Chapter Thirty-Four #2
Anabelle’s pen hovered above her notebook. She thought of the four who watched over her constantly, silently and efficiently, and felt a flutter of gratitude, then guilt. Could she ever do the same for her mate, wherever he was?
“Now, fourth,” Liora said, pausing for effect, “this should be common sense, but it apparently needs stating: Possessive Misconduct. One of the highest chargeable offenses of a mate-bond. Using the bond to control, isolate, or dominate your mate, or enforcing boundaries through fear rather than mutual agreement. This is absolutely not acceptable. A mate-bond is protective in nature, not oppressive.”
Anabelle’s mind flickered to her own insecurities. Protective… not oppressive. She swallowed hard. The line was thinner than she thought.
“Fifth: Neglect. Do not ignore your mate for extended periods. Do not fail to meet their emotional or instinctual needs. Treat the bond as sacred, not optional.”
Her stomach tightened. She had been neglecting her own thoughts and emotions, buried under study sessions, class notes, and exams. She could feel the weight of every word pressing down.
“And lastly: Respect. Publicly undermining or humiliating your mate is abhorrent. Do not make major decisions without them. Do not trample over their boundaries or consent. Ever.”
She turned sharply to face the class, sweeping her gaze over every student. Their eyes were wide, expressions a mix of awe, confusion, and barely-contained excitement.
“What I’ve listed here is pure common sense, people. It shouldn’t be anything new to you, as humans, or even as supernaturals.” She shot a sharp glance toward the monitor at the back of the room and then to Dominik, who still sat tense, jaw set, shoulders stiff.
“This is just… common sense.” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Alright. Read it, learn it, avoid it. Easy as.... Or it should be.”
She clapped her hands sharply, snapping the room’s attention back to her. “Now, let’s go back to your answers. Moving on to what’s acceptable. Tell me what’s the expected behaviour in a mate-bond?” She scanned the front row, her gaze resting finally on Thomas. “Thomas, enlighten us.”
Anabelle breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She felt lucky, thankfully so, that she wasn’t sitting in the front row today.
Thomas cleared his throat nervously. “Uh… for males to protect their mate.”
“Good. Next person.”
“Males usually provide for their mate,” a girl added, voice more confident this time.
“How?” Liora pressed, turning to the next student on the row.
“They… buy everything for the house, prepare meals, make sure she has all her needs met for comfort,” he said.
“Alright. Good. Very good. Do females do the same?” Liora asked, turning sharply to a girl on the other side of the row.
“What?” the girl stammered, clearly caught off guard.
“Do females buy anything for the house? Prepare meals or anything for their males?”
“Nooo?” she replied, hesitantly.
Liora sighed, hands on her hips. “Was that a question, Tasha?”
“No, Miss. The answer is no,” the girl mumbled.
“Incorrect. Females can buy things for the house...after all, it should be a shared home. But,” she added, letting the pause stretch, “she does not make the male’s food unless she’s honouring him.”
Anabelle’s brow furrowed. What the hell does that mean? she thought, scribbling furiously.
“When a male feeds his female, it’s considered providing for her.
But when a female feeds her male… it’s more than an act of service.
She is accepting him, approving the male himself irrespective of the bond, in other words, rewarding him.
It’s monumental, a special act males will likely never forget.
Not many females honour their mates, so when they do, if they ever do, its a quite remarkable experience. ”
Silence fell across the room as the weight of the explanation sank in. Anabelle felt it in her chest, this mixture of fascination and fear. Everything matters. Every little action…
“Alright. Next,” Liora prompted, her eyes sweeping the classroom. “What’s another expected behaviour?” She glanced toward Dominik. Silence.
Anabelle nudged him lightly in the thigh. His head snapped up, and his eyebrows shot so high it made her suppress a grin. His gaze locked on hers for the briefest moment, and she felt a flutter.
“Me?” he asked finally, voice low but firm.
“Well, are you not in my class, Mr…?” Liora’s voice rang across the room, calm but with a sharp edge that demanded attention.
“Thorne.” Dominik straightened in his seat, the sudden motion drawing a ripple of quiet from the class.
“So, Mr. Thorne,” she continued, eyes scanning him, “what’s another expected behaviour of bond pairs?”
Dominik’s gaze flicked to Anabelle for a fraction of a second, just long enough to make her chest tighten, but he quickly looked straight ahead again. His voice was steady, almost too steady.
“The… mating gift,” he said.
“Very good, Miss Wyatt,” Liora said, redirecting to Anabelle. “What is a mating gift?”
Anabelle’s stomach dropped. Fuck. If she knew the answer, she’d be golden. Gods, couldn’t he have said something simple? Something she’d actually know?
“I… I don’t know,” she admitted, cheeks warming.
“That’s okay. Can anyone else tell me?” Liora prompted, her tone patient.
The room was silent for a heartbeat, the air thick with tension and curiosity. Then Liora’s gaze returned to Dominik. “Mr. Thorne, since you brought it up, would you care to explain to the others what it is?”
Dominik’s throat worked, and he swallowed hard. Why did I say that? he thought, eyes flicking down at his desk before settling back on the board.
“A mating gift,” he began, voice low but carrying, “is a deeply personal item chosen by the male, or males, in a bond to present to the female. It signifies that she owns his, or their, hearts… if she so chooses to accept the gift.”
The room was silent, every student leaning in slightly, absorbing each word.
“Excellent,” Liora said, stepping closer to the board, her voice smooth, commanding yet full of warmth. “To build on that eloquent explanation: if the female chooses to wear the gift, she is deliberately saying she’s accepting the bond. She’s accepting to own her mates.”
Anabelle’s mind screeched to a halt at the word own. Her pen paused mid-note, her stomach twisting into tight knots. Own? She thought, repeating the word in her mind. Does he… does that mean…?
Hands shot up almost immediately after Liora’s statement, the class buzzing with curiosity.
“Yes?” Liora said, pointing to one of the students.
“If they already have the mark, why wear the gift?” the student asked, voice cautious but inquisitive.
Liora smiled faintly, turning to write on the board as she spoke.
“The mark is a byproduct of the bond. It is by no means an acceptance. In most cases, because males are the ones overridden by their instincts to love, protect, and serve, they present their gift. The gift is merely a representation of their hearts. It symbolizes that they are physically handing over their hearts to their other half.”
The words hang in the air. Anabelle’s pen dropped from her fingers, clattering softly on the desk. She felt her heart hammering in her chest, her thoughts spinning in a dizzying loop.
Oh my fucking gods, she whispered internally, mind reeling.
Her chest tightened as she thought of her mark, the small, intimate trace on her inner thigh, the implications swirling in her mind.
She took a shallow breath, trying to steady herself, but it was impossible.
Every neuron in her body felt alive, buzzing, aware.
She barely noticed Dominik shifting beside her again, his hand brushing the desk in a small, almost imperceptible motion, but it was enough to ground her slightly.
The room remained silent, the students frozen in their own processing of Liora’s words. Anabelle stared at the board, heart hammering, mind racing, as the implications of the mating gift, and what it truly meant, slowly, terrifyingly sank in.
Everything… everything about this bond, the rules, the expectations…
it’s not just theory. It’s real. She realised with surprising clarity, that there’s was no way that was simple birthmark.
So... that truly meant that she had someone out there for her.
Someone who would one day want to love, protect and ...
she gulped.... serve her. That one day they’d expect her to own their hearts.
Jesus Fucking Christ.