Marked by her rejected mate

Annabelle descended the creaking stairs that led into the living room, the old wooden steps groaning in protest beneath her weight. With a quick glance around, she retrieved her backpack from the couch and slung it over her shoulder before stepping out of the house.

The door slammed shut behind her, causing the entire house to shudder as if chilled by an unspoken presence. An expression of disgust crossed Annabelle's face, and she rolled her eyes in response.

Scowling at her home as if it were the source of her frustrations, she turned and walked away, a frustrated huff escaping her lips. Her father's choice of house was something she couldn't support. Among all the houses in the community, he had chosen one that even an elderly, wretched couple would refuse to live in.

Every aspect of the house oozed old-fashioned charm and weariness. Annabelle couldn't fathom how her father had managed to live in such a place before her arrival. It seemed to acquire a messiness of its own after being tidied up, and as a busy student, Annabelle had no time to handle household chores. If she wasn't occupied with experiments, her nose was buried deep in her books.

Following the passing of her mother, living with her father became her only option. Throughout her childhood, she had resided with her mother after her parents' divorce. Her father's addiction to drugs had plagued their family, with him frequently returning home late at night, intoxicated, and subjecting his wife to abuse whenever she voiced her concerns.

Though her father still struggled with addiction, Annabelle couldn't claim that he was a bad father. She was his only child, and he loved her, even if his actions didn't always reflect it. Despite his drunkenness, he would often apologize for hurting her when he regained his senses.

Their house was situated near the entrance of the woods. Stepping out of their back porch meant immersing oneself in the forest's embrace. The woods were no ordinary place, forever cast in shadows, darkness, and an eerie chill. Strange vibes permeated the air, and elusive shadows danced in the night.

Unusual noises frequently echoed through the woods, ranging from growls of unseen creatures to other unexplainable sounds. When Annabelle grew tired of the cacophony and decided to let her father know about it, a bottle came hurtling towards her, narrowly missing her as she instinctively ducked.

Such incidents had become commonplace, which was why she refrained from sharing her concerns about the woods with her father. He would have to discover the mysteries of the forest on his own.

Annabelle had grown accustomed to her father's behavior, as he would often act out when under the influence of alcohol, only to apologize profusely once sober. She couldn't complain too much, as her mother had endured similar mistreatment before filing for divorce.

She could tolerate her father's actions, but the strange noises in the woods were a different story. They left her sleepless, her eyes wide open in the night. Every glimpse of flickering shadows that vanished in an instant would send shivers down her spine. In her heart, she knew the woods harbored something dangerous, patiently waiting to pounce.

The woods were akin to a wolf in sheep's clothing, far from being a comforting place. Even when Annabelle sought solace on her balcony, taking a break from her studies at night, she couldn't shake the sensation of being watched by a malevolent presence. It was as if a time bomb lurked in the shadows, waiting to detonate. Someone was observing her, and she was well aware of it.

...

As the taxi pulled up in front of her school, Annabelle stepped out and paid the driver with the last few dollars she had. With a nod of gratitude, she entered the school premises while the driver swiftly drove away. There was something about the driver that seemed suspicious, always stealing glances at her through the rearview mirror.

Keeping her gaze fixed on the floor, she briskly walked through the school corridor, determined not to be late for her morning lectures. The stares she received from other students made her wonder if she had a pig perched on her head. Her uniform was impeccable, her black curly hair neatly brushed, cascading down her back.

Turning toward the sound of her name being called, she rolled her eyes upon realizing it was Williams, the school head prefect, accompanied by his group of friends. Williams had persistently asked her out on a date, but she had consistently turned him down. Despite his good looks and intelligence, he simply didn't ignite any romantic interest within Annabelle. She remained uninterested.

Before she could refocus on her destination, she accidentally bumped into Mirabelle, who hissed in response to their collision. "It was a mistake," Annabelle quickly apologized, offering a conciliatory look before resuming her hurried stride.

For some reason, Mirabelle had been itching for a fight, and Annabelle had been doing her best to avoid any confrontations, until now, when she unintentionally bumped into her. All thanks to Williams.

She had no interest in engaging in petty high school drama.

"You! Watch where you're going!" Mirabelle said in an offensive tone, and suddenly grabbed Annabelle by her hair. Annabelle winced and immediately pulled away, her hair already disheveled from Mirabelle's rough grasp.

"Are you blind? Can't you see that you just knocked over my notebook?" she yelled at Annabelle, who stared back at her with a blank expression.

Annabelle crouched down, picked up the notebook, and thrust it back into Mirabelle's hand, waiting for her to continue.

After a few moments of silence, Annabelle asked, "I didn't expect you to be so brief," she sighed quietly when she noticed Mirabelle's eyes darken. It seemed her words hit a nerve and made Mirabelle even angrier.

"Don't speak to me like that!" Mirabelle yelled aggressively, staring at Annabelle with disdain while clenching her fists.

"What if I do?" Annabelle challenged, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Then I'll report your dad to the police," Mirabelle threatened, placing her hands on her hips.

"Seriously, what charges do you have against him? Is he a molester? Are you having an affair with him? Go ahead, make me have a cute little step brother. I could use one," Annabelle said in a bored tone, fanning herself with her hand.

Doesn't she have anything else to use against her? But the students in the corridor burst into laughter, and Mirabelle growled under her breath, feeling like a laughingstock.

"Your dad is a notorious drug addict, so quit the foolish talk and act of ignorance," Mirabelle replied, her hands still on her hips, a smirk forming on her lips as the laughter died down and whispers about Annabelle's dad took over.

"Do whatever you want, because that's none of my business in the first place. Who cares? I couldn't care less about any of that," Annabelle replied, shrugging her shoulders before turning and walking away. She wasn't phased and didn't care about the opinions of others in her life.

"You know what? Your mom was a terrible person, a heartless woman who killed her children. That's why she died a brutal death earlier than she was supposed to. She deserved to die, and so do you," Mirabelle said loudly, her words cutting through the air, causing the other students to gasp.

Upon hearing what Mirabelle said with a sense of pride, Annabelle stopped in her tracks, freezing like a mannequin.

"What did you just say?" Annabelle asked, trying to act cool as she walked towards Mirabelle, but deep inside, she was seething with fury. She was already infuriated, her hands clenched into tight fists.

How dare her classmate speak about her late mom in such a manner in front of other students? She wouldn't let this slide.

"You heard me. Your mom was an evil woman, and you're no different," Mirabelle repeated, but before she could finish her statement, a punch landed on her face. Caught off guard, she couldn't avoid it.

"How dare you speak about my late mom like that? What do you even know about her and her death?!" Annabelle yelled at her, pushing her to the ground while Mirabelle was still dazed from the punch.

Annabelle started throwing punches at Mirabelle, trying to hold back tears as she beat her up.

"Who's feeding you information about my family? Everyone should stop prying into my life and my family!" she shouted.

She tore Mirabelle's school shirt, just as Mirabelle had ruined her skirt zipper. No one knew anything about her family, so what was Mirabelle talking about? Was it because Mirabelle was a rich kid that she was spying on her?

Suddenly, Annabelle felt a sharp pain in her arms, causing her to let go of Mirabelle and whimper.

Mirabelle had stabbed her in the arms, and blood began to flow.

Annabelle quickly stood up, picked up her backpack, and ran to her class since she was already late for her lessons.

She left Mirabelle lying on the floor with the dagger in her hand.

As she hurried to her class, she caught a glimpse of a familiar silhouette passing through the corridor in a fleeting moment. Where had she seen that silhouette before? Wasn't it in her home, outside in the woods?

Annabelle pushed open the door to her classroom and walked in, clutching her bleeding arm with her left hand. The heads of everyone in the class turned towards her, but she avoided eye contact and found a seat.

"Miss Annabelle, you're late!"

"I know," Annabelle replied curtly, attempting to hide her wound so the lecturer wouldn't notice.

"Are you alright, Miss Annabelle? You look injured," the female lecturer asked, her sharp eyes taking in Annabelle's disheveled appearance.

"It's all thanks to Mirabelle, but I'm fine, ma'am," Annabelle replied, taking her seat.

"You need to go to the infirmary for treatment," the lecturer insisted, staring at Annabelle's bleeding arm.

"I said I'm fine, okay?" Annabelle replied rudely, the pain from her injured arm making her irritable.

Mirabelle had done an incredible job, not only stabbing Annabelle with a dagger but also inflicting a deep cut on her skin.

Do students still bring weapons like that to college? Annabelle wondered as she glanced at the teacher, contemplating bringing a dagger to school herself. It seemed necessary for self-defense.

She took a deep breath, feeling lightheaded, and waited patiently for the lecturer, who was assigning them a take-home experiment involving animals with four legs.

Finally, the lecturer left the classroom, and Annabelle's tired eyes sparkled with excitement.

She sighed with satisfaction, grabbed her backpack, and stealthily left the campus.

She couldn't risk being seen by the lecturers, especially Mirabelle.

She was certain that if Mirabelle spotted her, she wouldn't hesitate to attack her.

If that happened, Annabelle wouldn't be able to defend herself because of her injured arm. Mirabelle was much stronger than she had anticipated.

...

Pushing open the door to her house, Annabelle stepped inside, noticing her dad's absence.

The house was eerily quiet, and a chill ran down her spine, as if something had happened in her absence.

The living room, which she had tidied up earlier that morning, now looked like a mess, just like she did.

She groaned, running her fingers through her hair in frustration as she screamed at the top of her lungs. She was already frustrated, with an experiment to conduct, and now she had to clean up the house as well.

Her alcoholic father was giving her a hard time, but he hadn't caused this much destruction before. There were bottles scattered around, and she knew he couldn't have done it alone. He wasn't usually this aggressive and destructive, even the curtains were torn. "He must have brought one of his drunk friends, and maybe they fought," she concluded. That was the only explanation she could come up with, as the house looked like a battleground. She was relieved that she hadn't left any of her books or important belongings in the living room; they were safely locked away in her room. She couldn't afford to replace her textbooks if they got ruined. Her savings had just run out, and she planned to find a part-time job to earn some money.

She tossed her backpack onto the sofa and began unbuttoning her uniform. Suddenly, she turned her head, squinting as if someone was watching her, but she couldn't see anyone. She was alone in the large, ruined house, and didn't want to scare herself to shit by pondering about it, so she shrugged it off.

She discarded her school shirt, now wearing only a singlet and a skirt with a broken zipper. She had no money and didn't know what to do about her ruined school skirt zipper. She was now only in black leather shorts and a singlet, which could be considered revealing, but she was alone in her home-or at least, that's what she thought.

She threw her clothes on different sofas, her frustration evident, before hurrying into the bathroom to take a bath and tend to her injured arm.

...

Stepping out of the bathroom, Annabelle headed to her room and put on a long loose black shirt that reached her knees before walking into the kitchen to prepare something to eat.

Since she couldn't cook with her injured arm and had difficulty eating, she gulped down a glass of milk. When she finished, she washed the cup and put it back where it belonged before leaving the kitchen.

She hummed a melodious tune as she gathered the equipment she would need for her experiment, hoping that she still had a rabbit in the cage for her experiment.

However, when she approached the cage where she had kept the rabbit, she was disappointed.

The cage was empty; her rabbit had vanished.

"Dad! What the hell...?" she yelled angrily, knowing he wasn't at home but had likely let the rabbit escape. Why couldn't he stay away from her things? He was making her life unbearable, and now even her rabbit was gone. She had no money left; what was she going to do now?

The cage door was wide open, and the rabbit couldn't have opened it on its own.

Thinking of how to proceed with her experiment since she no longer had any animals with four feet, she decided to go into the woods and find another animal.

Though she didn't know how to use a bow and arrow, she thought she could give it a try. She had seen her dad use it on several occasions, and it seemed pretty easy.

She could have bought another animal with four feet, but she had spent her savings on other equipment for her experiment. So she was left with no option but to venture into the unknown, into the woods she detested. If anything happened to her, her dad would be held responsible.

She walked out of the house and closed the door before venturing into the woods, hoping that since it was noon, there wouldn't be any lurking shadows. And if there was any danger, she would defend herself with the arrow.

...

She had spent hours in the woods but hadn't seen any animals with four feet, except for the birds, which were producing weird noises that frightened her.

Birds don't have four feet; otherwise, she would have trapped one and gone home with it.

Every little noise she heard frightened her, and fear had consumed her to the extent that she wanted to crouch to the floor and cry until someone else arrived to rescue her and take her home.

She had a great detestation for the woods, but if not for certain circumstances and her love for experimenting with animals, she wouldn't have thought of going into the woods. But right now, she was regretting her decision of stepping foot into the woods. It felt like volunteering oneself to be sacrificed. It was like she intentionally walked into a lion's den.

Fortunately for her, just as she was about to give up, she spotted a rabbit feasting on a lifeless antelope.

"What!" she gasped softly, trying not to scare away the rabbit.

She was surprised at the sight of the dead antelope. Her dad had told her that the only creatures that could be found in the woods were birds and rabbits, so how come there was a dead antelope? She would have a word with her dad once she returned because this was proof that she had indeed heard growls in the woods.

She aimed her arrow at the rabbit and was about to shoot when she unexpectedly felt a strange presence, which made her heart skip. As a result, she missed her target and shot the dead antelope instead of the rabbit, which had already run away.

"Shit, I missed my chance," she complained, clearly disappointed.

Feeling alarmed by the eerie feeling surrounding her, she decided it was best to head back home and borrow some money from her dad since it was already getting close to twilight.

The feeling of being watched intensified, confirming her suspicion that something or someone was standing behind her.

She turned, her heart racing, to catch a glimpse of the person who had caused her to panic so intensely and allowed her prey to escape. However, she was left utterly stunned by what she beheld.

Her mouth literally fell agape at the sight of a young man with cascading golden locks that resembled a river of molten gold, and his piercing blue eyes fixed upon her with unmistakable intrigue.

In all honesty, she had anticipated encountering her father, not a strikingly handsome, almost ethereal individual like the one before her.

The urge to shout at him for allowing her rabbit to flee surged within her, but she wisely kept her lips sealed. She had no clue who this enigmatic figure was. He was definitely not her father.

The young man standing there was nothing short of breathtaking, and if she had to hazard a guess, he appeared to be in his early or late twenties.

Annabelle should have felt relieved at the prospect of having a companion to accompany her in the woods and aid in her rabbit-trapping endeavor, but it was quite the opposite.

The vibes emanating from him were disconcerting enough to send anyone into a state of alarm, and she was indeed alarmed. She let out a small whimper, and still, he hadn't torn his gaze from her for even a fleeting moment, nor had he uttered a single word.

Taking two cautious steps backward, vulnerability and fear began to wash over her like a relentless tide.

She was aware that she was in trouble, and standing near him felt like courting disaster. Could he be the elusive, familiar silhouette? Has he come to haunt her? She couldn't allow that to happen; she hadn't wronged anyone.

"Who are you, and what brings you here?" she demanded defiantly, though her instincts were already screaming at her to flee for her life.

But he remained silent, his unwavering gaze penetrating her, seemingly capable of peering into her soul, reading her deepest fears. She had the eerie sensation that he could hear the rhythm of her heart, even though they weren't close enough for that.

"Huh? Why aren't you saying anything? Are you deaf, or perhaps mute? What are you, some sort of fallen angel? Listen here, this is my backyard, so find another place to 'fall,' and let me enjoy some peace of mind. Stop falling into these woods all the time; there are other woods. I want to sleep soundly tonight!"

Her voice quivered; his presence had a palpable effect, and she couldn't help but notice the strange aura surrounding him.

When he remained steadfastly silent, like an imposing statue of a deity, the breeze gently tousling his hair, she began to retreat further. Her eyes locked onto his every move, ready to sprint the moment he made a move, and he was well aware of it.

Distant growls from animals disrupted her focus, causing her to turn toward the source, her face etched with fear.

But when she glanced back to where the enigmatic man had stood, her heart leaped into her throat; he was nowhere to be found. As she frantically scanned the surroundings, she spotted him emerging from the woods, from the direction where the growls had emanated.

Hadn't he been right in front of her mere seconds ago? Her mind raced with fear, and to make matters worse, twilight was descending.

Her fear overpowered her, and she listened to her instincts, fleeing the scene.

She spun around and began sprinting out of the woods, her heart pounding as if it might burst out of her chest.

With her arrow clutched tightly in her hand, she halted when she realized that her current location differed from the path she had taken to enter the woods. It was leading her deeper into the heart of the forest.

Once she was certain that there were no signs of the mysterious man, she pivoted and retraced her steps, determined to find her way back home.

...

Hunkered down behind a tree, she scoured her pockets frantically for her phone, but it was nowhere to be found.

A sinking realization set in-her phone might have slipped away during her frantic sprint.

If his gaze alone could offer her a heart seizure and made goosebumps racing across her skin, what would facing him directly do?

Tears welled up, but she resisted the urge to cry.

Ever since her mother's passing, she had cried too much, leaving her feeling drained after each bout of tears.

She carefully stepped away from her hiding spot, the urgency of finding her phone weighing on her.

Suddenly, the snap of a twig sent her spinning around, her arrow poised in her trembling hand.

Chills ran down her spine, confirming that he was close.

Glancing left at the sound of another snapped twig, she shivered, her heart nearly stopping when she saw him standing there.

It felt as though he was deliberately breaking twigs to intimidate her, and it was working; she was terrified.

Her face had gone pale, and when he gestured for her to come closer, her eyes widened in disbelief. Why would she do that? Had she lost her mind? She shook her head, muttering, "No way."

Hearing her words, he began striding towards her, causing her complexion to grow even paler.

"Don't come near me... stop," she pleaded, her arrow aimed at him, but he continued advancing.

"If you come any closer, I swear to God, I'll shoot you. Don't make me a murderer," she threatened, stepping backward. Yet, her threats seemed to have no effect, as he continued approaching.

She watched helplessly as the arrow she had loosed sailed toward him, only to be halted by an unknown force, falling harmlessly to the ground like a feather. Her eyes widened in terror.

Fear coursed through her veins, and she knew that her arrows were utterly powerless.

She continued shooting arrows at him, but a strange force seemed to protect him, preventing the arrows from drawing near, and it was discouraging; she couldn't keep up, he was getting closer.

The pain in her right arm intensified with each arrow released, and she eventually ceased firing, the wounds on her arm throbbing.

She groaned angrily and flung the arrow aside, cursing as she squatted on the ground, clutching her wounded arm.

The pain made her wince as she loosened the bandage she had used to tie her wounds.

Mirabelle hadn't wished her well by inflicting such injury on her the day she would encounter a strange god-like man.

She sensed the presence of the enigmatic man hovering nearby, and she looked up, meeting his piercing blue eyes.

Slowly, she shifted away from him, her back resting against a tree for support.

With no means of escape, she reluctantly accepted her impending fate-she might not make it out alive.

Still clutching her arm, she glared at him as though she could kill him with her gaze alone, her fists clenched at her sides, but she was terrified.

Despite his charming looks, she already despised him.

"Go ahead and kill me," she muttered under her breath, closing her eyes as if awaiting the pain of death. How would he kill her? Stabbing her with a dagger or shooting bullets into her skull?

Opening her right eye, she glanced at him, growing offended when she saw him watching her in silence. He was prolonging her agony.

And if she died, at least she could reunite with her mother.

"Just kill me already, don't you get it?! Fucking kill me already!" she yelled, her eyes fully open. Yet, he did nothing, prompting her to take off her boots and throw them at him.

Despite their close proximity, he managed to dodge the flying boots, and she grunted in anger.

The sensation of his hands on her shoulders momentarily distracted her from thoughts of death and reuniting with her mother. Sparks seemed to fly wherever he touched.

Now, all she wanted was to escape from him and never see him again.

She tried convincing herself that it was all a dream and she would wake up any moment, so she closed her eyes as she felt him tracing his fingers along her right hand, stopping just inches away from her injury.

"Little Miss, you need to stop getting into fights. If they come after you, run away. I'll take care of them. Are we clear?" she heard him ask. Her eyes snapped open, shocked by the sound of his voice. It sounded almost too perfect, and it sent a shiver down her spine. The man she had been running from might not be as bad as she thought. She shouldn't judge him solely by his godly looks, but it could all be a facade. She wouldn't listen to her inner voice telling her this.

She stared at his hand, which hovered close to her injured arm, and in the blink of an eye, she jerked her arm away, wanting to escape the strange sparks.

She wiped her arm, trying to rid herself of the tingling sensations.

She stood upright, no longer relying on the tree trunk for support.

She soothed the pain in her arm, shifting her gaze back to him.

"I thought you wanted to kill me? Yet here you are, inquiring about who hurt me after scaring me half to death. Who knows what you would have done if I'd fainted from a heart attack? Well, if you genuinely want me to stop fighting, tell those shadowy figures to stop bothering me. It's none of your business in the first place, so quit your silly pranks because I'm not interested. As you can see, I was busy before you interrupted me. Now go back home and do something meaningful with yourself," she spoke defiantly, turning to walk away. However, he held her back.

"Let go of me... you complete stranger," she attempted to pull free, but his grip remained unyielding.

"Let go; you're hurting me," she pleaded, her eyes welling with tears as he held her injured arm.

It seemed he was causing her pain intentionally, but if he expected her to cry, he had underestimated her resolve. She wouldn't shed tears.

Suddenly, he released her, a result of her biting him, and she fell roughly to the floor.

She quickly got back on her feet and tried to limp away, her leg feeling weak from its abnormal position. The pain in her leg and arm brought silent tears to her eyes.

When she turned back, she was startled to find him still standing there, watching his fingers she had bitten.

She began walking back toward him, keeping her distance.

"I'm not interested in fighting you. You're not my kind of opponent. I only want my boots; they're rather expensive," she muttered, approaching her boots, which she had thrown at him. She bent down to pick them up but cried out in pain instead.

"My leg has been sprained," she whimpered, yet she managed to retrieve her boots.

She couldn't stand up to her feet, she remained squatting, contemplating on how she would get up.

Forcefully, against the will of her body, she stood up, but cried out in pain and staggered backward.

Rather than falling to the ground, he caught her, holding her protectively.

"I didn't ask for your help; don't you understand? You caused all of this, and you've ruined my experiment, you jerk!" she yelled, wanting to struggle against him. However, she froze.

His eyes had now transformed from blue to a golden hue, and she wondered if her eyes had deceived her earlier when she saw them as blue.

"W... what are you?" she asked, feeling dizzy but still struggled to break free.

"What are you doing to me?" she added, growing more vulnerable.

She held onto him for support, struggling to keep her eyes open, but he suddenly scooped her into his arms, earning a weak yelp from her.

"This is your fate, Annabelle. You'd better accept it to make things easier, not just for me," his voice, soft as velvet, echoed in her ears before he gently covered her eyes with his palm, and her vision faded into unconsciousness.

"Boss, are you abducting her?" she heard another man's voice inquire, making it evident that she was being taken by a gang leader. The man who held her was a gang leader.

"She left me no choice," the enigmatic man who had carried her replied, starting to move away. However, the sudden snap of his fingers in front of her face sent her into complete unconsciousness.