Destined For Her

by Laura Fang

  “Hey Leo,” I said, “Shawna wants you to do a profile on this guy I met at the pride parade.”

  He turned to look up at me, her sullen eyes narrowed. “Oh,” he said, taking the card from me. “Thanks.”

  “Um,” I started, wondering why I was even bothering to ask him this. “Is there any chance you need help with the interview? I mean, I could call and set it up between you two, or something…” I trailed off lamely.

  Leo looked at me with disdain. “I’ve done plenty of interviews before. I don’t need your help.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Well, I just thought I’d offer. Anyway, bye.”

  And that was that. I went back to my desk and took a moment to think. Logic told me I should put the problem on the backburner for now, but my wolf didn’t like the sound of that. My wolf wanted me to get out there, find the Solace offices, and walk right up to Cecelia. My wolf didn’t understand social niceties.

  There wasn’t anything I could do about it now, so I opened up my email and scrolled through my new messages half-heartedly. A new sense of conviction rose in me, though, as the cogs turned in my brain. I was going to see Cecelia again. I knew it. I’d find a way.

  2

  Cecelia

  “I’m telling you, Cecelia, PR is the way to go. It’s free publicity. How can you argue with that? Marketing is fine and dandy, but you’ve gotta reach people who read the newspaper and watch TV. People in my generation, you know?”

  I nodded slowly. I knew Sally was right. I just didn’t have the time to devote to PR. As it was, my marketing manager was overbooked with all the social media outreach and advertising she had to arrange. I couldn’t ask her to take on PR as well.

  I didn’t regret going into business for myself, not one bit. I was the one in charge of all my free time now. But it meant that I didn’t really have a life. Working on the app ate up all my time. Now that I had several employees, it was better than when I had started on the app, a couple years ago. I had barely slept back then, and I had subsisted off of ramen and cheese puffs. But it was still growing, and like a growing child, it required my full attention.

  I wanted to find a partner. I had entered my mating peak as a shifter and if I didn’t find one soon, it was going to be a lot harder for me later on. It was bad luck that it coincided with the explosive growth of the Solace app. I didn’t want to be lonely at the end of it all. If I wanted a mate, I was going to have to forcefully carve time out of my schedule. I couldn’t keep giving myself excuses.

  “So, what do you think?” asked Sally. “We could hire someone as a consultant.”

  “It’s a good idea,” I said. “Someone with at least a few contacts who could get us a few good pieces. We don’t need anyone full time.”

  “Great,” said Sally. “I’ll start looking.”

  I was glad I had Sally; I didn’t know what I’d do without her. I wouldn’t be half as organized or successful. My personal assistant was one of the most important people at the company. And since she was a couple decades older than the rest of us, she assumed a motherly role; she was able to remind us to keep our heads on straight. Without her, we’d be overworked and underfed. She was invaluable.

  But I was worried that her suggestion of adding a consultant would be more than our budget could afford. The app’s growth was strongest among young people, like college students, but unfortunately, they weren’t willing to spend money on the various offers in my app, which was the primary way it generated profit. I needed to reach older segments of the population. I needed to spend money to make money.

  I went back to my desk and stared at my screen. A whole mountain of emails had shown up during my chat with Sally. It was incredible, I thought, how they piled up. Thankfully, I was saved from having to deal with them by a phone call.

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Is this Ms. Martell from Solace?” said a male voice.

  “That’s me,” I said. “How can I help you today?”

  “My name is Leo Trussom and I’m calling from the City Paper. We were hoping to do a profile on you and your app.”

  I perked up. Even now, PR was coming to me. That was serendipitous. “I’d love to help,” I said. “I was interviewed by a woman from the City Paper, at the pride parade.”

  “Yes, that’s how we knew about you,” said Leo.

  “How’s she doing, by the way? Tess, wasn’t it?”

  “She’s fine,” said Leo. He sounded a little irritated and I didn’t blame him. He was probably on a deadline.

  “Well, call me Cecelia,” I said, trying to sound affable. “What did you need?”

  “If I could come in to interview you, that’d be great,” he said. “Or we could meet up in a coffee shop if you preferred. I just need to talk to you for an hour, max.”

  “Oh, no, you can come in,” I said. “If you send an email to my assistant, she can set something up. I don’t really know what’s on my calendar, otherwise I’d offer.”

  “That’s perfect,” said Leo.

  I gave him Sally’s information and thanked him. It was annoying that I was going to have to set aside time for an interview, considering I was already so busy, but I couldn’t complain when the publicity was free. An article in the alt weekly was going to be great for the app—and this would be my second feature.

  Leo was all business, though. I would have liked to ask him about Tess. But then, I realized, that was the mating peak’s effect. There was no real reason I would have had to interrogate him about Tess, so I’d have to do the legwork myself. It was possible I could squeeze it in when I met him in person, but he hadn’t seemed too pleased to get off topic.

  Man, thinking about Tess took me out of the mood to do work completely. Not that I was feeling productive anyway. But then, I thought, I had to work on my personal life at some point. Maybe I could find Tess’ email address on the paper’s website. Energized by this idea, I went to look.

  After some digging, I found her author page with her email address listed. I took some time to browse some of the other articles she had written; she was new to the paper, but they’d given her good opportunities, and she had a particular interest in reviewing movies and music, which was an attractive quality. She sounded ambitious and well-read—two things I liked in a partner.

  But now I had to decide what I wanted to do with this email address. Would it be too weird to email her, especially at her work address? I didn’t really have any other choices, though. I couldn’t forget about her and let this chance go.

  I was reminded of the tale of the fated mates. My mother had told me about it when she told me how she and my dad met. It was an ancient shifter legend and not that many people put much stock in it anymore. But my mother had, and even though I was the skeptical type, I found myself wanting to believe. With this compulsion I had, it sounded more true than not.

  When you found your fated mate, you felt, above everything else, the compulsion, like it was nature itself telling you that you were meant to be together. I was seeing it now; the thought of being without Tess was unimaginable, and even though my rational mind thought that was baloney, my heart seemed to think there was something to it. The myth had been ingrained in me by my mother.

  It had happened on the day of my parents’ eleventh wedding anniversary. It was easy to me back then—they were simply two people in love who had found each other. But my mother had solemnly explained the legend. She had gathered me close to her and looked me right in the eyes, ensuring that I’d never forget. “You’ll find your fated mate, Cecelia,” she had said. “Whether it’s a man or a woman, it doesn’t matter. We’ll love you either way.”

  Her acceptance had made it easier for me to grow into myself. I hadn’t struggled, like some of the other girls I knew. They had gone through periods of liking guys in high school, or at least thinking they liked them. Some of them had even had boyfriends. I had been spared that by my parents’ tolerance. When I started having feelings for other girls, I was able to recognize
what they were.

  I had thanked my mother for raising me that way. I didn’t know what inner turmoil or confusion I had escaped, and for that I was grateful. And her steadfast conviction that we would all find our fated mates trickled down to me. I never worried about whether so-and-so would like me back, or whether I’d feel forever alone, like the other kids at school. I knew that if I was just patient enough, I’d find my fated mate. I believed less and less in it the older I got, but now, I had to wonder.

  And of course, there was the part of the legend that I had found out from my friends when I was in high school. Apparently the sex was supposed to be incredible when you were with your fated mate. It was common knowledge that sex was better with other shifters than it was with humans, for whatever reason. I’d tried both and I knew that was overwhelmingly true. But when you found your mate, it was on another level.

  I was looking forward to testing that claim for myself.

  And it wasn’t going to happen unless I took the first step. It was scary, I thought. I was an alpha in my prime and I wasn’t afraid of anything. But my hesitation told a different story. I tried asking myself what could go wrong. Worst case, she’d ignore it or turn me down. She seemed polite enough. But was I prepared for a rejection from her? I’d been declined before, sure, but this was different.

  Well, there was only one way to find out. I copied and pasted her email address and started writing. Hey Tess, I wrote. I hope you’re doing well. The article on the pride parade was awesome—great job! I enjoyed talking to you when we met and I’d like to see you again. Would you care to join me for dinner this Friday evening? I know a great place we could go to. Let me know, Cecelia.

  There. That looked pretty good. I wanted to maintain a delicate balance between being assertive and polite. Omegas liked when alphas went for what they wanted—that was what was expected, anyway. It was flattering to be pursued, or so I’d heard. But I didn’t want to come across as demanding. I tweaked a few words and reread it. It was now or never.

  I clicked the send button. What had I set in motion?

  I checked the time. I had spent so much time poring over this little email and overthinking the whole Tess situation that it was almost time for my afternoon meeting. This was a routine occurrence and it was mostly for the developers; I just sat around so I could sign off on changes. I wasn’t much of a programmer myself. They had done a great job so far and I trusted them to keep it up.

  I took a few minutes to fix up a cup of afternoon coffee, then I went to the meeting room, where several people were already gathered. The lead developer, Michaela, was already getting her presentation set up. I looked upon all of them fondly. I was so lucky to have such a good team. It was really a blessing.

  “This week wasn’t too active,” said Michaela, starting her presentation. “We have one major report from a user who wanted to know if she could sync up her data with her husband’s. She was basically asking if there was a way for married people or families to have cross-device support…”

  As they launched into a discussion about the merits of this proposed feature, I couldn’t help but feel my mind drifting. I couldn’t believe how close I had come to being married. This was before I truly understood what the legend of the fated mates was all about. This was back when I had graduated from my MBA program.

  Fiona had been hot as hell, that’s what I remembered. Her body, taut and toned as she caught and threw the disc, were what had first caught my eye. She played with her buddies every Wednesday afternoon, running around the field right outside my building, so I got a weekly eyeful of her body. Eventually, I gathered up the willpower to ask her out, since it was easy to tell she was an omega. But that was the first day of what came to be a tumultuous relationship.

  Fiona had always been a little mentally unstable. I didn’t know what it was, but she made me put up with her shit for way too long. After a year of this, I told her I wasn’t willing to put up with her mood swings unless she went to therapy. I was proud of myself for making her do it. Even though she was an omega, she was aggressive and a little frightening. There was something off about her. I should have known it from the start.

  She agreed to go to therapy for her anger management problems, and we went to some sessions of couples counseling as well. I thought we had managed to get her temper under control. I was no longer perturbed by the thought of her being the primary parent to raise a child and I no longer worried about her getting fired from her job for her issues. It seemed like she had made a lot of progress and could be a good partner. We didn’t have any issues after that point. It was like a switch had flipped in her, erasing her negative qualities.

  So we’d gotten engaged. Everyone was happy for us. I thought I had found the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. It had taken a while for my family and friends to come around, because they had known the shit that Fiona had put me through, but like me, they had seen her progress and grow as a person. They saw her as a changed man.

  But as the day of the wedding drew nearer, the months turning into weeks, I felt a distinct sense of unease. I still felt like there was something off about Fiona. I always prided myself on being a rational person; I wasn’t swayed by feelings I couldn’t explain. But in the end, my intuition was so powerful that I couldn’t ignore it. I talked to my mother and she told me to trust myself. She didn’t mention the fated mates, but as I looked into her somber eyes, I was reminded of that day, on her anniversary.

  I did it. I broke off the engagement. I wasn’t able to give a coherent explanation for my behavior to anyone. Maybe that’s what pissed Fiona off. Maybe there were a lot of things that pissed her off. But she didn’t take it well. She argued that because she had made so much progress for me, I should have stuck with her. Her behavior told me I made the right decision, though. Her volatility resurfaced as if it were the heart of a dormant volcano. She lost a lot of our mutual friends because she treated them like crap when they tried to help her. She was unpredictable, and quite frankly, dangerous.

  I had thought that I was weak for not being able to handle her, but wisdom taught me that it wasn’t my fault—none of it was. In the end, I had the strength to cut off a relationship that was ultimately poisoned; even though it seemed healthy on the surface, it was obvious in the aftermath of our break up that her anger had never really gone away. I had to do what was best for myself.

  Fiona tried to give me shit for months afterward. I had to block her from contacting me, and I advised my family and friends to do the same. I got a few threatening letters in my mailbox, and so did my loved ones—nasty enough that I made copies and gave them to the police—but they gradually came to a stop. I hadn’t heard anything from Fiona in two years.

  I hoped that it would stay that way. So far, so good.

  It still disturbed me when I thought about how close I came to being tied to her for life. Divorce wasn’t really done in the shifter community. Of course, sometimes there was abuse, among other serious reasons to split up, but even then, it was a hassle—socially and legally. Divorced shifters were treated like pariahs, even in “progressive” packs where gay shifters were accepted. You could be gay, but you couldn’t get divorced.

  In the end though, maybe my mom was right. I was destined to end up with my fated mate and no matter what, I wouldn’t have ended up with Fiona. It was hard to wrap my head around it. Even after all the pain, she believed I was still waiting for my fated mate. I just had to get over this obstacle to reach her.

  In any case, the broken engagement was what made me believe, a little more, in the fated mates legend. I still wasn’t fully willing to believe it. There were shifters in unhappy marriages, after all, as well as shifters who never did find any mate and ended up alone in their old age. It was possible that the legend, like many other legends, was simply a social tool used to encourage shifters to pair up and make the right choice in doing so.

  But whether it was true or not, I knew that Tess was different. The connection
I felt with her was unique. I had a certain clarity regarding my feelings for her that I had never felt for Fiona. Maybe Tess and I would turn out to be incompatible, but I didn’t think that would happen. This time, I was pretty sure I had it right. And like an alpha in her prime, I planned to get what I wanted.

  3

  Tess

  Shawna had assigned me a whole bunch of neat stories to make up for the loss of the interview. I had a suspicion she could tell that I was pretty bummed about it, even though she had no earthly idea why it meant so much to me. There was a music festival in town which I had been wanting to attend, but I couldn’t afford the cost of the tickets. Shawna surprised me with a press pass.

  “You told me you wanted to go to this, so I hoped you didn’t already buy tickets,” she said. She was having a hard time concealing her grin. “I want an awesome article about this, got it?”

  “Got it!” I said. I couldn’t believe she had swung me this awesome opportunity. It was only for Saturday, the main day, but still, I wasn’t complaining. She had saved me several hundred dollars. Even if I could afford the festival, I would have had a hard time shelling out so much money.

  I held the press pass in my hands like it was a rare jewel, then decided to snap a photo of it to show my friends. They were going to be jealous. I already knew that at least a half dozen bands I really liked were going to be playing, so I was going to have a great time.

  Buoyed by my good fortune, I went back to my desk to check my email. Because I had started to do most of the music reviews, I was getting a lot of emails from record labels and independent artists. It was fun to sift through these and see if there was anything worth listening to.

  But buried in the midst of all these inquiries was a letter unlike any other. My heart nearly stopped when I saw it was from Cecelia. What could she be emailing me about? It was probably in response to the pride article; maybe I had misquoted her or something.