The Alpha's Blind Fate
Chapter 74: Fate. Hate. Mate.

Chapter 74: Fate. Hate. Mate.

ZINA

Zina’s body felt lighter when she came to. A probable sign that she was no longer in wolf form. The only problem was that her mind was such a grainy mess that she hardly remembered anything.

The mere act of thinking, or recollecting forgotten memories for that matter, slammed within her a fierce headache. So she stopped trying.

Where was she? And who was she?

Somehow, she knew those questions weren’t as important as the lingering fact that her body had undergone such a brutal change in the last twenty-four hours. Even if she didn’t remember anything, the agony that was still palpable through her body was not one she could easily forget.

And of those changes was the fact that her eyes were wide open, taking in her surroundings.

Perhaps she was in heaven, or perhaps it was hell.

She squinted repeatedly like a newborn, the light harsh against her eyes. She realized with a start that seeing was really nothing too special. It was quite painful.

In her state of temporal memory loss, she knew it that she was one who was without sight and could now see. She wondered how she had lived, but knew without a doubt that despite how hard her disability had proved to be... she had lived well.

Where was she?

It seemed like she was sprawled on a rock surface, her brain began to interpret, her senses even sharper. She stood a bit upright as she tried to take in her surroundings. It smelt of forestry and green so she must be in a forest somewhere. As far as her senses could stretch, it seemed she was alone. That was until....

Scrunch came the snapping of twigs as footsteps started approaching her. Somewhere between her neck and shoulders tingled as the approaching presence seemed familiar.

Despite the pain that rooted her body in place, she attempted to turn and behold who it was, but an even fiercer light caught her eyes harshly. She squinted again, her palm coming up to shield her eyes.

Who was it?

Even without seeing the person, every nerve of her body was alive in his presence and they screamed for him to different tunes. Her heart squeezed tightly to an emotion that bordered between pain and hate. The place between her legs clenched to a sensation Zina didn’t want to name. And goosebumps ghosted over her skin at every step the man took.

Finally, he was out of the sun and before her.

Zina’s shut eyes wanted to remain glued so for some strange reason, but curiosity and careless need won over as her eyes flew open. At the same time, they widened from shock and a spasm of surprise as it took in the man before him.

Words eluded her. Perhaps it was because of her memory loss, for whatever word could possibly describe a god?

His presence was overwhelming, a blend of raw power and ethereal grace. His face was a masterpiece of divine craftsmanship, with high cheekbones that cast delicate shadows under the dim light. His eyes, a piercing shade of molten turbulent black, seemed to hold the secrets of the universe, glinting with an otherworldly wisdom and intensity.

His hair, a cascade of midnight black, framed his face perfectly, contrasting sharply with his pale, flawless skin. Each strand seemed to shimmer with a life of its own, and the locks fell all the way to his shoulders, some of it obstructing his face in a way that could only be termed delicious.

His lips, full and perfectly sculpted, held a hint of a smirk, as if he was privy to a joke that no one else could understand. He wore a dark, regal attire that clung to his muscular frame, adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and change with the light. His presence proved to be both a comfort and a torment to Zina.

Zina could only stare, her breath caught in her throat, as the man before her seemed to blur the lines between reality and dream. It felt like she had seen this man before but was only truly seeing him now...it felt like she had always known the man, and yet was only truly knowing him now.

The man stared blankly at her, his face devoid of any emotions, and Zina wondered if that was intentional on his part, or an act that came naturally to him.

"Who are you?" Zina asked in a scratchy voice while looking up to his very tall frame, for that was the only question that made sense to ask. "Who am I?" She added more like a question to herself.

The man leaned down until their heights were the same. It was then that Zina noticed the water gourd in his hand.

"How to answer you...." He drawled, trailing off.

Zina was stunned again. Even if she had not heard many voices, she was sure that this man’s voice was one that could move mountains as much as it moved hearts. It caressed her, almost causing her to shut her eyes and revel in the velvet masculinity of it.

Those molten, dark eyes that somehow shimmered rested squarely on her amusedly. "We are simply two people united by fate and divided by hate. But now, we have been finally brought back together as mates."

Before Zina could stop herself, she thought; Are you a poet? If so, can I be your poem? Can I be the only words that your well proportioned lips can say?

Fate.

Hate.

Mate.

Those words rang true for whatever could have existed, and now exists between her and that man. Especially the word mate. The thing in her had been screaming the word but she didn’t understand it other than the tug that came with it. A tug that most certainly tugged at her soul and her all.

"So we are mates?" Her voice scratched again at the question. Her eyes darted to the water gourd he held, and his eyes followed.

He handed it to her as he rubbed his hands on his face and against the locks of hair tousled against it. The gesture seemed like that of frustration and something else Zina didn’t understand. Ignoring him, she gulped the water like her life depended on it. Well aware of the fact that he hadn’t answered the question she asked.

When she was done, she casted her face downwards, deep in thought. Try as she might, she couldn’t get past the block in her head that prevented her from accessing her memories. But maybe she didn’t need it, for she could very well feel all the emotions alive between her and the man.

So she asked instead, "Do we still hate each other?"

His response was merely a quirked eyebrow, raised at her in a manner that said, ’What do you think?’

Well, the only thing Zina could think of was the man’s lock of hair that was obstructing his eyes. Instinctively, her fingers reached up to part them away. She didn’t believe such exquisite eyes should be obstructed.

Her fingers brushed against his skin at the act, causing lightning to zap through her body. Her breath hitched in her throat at the shadows that swarmed beneath his eyes as he stared at her with a shocking intensity, and something told Zina that she wasn’t supposed to be doing this.

She didn’t get to see through the internal debate that was going on within her when a queasiness took over her. She was feeling faint, and her hand fell off from the man’s forehead, her eyes flickering shut as unconsciousness took over her.

Just as she slipped into yet another deep sleep, she heard urgent footsteps and voices hovering over them.