Oddly Fated Mates: Freya and Atticus

Chapter One

Freya

Today is the day my life ends. Or so everyone is hoping. Today is my 21st birthday, my Lunar Cycle, the day I gain my fate mark and begin the transition into my place among the Moonstar Pack. The day I lose my freedom.

But right now, I have a few measly hours of that freedom left, and I plan to spend them kicking Brutus' ass.

My feet shuffle to the right as I dodge Brutus' ongoing punch.

But he quickly regains his balance and growls under his breath before lunging forward and pushing me to the ground. "Stop dodging, girlie." He smirks, knowing the nickname drives me insane.

He's pushing all his weight on me, pinning me to the floor, not letting me up. I can't move my hands, arms, legs, torso, or feet. But there is one part of me he's forgotten about. Taking a deep breath, I throw my forehead into his with as much force as I can.

A resounding crack echoes across the training grounds.

"Ah!" His grip loosens as he whips a hand to the bridge of his nose and it comes back bloody.

Not wasting time, I shove his bulky weight off me and jump to my feet.

"What the hell, Freya?" He rubs his injured nose. "You broke my nose!" Blood pours from his nostrils in a steady stream, painting the dusty floor a dark red.

"Well, you should know better than to antagonise me!" I bring my fists back to my center and widen my stance. "Ready to give in?"

He scoffs but pulls his hand away from his nose and wipes the blood off his chin. "Not on your life," he snarks, "girlie."

My fists curl tighter as frustration ebbs at my stretched mind. How many times am I going to have beat this asshole to prove I'm not a "girlie"?

Here's to hoping my fated mate isn't as annoying as this prick.

His slick black hair falls from its perfectly gelled place and curls down his forehead, resting on his green fate mark that curls around his right eyebrow and down to the bottom of his eye socket. I remember when he turned twenty-one and had his Lunar Cycle, the moon painting girlish green hearts in swirls and waves across his face. He wasn't happy. That was three years ago, and he's still not found a matching mark among our pack or the surrounding neighbour packs.

I swing a fist toward him with a smirk. "I'd probably be throwing insults if I had hearts on my face, too."

He dodges my fist and grabs it with both hands.

Shit.

Brutus yanks me over his shoulder and sends me hurtling to the floor.

The wind rushes out of me as pain lances across the shoulder I landed on. "Fuck."

"Yield?" Brutus asks with a smile in his voice.

A smile I want to rip right off his face. "Not even clos—"

"Freya!" A sound I've learned to ignore pierces my fine mood, sending tremors of hate and disgust dancing up my spine, reminding me that today is not the usual good day of training. "Freya, the High Matriarch wants to see you."

Not looking his way, I return to face Brutus, who's not sure what to do now.

His eyes stare daggers in my back, and I want nothing more than to yank them out and shove them through that asshole's skull.

Atticus grabs my shoulder from behind with a soft sigh. "C'mon, Freya. Stop being a child."

"I am training," I grit through tense teeth.