Chapter 9

Freya's POV

"Go to him," my wolf's voice echoed repeatedly in my head. I tried to move, but my dumb legs decided to become stuck with the ground. What was wrong with me?

“Mate,” he said again, softer this time. "Mate." He said repeatedly while walking to me. He had on a faded jean with a shirt that had dirt on it. With the gloves on his hand, I guessed he'd been working maybe in the farm or garden.

His strong jaw, dark eyes that held something deep, something broken but kind. His hair was scattered too, but I liked it just the way it was. He was perfect for me.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just reached out and pulled me into his arms, holding me tight like he'd finally found that which was lost. I didn't argue.

Time passed, but we stayed there wrapped in each other's arms, not wanting to let go. Reluctantly, we pulled back, taking a good look at one another. We were mates!

“I’m Freya,” I finally got the words out. I brushed my hair behind my ear and pointed towards my small cottage. "I just moved to the pack...a newbie." Why did I start to laugh anyhow?

I was dying from second hand embarrassment, but he was amused which made me feel better, a bit.

He looked at me like he wanted to say something, for some reason best known to him, he decided not to.

“I’m Al—” He paused, then cleared his throat, chasing a bee that was buzzing in his face. “Orson. I’m Orson.” he introduced himself.

He stretched forth his hand for a handshake. He'd thought I was hesitating because his hand was dirty, so he quickly cleaned it on his trousers.

"Sorry about that." I shook his hand. He didn't let go immediately, neither did I. God, the way he was looking at me made me weak in the knees.

Everyone has at least a secret that was best kept, so I didn't push him. His life was none of my business, that's why I didn't bother to ask why he had stalled for a bit.

It was the sound of the leaves as a deer passed that made me leave his hand.

“Do you… have family here?” I asked gently. "Or do you live around here too?

His face darkened a little like I'd said something wrong, making me berate myself inwardly. “No. I lost them. I’d rather not talk about it.”

“I understand,” I whispered. "Sorry."

He smiled. "What about yours?"

“I lost mine too.”

He looked at me with a strange softness then. Like he could really see through me—not just what was on the outside but the broken part of me.

For a few seconds, we were quiet and my eyes were everywhere but on him. It was so awkward to say the least. Maybe I should just go home.

I suddenly felt small, insecure before him. My fingers played with the hem of my sweater, while I felt his eyes burning into me like he was trying to find out more about me.

Maybe he was thinking of how to reject me, stupid me thought. Why else would he be so quiet? "Girl, you need to stop thinking about rubbish." My wolf growled at me.

“I understand if…" I stuttered a bit. "If you want to reject me,” I said quietly, not meeting his eyes. “You don’t have to feel pressured to accept me."

I lifted my head, but kept my eyes on his chest. I mean, I’m not… I’m not much. I’ve been through a lot, and most men wouldn’t even look at me twice.” I wasn't saying any of this to gain sympathy, I hated pity parties. Just stating painful facts.

His head tilted slightly. “Why would you think that?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Because that’s what life has taught me.” I answered. "So just do it, let's part ways." My wolf snapped at me for saying such nonsense.

“I’m not rejecting you, Freya,” he assured me. “I don’t have any reason to." He smiled.

"But the choice isn’t mine alone to make. It’s yours too. You get to decide if you want to accept me.” He caressed my cheek with his thumb.

I stared at him, heart thudding again. At this rate, I'd just give myself a heart attack. The look in his eyes was so real. In them, I saw no lies, no pressure. Just a quiet kind of honesty. It undid something in me.

Even Jasper didn't make me feel this way. At this point, I'd have to slap myself hard across the face in order to forget that bastard.

My throat tightened, and I nodded slowly. “Then… I, Freya," My wolf was already jumping once more, "accept you, Orson, as my mate.”

His lips curled into a small smile, the kind that reached his eyes. “And I, Orson, accept you, Freya. Though I was hoping you’d do it first.”

We both laughed lightly. The tension between us broke, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like running. I felt seen, wanted and maybe genuinely loved—though that was a scary word I wasn’t ready to say yet.

With what I had been through, I couldn't let it happen again, but Orson's words felt genuine. The look in his eyes, and the warmth in his touch told me he was my fated mate.

We sat down together on the porch steps after that. We didn’t talk much, just sat close, our shoulders touching. It felt… peaceful. Like the world had gone quiet just for us.

I didn’t know what the future would hold. I didn’t know what he was hiding, or what was coming.

Didn't know anything about him aside from his name, and the fact that he had a garden. As he spoke, I just stared, lost in his charming nature. I had to pinch myself to be sure I wasn't dreaming.

But for that moment, I let myself believe it was okay to feel this. To hope again, to believe that every disappointment was a blessing.

To trust that maybe this time, I wouldn’t end up broken.