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.”

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

nervously in my throat as Victor’s

end to this twisted game. But Zeke remains silent, his gaze

peculiar mix of confusion and something else I can’t quite grasp.

in the discomfort he’s caused, laughs

a shiver runs down my spine. He tilts my head to the side, exposing my neck, and a sense of vulnerability washes over me. The Mating Run has already thrust me into a nightmare, and now I’m entangled

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that seem to escalate with every passing

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

warning, licks my neck in a slow, deliberate

feeling exposed and vulnerable. I glance at Zeke, searching for some

a silent confrontation with Victor.

of me having a little taste?” Victor taunts, his words dripping with

that seems to intensify the simmering tension. I catch a glimpse of something in Zeke’s eyes, an emotion I

anger? Jealousy? Or something else entirely?

my neck again, his eyes locked onto

know, Alina, this game just got

“V–Victor–Stop-!”

showing, Zeke. Better be careful;

his fists clenched at his sides. The tension between them escalates, a volatile energy that threatens to erupt

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

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than words. A peculiar rush courses

a strange, unnameable thrill. He tilts my head to the side, exposing my neck, and the vulnerability of the position sends a shiver down

navigating the unpredictable currents of whatever this is. It’s confusing, you know? I look at

grand declaration of love or anything, but a simple “No” would

is that? Why did his lack of denial make my heart beat faster? It doesn’t make sense. Zeke and I, we’re not supposed to be here, looking at 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 stuff fairy tales are made of; it’s

dark novel.

I, we’re contradictions walking on two legs. Every reason we shouldn’t be together makes more sense than any reason we

early days of the Mating Run, a deadly 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

expected.

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