Surrendering to Destiny

Catherine pulled her rusty truck into the parking spot behind Gulf Breeze Farms and slammed the door shut with an ear-splitting creak. Hearing the familiar sound, Matt, the owner of the farm, peaked his head around the curtain and smiled.

“Catherine! So good to see you, as always,” he said with a wink.

“Hey, handsome,” she greeted.

Matt was older, probably in his seventies with liver spots, leathery skin from being out in the sun his whole life and grey hair but she loved to see his face turn red at the compliment every Saturday. His bright blue eyes sparkled and he sauntered over to her.

“What have you got for me this week?” she asked.

“Well it’s a good week for roots! Radishes, radishes, more radishes,” he said as he pointed to the cardboard boxes he’d piled up. “Got some cabbages for you, kale and a few other greens and…” He placed his palm on a large box. “Carrots, your favorite.”

“I love you, thank you!” she gushed getting to work to fill the back of the truck.

When she was finished she clapped her hands together and retrieved her purse from the cab to see what else she could find at the market. She turned around to find Matt right behind her, invading her personal space. She leaned back slightly.

“I have another surprise for you this week,” he chirped, presenting her a small box.

“Uh, thank you,” she said, sidestepping him. She took the box and noticed him scratching the back of his neck with nerves. His eyes bounced around the crowd of people. Catherine opened the box and shrieked in delight: oyster mushrooms. “Thank you, Matt!” she gushed, throwing her arms around his neck.

“How much?” she asked.

“No charge,” he assured her with a smile.

“Are… are you sure?”

“Your sale contract these past few years has kept my little farm afloat. If not for you, I would have been forced to close the farm down years ago. This is my way of saying thank you,” he told her.

She clutched the box to her chest. “Thank you.”

Matt continued to look nervous. “Don’t, don’t you want to try them now?” he asked.

“Oh, no not yet. I’d prefer to save them.”

“Oh, well, I mean, you should have at least one shouldn’t you?” he prodded, stepping closer again and urging the box upward.

Feeling a bit more than uncomfortable for the first time with the old farmer, Catherine excused herself saying she had some shopping to do. As she walked away, she felt Matt’s irritated gaze on her back and stifled a shiver.

The farmers market in downtown Sterling was one of her favorite places to be. Two rows of tents filled the town square. There were farmers, artisans, crafts, even a cotton candy vendor during the summer. She had shopped here every Saturday since she’d moved to Sterling five years ago. A few months after her move she was fortunate enough to find an opening for a chef at the Shepherd’s Bar and Grill where her friend worked as a bartender. Paul was the only person she’d spoken to about employment who couldn’t care less about her status as a rogue wolf. He only had one condition: don’t go up front while on duty.

Unfortunately the stigma that came with her rogue status clung to her like a dust cloud. Even now as she scanned the tents, she knew some of them would refuse her money because of it. A few of them had even spit at her in the past. It was their loss. She purchased all the food she’d need for the restaurant at this market, throwing out thousands every week. If they didn’t want to make a good chunk of change because she’d run from that prick, so be it.

She’d worked hard at the bar. When she was hired, it was known as a bar for shifters who could get drunk and be rowdy. The fact that the bar served food wasn’t even noticed. Soon after she started though, the grill side earned nearly as much as the bar. Between the hours of 2 pm and 10 pm every table was taken and plates were licked clean. It was a great source of pride for her. Catherine had even received requests from a few magazines and newspapers wanting to do a story on her. She always declined though. Any attention on her may catch his eye and she needed to do everything to make sure that didn’t happen.

After purchasing the meat for the week and promising to pick it up before she left, she ducked into Amherst’s Honey Hives to stock up. As Mike let her have a taste of his new wildflower honey she noticed a murmur sweep through the market. She stuck the popsicle stick in her mouth and glanced toward the street. Her heart lurched. Four black suvs pulled up to the curb. Was it him? Had he found her? The doors of the middle suv opened and Catherine quickly hid her face, pretending to have an otherworldly interest in the various honey sticks arranged around the table.

“Looks like there’s another meeting going down,” Mike whispered conspiratorially.

Catherine looked up to see him eyeing the men exiting the car. “Regulars around here?” she asked, hope blossoming.

He nodded. “Lycans.”

Catherine breathed a sigh of relief, earning a curious eyebrow raise from Mike. Lycans were not something to breathe easy about, despite the fact that Sterling neighbored one of the largest packs in the country. They were superior to wolves with a nearly immortal lifespan, heightened senses, innate intuition and far more lethal abilities. Catherine should know, she was half lycan herself. A rogue mutt… the worst of the worst in both circles. She brushed off Mike’s questioning gaze by picking out a honey stick, cracking it open and inhaling.

“Mmmm, apple and… is that clove?” she asked, looking up with a salivating mouth.

His brows furrowed even more. He glanced down at the stick. “That one is lavender.”

“Hm,” Catherine said, adding the stick to her pile of groceries.

She glanced around and stuck her nose higher in the air. Her knees wobbled at the delicious scent. She wanted to find it and add whatever it was to her menu

for the week. She stepped back and sniffed again. She turned her head in the direction of the scent and opened her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat and her entire body tingled.

Her eyes were drawn to the group of men walking away from the suvs. They were all well dressed and their strides ate up the sidewalk, clearly in a hurry to get somewhere. There were four men in the front. Two flanked somewhat behind the others. They were both lean with blond hair and scowls on their faces. She noticed tattoos peeking out from their suit jackets and one even had an image on his face.

One man walked in the middle of the group as if under their protection. He was huge. Built like a house, he stared down at his phone typing furiously away. He glanced up once and she gasped. His eyes… she had never seen anyone with the same genetic condition as her: Heterochromia. While she always wore a brown contact in her singular blue eye to avoid attracting unwanted attention, this man flaunted it, causing the women around him to gape at the rarity.

None of those men were who originally attracted her gaze though. No, the man with the delicious apple cider scent was the one leading the group. He pulled at the cuffs of his suit jacket and fidgeted with his collar. He was clearly unused to wearing a suit, though she wasn’t sure why when he looked so fine wearing it. He had to be around 6’3” at least. He was just her type with a lean body that undoubtedly hid well refined muscle. His strides were long and his dark eyes roamed the market they walked through as if on alert for any signs of danger. He ran his left hand roughly through his dark hair, causing some of the strands to fall over his forehead before he tried to resituate his collar again.

“Mate,” Catherine breathed into the wind. She snapped her mouth shut in shock. She had not meant to say that aloud. And she knew she had because the moment that word left her mouth, his head snapped in her direction.

Her mate became rooted to the spot, his arms still raised at an awkward angle behind his neck. Even from across the market she noticed his dark eyes turn pitch black in recognition. She gripped the tent pole beside her and felt the metal bend under the tension. Her mate continued to stare at her in shock until the man typing on his phone knocked into his shoulder. The large man glared back at her mate, clearly not used to him breaking what was probably a routine formation. The two men behind him gave him questioning looks as they passed.

Catherine waited expectantly. She gave a shy smile and held her hand up in greeting. He did not return the smile, instead he continued to give her the same uncertain, shocked expression. A moment later he blinked, looked at the men who had passed him, glanced back at her and shook his head. Catherine blinked a few times in confusion and then he turned and followed the other men. She felt a tightness grip her chest as he got further and further away. She watched his back as he disappeared around the corner onto Main Street.

Her mate, a lycan, just walked away from her without a second glance. What the fuck was she supposed to do now?