Chapter 005

Chloe's POV.

I was dreaming.

My body seemed to thrash about, tormented by the memories that refused to fade–

In the dream, I was sitting in the backseat, sandwiched between my parent’s warm smiles. I had dreamed of different ways my parents died before, but this was the first time I had a dream that they died in a car.

The car swerved, the tires screeched in protest like a cursed rat. My heart raced as the world outside became a blur.

“Get out, Chloe, GET OUT!” I heard Mum tell me.

I felt the weightlessness of weight, my stomach lurched as the car flipped, tossing Mum and Dad around like rag dolls.

Time slows, and I'm suspended in mid-air, watching the chaos unfold. “Mama! Dad!” I still didn't get any answer, I saw only blood, just blood…

But I was actually coming back to life, away from that nightmare. I jolted awake, the sheets drenched with sweat. “Mama? Dad?” I called. I was disoriented for a while until I started to make out where I was.

I realized I was in an unfamiliar room. The walls were soft grey, and the bed I was lying on was small. It could pass for a six-year-old girl's own. And the white curtains? They looked like they belonged in a fairytale story.

“Hello?” Insanity or Sanity? I was in an unfamiliar place and I was calling the attention of whoever brought me here. What if I was kidnapped?

I threw off the covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cold and hardwood, and I could see a faint glow emanating from downstairs.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly made my way downstairs. The stairs creaked beneath my feet, and I felt like I was announcing my presence to the entire house. As I reached the bottom, I saw him at the table.

A strange man. He was older, no doubt, maybe in his late forties or early fifties, and he had a kind face with one of the rarest eye colours – red.

The red eyes seemed to see right through me. His hair was grey and thinning, and his smile was gentle. But despite his kind appearance, I couldn't shake off the feeling of fear that was gripping my heart.

What was I doing with him? Who was he?

"You've woken up again," he says, his voice low and soothing. "How are you feeling now?"

I hesitated, unsure of what to say. I didn't know this man, no matter how kind he seemed. And I didn't know how I ended up here, in this strange house.

“Come sit with me.” He said.

I answered and I went to sit at the table, my eyes fixed on him. "You are safe now. I promise. You were attacked, but I got to you in time. You're going to be okay."

“Attacked?” I flinched at his words. I didn't remember anything about being attacked. The only feeling close to being attacked was the persistent throb in my head.

The man’s eyes filled with compassion as he continued, "My name is Marcus, I own a small restaurant I run myself. I was passing through town on my way back to the city when I heard your screams. I ran as fast as I could, and I managed to chase the guys who wanted to harm you away. You were unconscious, so I brought you to my house.”

Nice story to tell but I was still not convinced. As if sensing my doubts, Marcus smiled and said, "you are safe, I am not going to hurt you. Food?”

He gestured to the food in front of me, and I hesitated for a moment before picking up the spoon. It was chicken soup, and with the taste of it, I was a bit relaxed. The soup was warm and comforting.

"What...what happened to them?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Marcus's expression turned grim. "They ran off. But don't worry, I put up a good fight with them."

I nodded, feeling a small sense of relief. Who was I? Where was I from? How did I get to the place Marcus found me?

It was like I was about to solve a puzzle, but I had no idea which puzzle piece to pick.

***********A month later**********

“Come again, thank you.” I called after the woman who came to get bread in the restaurant.

It had been a month now, a month since I started staying with Marcus, and I was helping him out in his restaurant. I was also trying to save up some money for whatever I might decide to do with it.

That much I could do, while I tried to figure out who I was, and where my families were (if I had any to start with).

The door opened and I spun around, my apron fluttering behind me. “Good after–” The words died on my lips when I saw who it was.

I found myself staring at a blond-haired man with the prettiest blue eyes ever. His eyes scanned the room, locking onto mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat.

Damn! I felt a jolt of recognition, like I'd found a missing piece of myself. Everything in me screamed; Mate! Mate!

He approached the counter, his movements fluid and graceful, like a panther stalking its prey. His eyes never left mine, and I felt like he could see right through me.

"Good afternoon," he said, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping from a spoon. "I'll have the fillet mignon, medium rare, with a side of garlic mashed potatoes. And a glass of your finest Cabernet Sauvignon."

His words were ordinary, his orders were outrageous, but the way he spoke them was anything but ordinary.

Each syllable was like a caress, sending shivers down my spine. I felt like I was melting into his gaze, like butter under a warm sun.

“Uhm, we–” I was stammering, damn, why? I wanted to tell him we don't have those lavish orders he asked for. This was a ‘local’ restaurant.

But I stood there, transfixed, unable to talk and the man didn't acknowledge me beyond the order. No smile, no nod, no hint of recognition.

I felt a pang of disappointment, my mind reeled with questions I dared not ask. And when he kept looking at me, expecting me to say something, I asked the most unimaginable question.

“Will you be my mate?”

The man just looked at me, unable to say anything, although his blue eyes were slowly turning purple and I staggered backward, unaware of the boiling pot behind me.