know it’s gone, Elas.”

And how could I not?

I was there the day the impossible happened—when the veil fell away and our worlds collided. The very fabric of our existence was torn right down the middle, revealing what we’d always suspected but had never proven.

Two parallel worlds, existing side by side but never touching.

Until they did.

As if the curtain had been drawn back at a busy theater, there they were—an audience on the other side, watching and waiting for the show to begin. Gateways opened, their passage as simple as stepping through a doorway.

The humans were cautious, choosing to stand guard and inspect, conduct studies and experiments.

Wait, and watch, and learn.

Not us .

No, we charged through headfirst as soon as we could muster our armies, consequences be damned.

Monsters, they called us.

Demons.

Devils .

The list of names they had for our kind was endless, and we earned every one. Many of our species are seasoned warriors, and even the typically peaceful races were tense, anxious to defend our home.

It was us or them.

Kill or be killed.

History tells us that’s the way it’s always been, so we charged in, swords at the ready, and attacked.

We slaughtered .

By the time the fields of blood soaked into the weeping ground, the world was irrevocably changed. Half of humanity was gone—eradicated from this planet as if they were a disease that needed controlling.

They were extinguished.

Annihilated .

And me?

At the head of the front lines, charging in with a battle cry on my lips and my sword brandished.

The perfect soldier.

“Commander Bravis was looking for you,” Elas says, pulling me from my bloody memories. “He noticed something’s been…” His enormous black eyes gleam like polished obsidian against the muted blue tones of his skin, flickering over my agitated stance. “… off with you these past few days.”

“Nothing is off ,” I snap, but I’ve never been one to hide behind a mask. My every emotion and thought has always been on display for the world to witness. Most often, it’s annoyance that I project, and why so many give me a wide berth. Elas is the single exception, the one friend that’s wormed his way past my prickly exterior.

A quiet shrug shows his indifference at my temper. “I covered for you.”

“You don’t have to cover for me,” I scoff, the words dripping with sarcasm, “because I’m not doing anything wrong.”

He huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head as the last sliver of sun dips below the horizon, stealing those tiny glimpses of home. “You know how much he hates it when you’re being…”

“Do not say it,” I mutter, dragging my palm over my face.

“ Whimsical .”

“Whimsical,” I repeat with a snort, glancing down at my broken-in armor. It’s scarred with a storybook of battles and is a perfect fit for my fighter’s build.

Warrior, through and through.

My fellow Anunians, with our mostly humanoid features, were more readily accepted than some of the other, more alien races from our world. Our frame is larger and wider, but the proportions are similar, and our dusty mauve skin could almost pass for brown in the right lighting. Humans are quick to rationalize the strange, so our broad noses and large eyes are overlooked, while our small fangs are easily concealed.

It’s the tails that remind them we are other .

“Why are you up here? I mean, we all know you enjoy your solitude, but the past few days… ”

“Do you ever wonder if it’s true?” I interrupt, and I sense his eyes on me, but can’t bring myself to look at him. “The prophecy?”

A long, tense silence hangs between us, his skepticism speaking volumes even before he opens his mouth. “Anything’s possible, I guess,” he drawls, abandoning his usual cheeriness for a cynicism that feels like a mockery.

“Don’t patronize me. If a serious conversation is too much for your feeble mind, there’s no point in you sitting up here bothering me.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he says, holding his hands up, placating. “That’s what has you wound up? A phony prophet’s epic tale that your fated mate—your human fated mate—is out there wandering the world, just waiting for you to find them?”

Another scoff escapes as I flex my hands, inhaling the faint, familiar scent of leather from the motion. “When you say it like that, it sounds…”

“Fantastical?”

Begrudgingly, I nod. “Yeah, fantastical, sure… but is that really what you believe? That the prophecy is nothing more than a fairy tale written by some bored seer… and why? They were tired of meditating? Wanted to see how they could mix things up on Earth?” More than seeing it, I feel his brows rise in a silent challenge, and it makes my temper flare hot. “Damn it, Elas, quit being a dick for two seconds and humor me.”

“First of all, Ronan,” he says, his voice still carrying an air of condescension, “if we’re going to have this discussion, stop sugarcoating it. Describing it as a prophecy plays right into their agenda and turns it flowery and… and be autiful. Something we should strive for. Call it what it really is.”

“Which is?”

“A curse.”

“Alright then, a curse,” I concede, waving my hands through the darkness. His heightened senses track their movement, just like mine feel his attention on me, prickling in awareness of being watched. Predators, both of us. “What do you know about it?”

Elas puts his hands behind his head and leans back, reclining against the battered brick. “The same cautionary tale that we’ve all been told. The Fates were so angered when we crossed the veil and attacked that they condemned us and destroyed the bridge. Our world was eradicated as punishment for our violence, and now, here we are. Stranded. Forced to make this place our home.”

Lost in memories, he becomes quiet, and I do nothing to break the silence until he clears his throat and continues. “Then, in their fucked-up version of a fairy tale, they cursed us, only they didn’t have the decency to call it that. I mean, come on… a human mate for everyone from our side? Paired with some dramatic claim that it’s necessary to fix this broken world?”

“You seem skeptical,” I tease, a slight smile tugging at my lips.

Elas laughs, a booming sound that shakes his massive chest as he throws back his head, flinging his braids over his shoulders. “Their story might hold weight if a single pair of fated mates had ever been found. But they haven’t, Ronan, because it’s bullshit. A fantasy to make us docile. They want to lull us into complacency with this impossible idyllic future that will never happen. ”

I glance at him in question when he pauses, but he’s staring out into the sky. “Religion remade—a tool of oppression meant to maintain their control. A promise of something bigger that can never be delivered.”

“What about the mark?” For a minute I think he hasn’t heard me, but he finally heaves a tired sigh.

“If I get smited by holy lightning, I’m blaming you. Your bad influence is turning me into a blasphemous man.” I grin to myself, hiding it behind my hand. “Why would the Fates do such a thing? Give us a mate, but no way to find them? Drop us onto this plane—”

“Don’t do that,” I interrupt with a scoff. “We came willingly. Don’t twist the story to make it sound as though we were forced here by Fate’s hand. Our armies were driven through those passageways by our greed, and nothing more. None of us are innocent.”

His mouth pulls into a tight frown as he thunks his head against the brick a few times. “Yeah, I know. The Mate’s Mark…” he says, a scornful laugh pushing past his lips. “If it’s true, it’s bullshit. There’s a fated partner for everyone, but we don’t recognize them until we touch them?”

“Well, why not?” I counter, enjoying his huff of frustration. “It’s not like the Fates would make this easy on us. Gods know they’ve never shown any interest in making our lives simpler.”

“Yes, but consider the sheer numbers. Millions of humans and our kind inhabit this planet, spread thousands of miles apart over different continents. Divided by fucking oceans. The odds of actually encountering your mate are astronomically low, a needle in a cosmic haystack, but realistically? It’s impossible. It’s a lie, Ronan... all of it. ”

“But what if it isn’t?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he snaps, sitting forward and snarling at me with a rare show of irritation. “This foolishness from others is one thing, but I never expected this from you. Why are you so stuck on something that’s never going to happen?”

“Never going to happen? You’re positive, then? Absolutely sure? The great, almighty Elas has spoken, so let’s bow to your infinite wisdom?”

“What the hell, Ronan? Fuck you and that smart mouth. You asked a question, and I answered, but you’re just seeking validation. If all you want is to hear yourself speak, go yell into the valley and listen to the echoes.”

He stands, muscles tense and eyes furious, intending to charge past me to the stairwell, but I jump up and block his way. Elas belongs to the Nu’vak race, which means he’s also a natural born warrior. He’s bigger and bulkier than me, but despite his size and battle prowess, he’s always had a gentle nature. Predictably, he stops instead of ramming into me as another snarl tears across his face. “If you want to sit up here on rooftops, believing in fairy tales and magical endings, do it, but I’m leaving.”

“Fairy tales?” My voice is whisper-quiet and chest-deep, with an edge that puts his defenses on high alert as he freezes. “If this is some sort of twisted fantasy to make us compliant, then explain this to me!” Furious, I rip off my glove and shove my hand in his face.

The color of moonlight, somewhere between white and yellow, pulses in a soft glow from my palm. It swirls under my skin like a small galaxy, shining bright enough to illuminate the surprise on Elas’s face. His giant hand closes around my wrist and pulls me closer, fascinated, as the mark writhes beneath his inspection. A tiny, living thing, twisting and turning.

Wanting.

Searching.

“When did this happen?” he asks, those onyx eyes landing on mine in the darkness.

“Three days ago.”

His face remains impassive, a mask carved from stone, before a giant, cheek-splitting smile lights him up. “Holy shit,” he whispers, pulling me into a crushing boa constrictor hug that makes me grunt, and I wrestle my way free with a glare. “You have a mate… an actual mate.”

His smile falters, then disappears completely as he gives my face a slow, searching appraisal. “Why aren’t you happy about this? Don’t want to be bogged down by the relationship ball and chain? Domestic life might be good for you, old friend.”

Shaking my head, I let my gaze wander over the compound once more. “For two godsdamned seconds, use your brain and think about what this means.”

He pauses, and I can almost hear the rusted clank of the gears spinning in his brain, cogs covered in cobwebs and nonsense. “Okay, okay… are you upset about being tied to a human? They are an incredibly beautiful species, although I guess we have a… rocky history with them.”

That’s certainly a way to downplay systematic mass murder, I suppose.

Rocky.

We’ll go with that.

I say nothing, letting him work out the details on his own. “And the mark is supposed to activate once you touch your…” The root of the problem finally dawns on his face as his words sputter to a stop, his eyes the size of small moons in the darkness. “Wait, if you’ve touched them, you must know who it is! Which human have you been touching?”

A humorless snort blows from my nose as I shake my head. “I don’t know who it is.”

“But how—”

A heavy sigh whooshes from my lungs as I drop back onto the platform we were sitting on, and he takes his seat beside me again. “Three days ago, Elas… think . What happened three days ago?”

Face scrunched, his gaze travels across the base. It’s one of our largest, the headquarters of our military’s surveillance operations, along with a training facility… and maximum-security detainment center. His eyes land on the prisoner quarters, then slam back into mine. “The latest group of rebels.”

“I touched all of them as we put them in their cells,” I murmur, as if lowering my voice somehow lessens the truth. “When I was removing my armor for bed that night, I noticed the mark.”

“It appeared even wearing your gloves?” I nod, a tense grimace on my face. “Well, at least we don’t have to be naked all the time.”

“It’s not funny!” My hand thumps into his rock-hard stomach and he grunts, shoving me away. “There are hundreds of rebels in those cells, each of them guilty of horrible crimes. Half of them are murderers, and I’m supposed to… what? Run down and swoop one up as my mate?” Days of pent-up frustration erupt in an angry laugh, a raw, harsh sound that only enrages me further. “I’ll be stabbed in my sleep or told I’m insane… banished or killed outr ight for treason. There isn’t a single scenario where this works out, Elas.”

“You could use a good stabbing in your sleep,” he mutters, and I smack him again.

“Be serious!” I bark, and he sighs as he sits up straighter.

“What does it feel like?” he asks, gesturing at my hand.

I pick at the leather of my armor, attempting to find a way to put instinct into words. “At first, I felt nothing, but those cells were chaos. Shouting and slamming bars, people trying to run… it’s no surprise I missed it. Then I saw it, and I panicked and decided the best approach was to ignore it, hoping it would fade or disappear.”

“Of course you were going to ignore the Fates,” he mutters with a snort. “And has it? Faded?”

The pad of my thumb pushes on my palm and rubs, the mark under my skin gently tingling under the touch. If I close my eyes and concentrate, I can feel a deep, insistent tugging in my gut, like someone is dragging me with an invisible string. Persistent, almost painful sensations compel me forward, despite my hesitations.

It doesn’t matter that I don’t want to go, doesn’t matter that I have no interest in a mate—much less a human mate. Fate pulls me along anyway, nothing more than her puppet.

His curious stare makes me realize I haven’t answered him. “No, Elas, it hasn’t faded.”

“What are you going to do about it?” He gestures out towards the prisoner quarters. “Leadership is furious with this round of rebels, and you know how unreasonable the commander gets. He blames them for the attack on the convoys last month, and honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised if he executes them all.”

My stomach twists in something akin to panic, a pain so brutal that it causes me to double over, my arms hugging my abdomen. I try to cover it by leaning on my knees, but the concern on Elas’s face tells me he sees right through me.

“It doesn’t matter,” I lie… to him, to myself, to the Fates above.

“Don’t pull that bullshit with me,” Elas says, snatching my hand as I let out a warning growl. “Tell me again you don’t care if your mate is slaughtered like a fucking lamb while you stand here and do nothing.”

The mark on my skin flares into a yellow radiance, pulsing into the darkness, and lights the grim satisfaction that crosses his face. I rip my hand back and shove it into my glove, leaving us surrounded by the night once more. “The Fates have cursed me either way.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs, both of our eyes trailing over to the prisoner compound. “Do you really think you could walk away from this? Leave this giant question mark hanging over your head? You’re endlessly curious, Ronan, even if you aren’t a romantic—”

“I can be romantic,” I argue, and he waits for me to glance at him before he arches an eyebrow and gives me a look. A quiet scoff escapes my lips, and I shake my head, looking away before he has the chance to prove my reputation is anything but romantic.

He has plenty of examples, I’m sure.

“We’ve been friends too many years,” I decide, and he chuckles .

We sit in silence for a few minutes, only the lights of the base and the twinkling of the stars above to keep us company. Distant voices shout back and forth, and a few doors slam, but otherwise, it’s quiet.

Peaceful.

“Are you really going to let this slip away?” Elas finally asks, and that string to my stomach yanks a little harder. Another few minutes tick by in thick silence as the tug inside my gut begs my feet to hit the ground… begs me to go, to run, to do something. It’s more insistent than anything I’ve ever experienced.

“We both already know the answer to that.” The weight of my whispered words hangs heavy between us until they fade into the night and slip away, almost as if they never existed.