The Mating Run by Leeka

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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.”

wanted to find something worth meaning, something that would shatter the monotony of half–hearted connections. I didn’t want another relationship that felt like a placeholder, a convenient arrangement 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 with the brushstrokes of survival, and I was ready to embrace the chaos, ready to find a

as Victor’s taunts hang in the air.

statement, to deny any romantic feelings and put ant end to this twisted game. But Zeke remains silent, his gaze fixed on Victor

rush through me, a peculiar mix of confusion and

he’s caused, laughs and grabs my chin again.

is possessive, and a shiver runs down my spine. He tilts my head to the side, exposing my neck, and a sense of vulnerability washes over

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that seem to escalate with every passing

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

by Zeke’s warning, licks my neck in a slow, deliberate motion.

leaves me feeling exposed and vulnerable. I glance at Zeke, searching for some sign of reassurance

locked in a silent confrontation with

stand the thought of me having a little

that goes unheeded. His gaze never wavers from Victor, a silent challenge that seems to intensify the simmering

it anger? Jealousy? Or something

again, his eyes

know, Alina, this game just got a whole

“V–Victor–Stop-!”

crush is showing, Zeke. Better be careful; someone might just

tension between them escalates, a volatile energy that threatens to erupt at any

again, his lips brushing against my ear. “Enjoy the show, Alina. It’s only just begun.” he whispers, his voice

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than words. A peculiar rush courses

and I find myself teetering on the edge of fear and a strange, unnameable thrill. He tilts my head to the side, exposing my neck, and the vulnerability of the position sends a shiver down

fire and ice, two forces that shouldn’t mix. Yet, here we are, navigating the unpredictable currents of whatever this is. It’s confusing, you know? I look at him, and there’s this unspoken understanding, a

declaration of love or anything, but a simple “No” would have sufficed. Instead, he met my gaze with a silence that spoke volumes. And in that silence, my heart décided

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

dark novel.

of it all, to unravel the threads that connect us in ways I can’t comprehend. Zeke and I, we’re contradictions 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 with missing pieces, trying to fit them together when they

dance of survival that should have ended in bloodshed. I stabbed him, and he stabbed me, yet 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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