The Mating Run by Leeka

Chapter 46

Safe

So, here I am, watching Victor scratch his head in confusion, wondering out loud why his claiming bite didn’t work.

“Something’s not right.”

And honestly, I can’t help but laugh. It’s like watching a magician who messed up a trick, and now everyone is left wondering what went wrong. But in this case, the trick was supposed to be some mystical bond, and all I got was a painful reminder of my naivety.

He mutters something about it not working as expected, and Zeke, always the voice of reason, asks if Victor even bothered to read the pamphlet. I can’t contain my laughter at this point. The pamphlet, the one that probably no one reads until things go south.

Classic.

But then Zeke drops a bombshell. The trackers inside us aren’t just trackers- they’re pheromone inducers. And apparently, every single thing in the field was a pheromone inducer. I try to wrap my head around it.

I can’t decide whether to be relieved that there’s no mystical bond or irritated that Victor literally took a bite out of me. It’s absurd, and I find myself laughing again. Maybe it’s the sheer ridiculousness of the situation or the fact that life has a way of turning expectations into a chaotic mess.

Victor looks like he’s about to say something, but Zeke beats him to it.

“You’re a f**king idiot, that’s what you are.”

Zeke declares, and for a moment, I appreciate the simplicity of his words.

No sugarcoating, just a straightforward assessment of the situation.

Safe

I look at Zeke, and we share a moment of understanding. The absurdity of it all hangs in the air like a punchline to an inside joke.

Victor finally speaks, his voice a mixture of frustration and confusion.

“But the claiming bite is supposed to create a bond!”

He protests, as if the universe owes him an explanation. I roll my eyes. The universe doesn’t owe anyone anything, especially not an explanation for failed magical bonds.

Zeke shakes his head, a bemused smile on his face.

“Did you even read the pamphlet?”

He asks, his tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. It’s a rhetorical question at this point. Who reads the pamphlet until everything falls apart?

Zeke explains the intricacies of Hunters and Hiders, and how Victor’s claim was nothing more than a physical act with no mystical repercussions. I feel a strange mix of relief and irritation.

at me, his expression a mix of confusion

have automatically triggered a cosmic connection. I can’t help but shake

of her flesh, Victor. That’s all you did. Congratulations, you

my being, a release of pent–up tension and absurdity. Victor’s face contorts with a mix of embarrassment and anger. It’s a priceless

tears of laughter, realizing that in this moment, I’ve found

liberation. Liberated from the expectations of cosmic bonds and magical connections. Liberated from the weight of Victor’s failed attempt at claiming. It’s like a weight lifted off my shoulders, replaced by

Zeke tears a piece

says, his

glance at him, confusion etched on my face. Why?

faintness. But Zeke doesn’t answer immediately. Instead,

backward, his hand flying to his nose, blood trickling between his

low and

care of her

words hang in the air, a palpable threat that adds another layer of tension. to the already charged atmosphere.

mix of gratitude and confusion.

he sees my

my skin as I press it onto the bleeding wound. The pain intensifies, but Zeke’s presence is a reassuring constant. I steal a glance at Victor, who’s still recovering from Zeke’s

care.

Safe

feel a twinge of vulnerability. But then he returns with a water bottle, offering it

sips, the water providing a momentary respite from the throbbing pain. Zeke watches me, his eyes a mix of

into a fog

in the disorienting swirl of sensations. “Come on, I need

a dark pool. The pain in my neck throbs, a persistent reminder of Victor’s reckless actions. Zeke’s hand is on my shoulder, a steadying presence in the midst of chaos. I want to ask him what’s happening, why

Zeke’s voice is firm, a lifeline in the growing

and the growls intensify. It’s a cacophony that mirrors the chaos within me.

Victor scoff, his

declares, dismissive and callous. “Just f**k off and

His words guide me through the disorientation. I try to nod,

the ominous sounds in

fingers. But i cling to Zeke’s voice, the anchor that keeps me

melody that surrounds us. I want to ask Zeke what’s happening, why everything feels like it’s

to it, drawn to the metallic tang that hangs in the wind. And now, as I feel the warmth trickling down my neck, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve

like a hunter on high alert. We’re not alone. I know it. The

blood like moths to a flame. In those stories, the protagonist is warned not to bleed, not to become prey to the

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