Chapter 4 The Next Day
CHAPTER FOUR
the next day
CHEYENNE
Ihave a fated mate.
No matter how many times I’ve repeated that affirmation in my mind, some part of me still doesn’t fully believe it.
I didn’t think it was possible after being marked.
They say that if you’ve been marked by someone other than your fated mate, your fated bond dissolves away and you’ll never know who fate chose for you.
I’d already come to terms with that. As difficult as it was to accept, I made my peace with it.
I have a fated mate.
As a child, it was all I ever dreamed of.
I was obsessed with Disney princess movies; consumed with the idea of finding my one true love.
I likened myself to Cinderella, a fellow orphan who held out hope until her prince arrived to sweep her off her feet.
If it could happen for her, then why couldn’t it happen for me?
But instead of a prince, I dreamed of an Alpha wolf.
One who was tall and strong, as handsome as a Ken doll, and had the respect and admiration of his whole pack.
Coincidentally, I dreamed of a mate exactly like Iver Anderson.
I let go of that fantasy a long time ago, though. Two years, to be exact.
I often wonder if I could’ve fought harder; if I could’ve prevented what Alpha Paul did somehow.
As the leader of our pack, I trusted him when he called me into his room.
I went willingly, believing him when he said we needed to discuss something in private.
I never imagined the horrors I’d face when he locked that door.
The way I’d be forever changed by the time it opened again.
So much was stolen from me that night. My body, my innocence.
My dreams for an idyllic future filled with love and happiness.
My confidence, my self-worth… even my will to live.
I’ve tried to move past what happened, but I’m not the same girl I once was.
Sometimes I can barely remember what it felt like to be her; so idealistic and na?ve and full of hope.
I have a fated mate.
The strange thing about trauma is how it can make it difficult to accept when good things happen. This should be a good thing. It’s what I’d always dreamed of. What was it like to actually believe in happily-ever-afters?
I’ve been reeling since I returned home last night, but for the first time in a while, it wasn’t painful memories that kept me awake most of the night.
It was mental images of how the moonlight clung to Iver’s naked body as the bond between us snapped in; the earnestness in his blue-eyed gaze when he said that he wants this. That he wants me.
I have a fated mate, and he’s here, gently rapping his knuckles against the wooden door of my cabin.
My inner wolf sensed the moment he arrived, so I’m already waiting on the other side, my heart beating a riot in my chest as I reach for the knob and twist. Part of me wasn’t sure he’d actually show up.
Part of me wasn’t sure whether I wanted him to.
A swarm of butterflies erupts in my stomach when I pull the door open and see him standing there, looking far more gorgeous than any man has a right to be. His eyes are kind; his smile is friendly. Everything about him is warm and inviting, drawing me in like a moth to a flame.
“Hey Chey,” Iver greets, his grin widening to cheesy proportions.
God, he’s so freaking cute.
“Hey yourself,” I breathe, miraculously not sounding half as jittery and nervous as I feel. Pulling the door wider, I step aside to allow him entry. “Wanna come in?”
His eager expression says that he does, but he doesn’t step forward, pausing to tilt his head in consideration. “Is that alright?”
“I wouldn’t have asked you if it wasn’t,” I reply with a coy smile, waving him inside.
While the idea of being alone in a room with Iver at his packhouse was anxiety-inducing, this is different.
This is my space, where I have control over the environment.
I know where the exits are– front and back doors– and where the weapons are hidden– under my pillow, beneath the couch cushion, in the knife drawer.
Javi’s cabin is nearby, and I know he’d come running at the first sign of trouble. This is a safe place. My safe place.
“First things first, I need your phone number,” Iver drawls as he crosses the threshold into my home.
“I don’t have a phone,” I deadpan.
His brows shoot up. “What? Seriously?” he questions, blinking in confusion until he reads the teasing smirk on my lips. His own pull into a grin as he points a finger at me. “Ah, you almost got me there,” he chuckles.
My smirk deepens as I extend a hand toward him, palm up. “Give me yours, I’ll program my number in.”
He digs it out of his pocket and hands it over, closing the door behind him as I make quick work of adding my contact to his phonebook and shooting off a text to myself so I have his number, too.
Then I return his phone with a shy smile, those damn butterflies taking flight once again as he smiles back.
I turn away to hide my blush, wandering toward the nearby sofa. “Wanna come sit?”
These cabins on the fringes of the old ski resort aren’t very big, but they’re cozy. The open-plan layout is great for someone like me who hates feeling closed in, and compared to some of the places my nomadic pack holed up in over the years, this cabin is the pinnacle of luxury.
Iver responds in the affirmative and follows me over to the couch, both of us sinking down onto the worn cushions and settling in.
“So, what now?” I ask as I swivel his way, tucking a leg up underneath me.
“Well, you could start by telling me your life story,” he suggests.
I snort a laugh. “There’s not much to tell.”
He arches a brow in challenge and I heave a sigh, carding my fingers through my hair.
“I’ve been on my own since I was six, literally raised by a pack of wolves,” I say, winking.
“Javi’s the closest thing I have to family, and we’ve been through a lot together over the years.
Our pack moved around often, so no place has ever really felt like home, but it never bothered me that much.
I feel like it just made me more adaptable to change, ya know? ”
I shrug a shoulder, leaning back against the arm of the sofa. “Of course, that also means I couldn’t really hold down a regular job, so I started doing freelance photography gigs here and there. My camera’s the only thing I own that’s worth anything, Javi bought it for me.”
“So you’re a photographer?” Iver asks, hanging on my every word.
“Amateur photographer,” I clarify with a soft laugh. “I’m still building my portfolio, but what I’ve got so far is enough to pick up jobs here and there.”
“Damn, that’s really cool,” he replies with another one of those charming grins. “I’d love to see it sometime.”
There’s no hiding the blush that rises to my cheeks this time around. “Sure.”
“So, what do you do when you’re not taking pictures?” he asks, shuffling a little closer.
I wind a strand of hair around my finger. “Oh, the usual. Set wildfires, rob banks…”
“No way, I thought I was the only one!” he jokes.
I crack a smile, giggling softly. “Sadly, I don’t really have any other hobbies. Unless you count binge-watching reality competition shows.”
He arches a brow in interest. “Are you watching the new season of Survivor?”
“Of course,” I scoff. “Survivor is the pinnacle of reality competition TV.”
“Which tribe are you rooting for?”
“You first,” I challenge, lifting my chin.
Suddenly we’re lost in conversation, and it isn’t stilted or awkward.
It’s surprisingly easy to talk to Iver, like we’ve known each other for five years rather than five minutes.
He tells me that he was born and raised in Westfield.
He has three siblings– one older and two younger– and his parents are fated mates.
He likes spicy food, hates tequila, and has a paralyzing fear of heights.
All in all, things are going shockingly well– to the point where I lose track of time until we’re rudely interrupted by a knock at the door.
I snap my head in that direction as it swings open, Lo breezing inside with Javi right behind her.
“Hey, lovebirds,” she teases, grinning from ear to ear as her gaze slides between Iver and me. “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” I say, sitting up a little straighter.
“Just fine?” Iver asks, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk.
I roll my eyes, waving him off with a soft chuckle as I turn my attention back to Lo. “What’s up?”
“Just so you know, Andie already came up with a couple name for you two,” she informs us. “Cheyver.”
I cringe.
“Of course she did,” Iver mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Sorry, Chey, but my friends are a little bit insane.”
“A little?” I snort.
“I think Cheyver has a nice ring to it,” Javi cuts in, grinning smugly.
I shoot him a glare, which of course only makes his grin widen. Smug bastard. “Do you need something, or are you just here for another round of told ya so?” I grumble.
“Actually, I’m here for Iver,” he replies, shifting his gaze to the man beside me. “We have that council meeting at four, remember? I was gonna see if I could catch a ride with you.”
“Shit,” Iver hisses, stabbing his fingers through his hair. “Totally forgot about that.”
“Well, you have been a little preoccupied,” Lo teases, sticking out her tongue at him.
He makes a face back at her as he pushes up to his feet, swiveling to face me. “Sorry to have to cut this short,” he murmurs apologetically.
Damn, I didn’t expect to feel so disappointed when he had to leave.
“Hey, duty calls,” I shrug.
“I wanna see you again, though,” he quickly tacks on. “Soon.”
My lips curve in a smile. “You’ve got my number.”
“Well hey, we were gonna go out for dinner tomorrow night,” Javi says smoothly, hopping right into our conversation. “We could make it a double date.”
“Oh my gosh, yes!” Lo agrees enthusiastically.
I turn to look at them, narrowing my eyes suspiciously. There’s no way that this is just a random idea that popped into their heads– they definitely came here with an agenda, trying to play cupid.
Except fate already beat them to the punch.
“Yeah, I’m down if Chey is,” Iver remarks, falling right into their trap. He arches a brow at me questioningly, and I’m not sure I could say no if I tried.
I do want to see him again. And even though Javi and Lo shouldn’t be meddling, it does kinda take some of the pressure off to add more people into the mix on our first date.
“Okay, sure,” I breathe, smoothing my hair back as I push up from the couch. I don’t miss the conspiratorial glance that Javi and Lo exchange, pleased that their plan worked.
“You guys better get going,” Lo comments, glancing down at her watch.
“Chey, you good?” Javi asks, giving me a pointed look.
Love that he cares enough to check up on me, but it’s low key embarrassing in front of Iver.
“Fine,” I say, my cheeks heating in a blush as I glance back over at Iver. My mate.
I have a fated mate.
“I’m gonna hang here,” Lo declares, stepping around the couch and flopping down onto it. She’s clearly way too comfortable in my space. She shows up at my door often and invites herself in under the guise of ‘female bonding’.
We have bonded in a short time though, so I suppose it’s worked.
Iver takes a step toward me, and I instinctively take one of my own backwards, my heart leaping into my throat. His expression twists, but he quickly schools it and steps back, giving me my space. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Chey,” he drawls, lifting a hand in a little wave.
Damnit, I hate that I can’t just be normal.
“Tomorrow,” I nod, clasping my hands together in front of me and twisting my fingers together.
Iver beams me one last smile before turning away and following Javi to the door. I watch after him, my pulse quickening as I take in the way his muscles bunch and flex beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Is it suddenly hot in here?
He throws me a glance before stepping out the door, and when those baby blues lock with mine, my heart skips a beat.
That’s my fated mate.