Fated Doesn’t Mean Chosen

His mother's words seemed to jolt Damon back to reality.

He remembered that year, when another wolf had shown interest in me.

In his panic, he lost control of his powers, stole the family's moonstone heirloom bracelet in the middle of the night, and ran to my house.

He knelt on the floor, crying and begging me to wear the bracelet that would resonate with our powers.

Now, he tugged at his tie, took a deep breath, and forced a smile.

"I overreacted."

"I… I don't take back gifts. You can keep it."

"It's fine. I'll return it to you. I'll go home and get it now," I said calmly.

Before anyone could react, I left.

When I returned with the bracelet and pushed open the main door, a chorus of welcomes caught me off guard.

"Welcome..." Damon froze the moment he saw me. "What are you doing here?"

He clearly hadn't expected me to come back, much less that I would actually return the bracelet.

A flash of disbelief crossed his face.

Finally, he took it and leaned in to whisper through our mind-link, "Avalon, we've always been good. Do me a favor. Don't make a scene today."

"Gritte is sensitive. Don't say anything that might upset her."

I couldn't be bothered to answer.

I looked at the wolf I had loved my entire youth, the cold in my chest almost consuming me.

Ten minutes later, Gritte and her family arrived at the Hawthorne estate.

The elders quickly fell into conversation, getting along exceptionally well.

Meanwhile, Damon sat beside Gritte.

He was doting on her, anticipating her every desire.

He was almost thirty, yet now he was like a nervous teenager on his first date.

With nothing to do, I decided to slip away quietly.

But just then, Gritte suddenly turned to me, a gentle smile on her face.

"So, you're Avalon."

"I've heard a lot about you."

"You're that rare visionary painter, right?"

Caught off guard, I waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, no, you're too kind."

I didn't want to chat with her, but she seemed to have other ideas.

She continued, "Don't say that. I remember the painting you showed at the festival. The next day, it was surrounded by flowers!"

Before I could respond, she playfully tugged on Damon's arm and asked, "You two grew up together, right?"

"I always thought you two would end up together. Everyone thought so."

All eyes turned to me.

Although her tone was gentle, her words had a sharp edge that made me uncomfortable.

"Her?" Damon chuckled softly, handing Gritte a slice of honeydew melon.

"To you, she might be an artist, maybe even a goddess."

"But to me, she's just a packmate. My best friend."

He suddenly laughed as if remembering something funny.

"You should have seen her as a kid."

"During her first shift, she couldn't control her form at all and just rolled around in the mud like a little mud ball."

"And the first time she tried to paint a wolf, her focus suddenly shattered and she almost drove her inner wolf mad. The way she was flailing her paintbrush around was hilarious."

"I'm leaving," I said sharply, cutting him off before my temper snapped.

I turned to the elders. "Everyone, please enjoy the rest of your evening."

Gritte shot Damon an awkward glance and asked softly, "Did I say something wrong? I hope I didn't upset her."

Damon glared at me as if I were the one who had ruined the mood.

Before he could speak, I said flatly, "I have a date with my mate-to-be tonight, and I don't want to be late."