The Mating Run by Leeka

Chapter 44

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Confessions, you know, I’ve had my fair share of them.

Whispered words, stolen glances, promises lingering in the air like fragile threads waiting to snap. I’ve danced in the realm of crushes, dipped my toes in the waters of fleeting affections, but none of it ever felt right. It’s like trying to fit pieces of a puzzle together, forcing them to connect when they just don’t click.

I’ve dated a few guys, shared laughter and secrets, held hands in the moonlight.

Yet, it always felt like I was watching someone else’s story unfold, like I was an outsider peering into a world that didn’t quite belong to me. The words of affection sounded hollow, the gestures devoid of the depth I craved. It was all surface–level, like scratching the surface of a vast ocean without ever diving into its depths.

There were confessions, genuine ones, I suppose. Sweet words whispered under the stars, promises of forever that evaporated like morning dew. I tried to reciprocate, to feel the warmth of those confessions seeping into my soul, but it was like trying to grasp smoke with bare hands–elusive and intangible.

Crushes came and went, like passing clouds casting fleeting shadows. I’d catch. myself daydreaming, imagining a connection that went beyond the superficial exchanges. Yet, when reality struck, those crushes proved to be mere illusions, dissipating like mist in the morning sun. I felt like an echo in an empty room, my confessions bouncing off the walls, unheard and unanswered.

It’s not that I didn’t want love.

I yearned for it, ached for a connection that went beyond the surface, a bond that echoed in the chambers of my heart.

But with each failed attempt, each relationship that crumbled like a fragile. sandcastle, I became more convinced that love, true love, was an elusive creature, always just out of reach.

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That’s why I joined the Mating Run.

It wasn’t some desperate attempt to escape loneliness or an Impulsive decision made in the heat of the moment. It was a conscious choice, a deliberate step into the unknown. The Mating Run held the promise of something raw, something real.

No more whispered confessions that melted like sugar in the rain.

No more half–hearted connections that left me yearning for more.

I didn’t want the High Council Elders to hand me a partner like a gift–wrapped package, someone whose heart didn’t beat in sync with mine. I craved a connection that was forged in the crucible of survival, where every shared breath and every stolen glance held the weight of significance.

It was my way of saying, “I won’t settle for something that doesn’t set my soul on fire.”

to stave off loneliness. I wanted to find someone who understood the language of scars, someone who had tasted the bitterness of defeat and the sweetness of victory. The Mating Run was a canvas painted

throat as Victor’s taunts

refute his statement, to deny any romantic feelings and put ant end to

through me, a peculiar mix

reveling in the discomfort he’s caused, laughs and

and a sense of vulnerability

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that seem to escalate

I tense, uncertain of his intentions. The sensation is unsettling, and I can’t help but feel a surge of fear. Zeke, however, growls at Victor, a low and menacing sound

undeterred by Zeke’s warning, licks my

me feeling exposed and vulnerable. I glance at Zeke,

remains locked in a silent

the thought of me having a

growl deepens, a warning that goes unheeded. His gaze never wavers from Victor, a silent challenge that seems to intensify the simmering tension. I catch a

anger? Jealousy? Or

licks my neck again, his eyes locked onto

just got a whole

“V–Victor–Stop-!”

be careful; someone might just

at his sides. The tension between them escalates, a volatile energy that threatens to erupt at any moment. I find myself torn between the conflicting forces, unsure of where I

again, his lips brushing against my ear. “Enjoy the show,

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Zeke to deny any romantic feelings, to put an end to this twisted game, but his silence speaks louder than words. A peculiar rush courses through me, a strange mix

strange, unnameable thrill. He tilts my head to the side, exposing my neck, and

mix. Yet, here we are, navigating the unpredictable currents of whatever this is. It’s confusing, you know? I

was nothing. It’s not like I expected a grand declaration of love or anything, but a simple “No” would have sufficed. Instead, he met my gaze with a silence that spoke volumes. And

each other like there’s some invisible thread tying us together. We tried to kill each other, for crying. out loud. It’s not the

dark novel.

walking on two legs. Every reason we shouldn’t be together makes more sense than any reason we should. It’s like staring at a puzzle

here we are, sharing glances that linger a moment too long. It’s like the universe has a sick sense of humor, pairing two adversaries

expected.

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