I am the Unwanted Mate

I used a towel to dry my hair a bit as I stood in front of the mirror after my shower. Football was my love, my passion. But sweaty jerseys were something I just couldn't handle, and I had to take a shower after every game. I was a clean freak like that.

I gelled my hair into the perfect spike, sprayed on some cologne that drove all the girls crazy, and pulled on a simple v-neck shirt that showed off my toned chest. I was getting ready to head out when my phone pinged with a message. Initially, I ignored it, assuming it was some girl I had been with before, asking to come over. But this time, I decided to check, just in case she had sent nudes.

To my surprise, it wasn't from a girl. It was my best friend Thiago, informing me about a party.

I sighed and slipped my phone into my pocket. Despite the exchange with Thiago, I couldn't shake off the feeling that this party was going to be a drag. But hey, a party was a party, and there was always a chance of meeting new people. Maybe there would be some attractive girls there, even if I wasn't planning on hooking up with them again.

I grabbed my keys and headed out the door, leaving behind my thoughts of one-night stands and focusing on the evening ahead. Deep down, beneath my carefree and promiscuous exterior, there was a part of me that craved genuine connections. Maybe this party would surprise me and offer something more than just another conquest.

I playfully sent him an insult and shook my head in amusement. That's what best friends do—insult and tease each other mercilessly. But when someone else tried to say anything negative to either of us, we would go all ballistic and defensive. It was a dynamic we had perfected over the years.

Thiago had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. We were inseparable even as kids, always causing mischief and pushing each other's limits. We were like the Alpha and Beta, working together to run the pack in the best way possible.

I opened my bedside drawer and grabbed a few condoms, tucking them securely into my jeans. Picking up my phone, I grinned at myself. I had a party to attend, and who knows what the night had in store for me.

°•°•°•°

"So, are you officially turning into a nun now?" Thiago, the witty bastard, said as he slid onto a chair next to mine.

I rolled my eyes and playfully flipped him off. "Just because I haven't found a cute butt to grind into yet doesn't mean I won't."

"Yeah, right. All you've done since you got here is drink and stare into space," he remarked, raising an eyebrow.

I took a sip of my third beer, contemplating his words. He had a point. I hadn't even made an effort to flirt with anyone yet.

When I arrived at the party, my intentions were clear—get laid. But now I found myself brooding in a corner, as if my favorite bitch had died or something.

"I don't know, man. My wolf is feeling off tonight," I confessed honestly. My wolf, Carson, was never thrilled at the idea of me hooking up with random people. To him, it felt like infidelity to a future mate and all that sentimental stuff, but I didn't care.

Today, however, something was different. Instead of incessantly whining about not having a mate, Carson seemed restless and eager, searching for something.

God knows what was wrong with him. It was as if he sensed something in the air, some hidden scent that piqued his curiosity. But what it was, I couldn't say.

I shrugged off the peculiar feeling and took another sip of my beer. Tonight was about letting loose, enjoying the party, and who knows, maybe even finding someone worth breaking my one-night stand rule for.

Thiago had a momentary concerned expression on his face, which quickly transformed into a teasing one. But before he could say anything, his name was called from behind, and he turned to look.

A girl wrapped her arms around his neck, whispering something seductive into his ear. Thiago immediately smirked and gave me a triumphant look.

I rolled my eyes. This was definitely the girl he was going to hook up with tonight. She fit his usual type perfectly—curved ass and perky boobs.

We often went for the same kind of girls, but the difference was that I preferred tall girls while he preferred shorter ones.