My Mate Can't be a Bird! (I swear I'm not into that kind of stuff)

1: Soul Connection with a "Homeless Hawk"

Varese, Wendlyn.

Calaena

Calaena Sartothien was lying on a rooftop wallowing in grief and angst and general apathy.

Varese, Calaena mused, was too good. The people were too rutting good. The guards were too good! The damned crown prince was far from a coward like her, and so gods-damn beloved by everyone, and--and...good! She knew she couldn't attack Galan, not after seeing how much people rutting loved him.

Caught up with her predicaments about Galan, the Ashryvers, the Wrydkeys, the King of Adarlan, the stupid hawk on the rooftop that couldn't even catch its own damn lunch, she huffed a breath and stuck her tongue out at the sky. At all the intangible problems she had. At stupid Galan and his stupidly perfect country. At the stupid King of Adarlan. At the entire rutting world!

She even turned to the white-tailed hawk and stuck out her tongue again just for good measure, before something made her shoot up standing and freeze, mouth open and all.

It was a cold sensation, a hot sensation, truly indescribable, to be honest. It was like a thread of fate, unbreakable, utterly inevitable. And as she stared, shocked and mortified, at the tawny-eyed hawk on the chimney she knew from the depths of her heart and soul. That the bird was--it was--

"--Impossible!"Calaena screeched. After hours of no talking, she sounded like a banshee. The hawk cocked its head and fixed its tawny gaze on her.

"You," She slurred her words, pointing to the hawk with her empty wine bottle, "you're--but..."

She frowned.

Calaena was drunk and hungry and confused and at a loss of words after the mating bond had made itself clear, which was what she'd blame her next rambling words and actions on: "I swear to the damned gods. I'm not into birds or dogs or any other animals. I mean like fuck how'd that even work with a rutting bird oh rutting gods the logistics are motherfucking insane I don't even want to think about--"

The bird gave an indignant squawk. Then it took off towards her, and Calaena fell onto her ass in fright. If she was anything but a trained assassin, she'd have fallen to the cobbled streets below, but she managed to keep that much of her balance, at least. There was a flash of light, then standing over her was the most perfect, handsome, tall, muscular silver-haired fae male she had ever seen or would see in her entire life. He had a wicked tattoo that sucked out all the sunlight on the side of his face, and emanated such intimidating power. She didn't know a thing about this man but he was absolutely gorgeous, the epitome of perfection and everything she'd never knew she wanted--no, needed! Her mate.

Oh gods.

He'd seen her in this filthy state. She only had a few gorgeous features dammit! And now he probably thought she was an ugly ruffian or common whore. She was filthy, but she was also filthy rich dammit! Curse the gods! And her rotten luck! Curse everyone in this world! And curse her mate for finding her at a time like this--No! Not him, never him; he's perfect, Calaena thought uncharacteristically, and I will exterminate anyone who says otherwise.

Then she looked, really looked at his face, beyond his sensuous mouth and wickedly sharp canines and perfect cheekbones and beautiful pine-green eyes (it was admittedly a little difficult to do so, but she managed), and realized he was snarling.

Then her mate spoke his first words to her. "Get up."

He said it in the common tongue, and his accent was slight and his voice was absolutely lovely, a soft purr on each word. Calaena tried not to swoon. She'd be more than happy to listen to her gorgeous mate's voice every minute of every day. But you couldn't do that if you fainted and fell from the rooftops and died now, could you, she told herself.

Her mate repeated the words, louder this time. "Get. Up."

She blinked, processing the meaning of the words he'd uttered. Slowly, so as not the hurt her poor backside, she stood up. And swayed like the drunk she was.

Her mate sighed and she knew she'd disappointed him, just like she'd disappointed everyone else in her life.

He ran a hand through his shining silvery hair and spoke again. "How drunk are you?" His voice was just as beautiful as all the other times he'd spoken. "I have been sent to escort you to..."

The rest of his words faded out and Calaena swooned for real this time, welcoming the inky blackness. The last sensation she felt was her mate's arms as he caught her, saving her from a sure death.

A/N: Talk about a horrible first meeting xD This was supposed to be a oneshot but I'm thinking of making it a few chapters longer. what do you think?

Please vote and leave a comment!