CHAPTER 1

THUNDER rolled with an unstoppable rage. The wind howled loud, as if trying to kiss the storm. Everything below the murderous cloud sways with warning. Everything except the small cabin in the middle of the Calistre woods. The small shelter was kempt and polished. Anyone would thought a family of three person was having a bonding time inside. A lovely woman with kind eyes and a man with gentle hands. Together with a kid named Carlos, or Felix. Because that's how it usually does in the movies.

No. It wasn't like that.

Inside the dim-litted cabin sat a male in his early thirties. Amidst the cacophony of jarring noises, he sat unflinching on his pre-loved rocking chair by the window. With his aide missing three days now, he had grown a beard. His casual clothes made him seem older than his real age.

Joaquin De Villa didn't care about age. He was unfortunate to have his sight impaired when he reached the age of twenty one. He had to learn how to walk alone, eat with his own hands, cook with practiced care and work with his feet steady on the ground. Worrying about his age doesn't qualify a position in his mind. He'd rather think of how to cook his new recipe of spaghetti without calling his helper.

Joaquin was deliberate in making himself forget about the things that normal men in his age primarily talks about— family, women and work.

Those things that are complicated but he'd really like to experience. Just like committment. He never had a formal relationship. Joaquin doesn't like explaining his life to someone that 'might' not be the one. It didn't help that his shifter side has to be kept in the open. There's no way he could hide his wolf in secret to his 'partner'.

Even just a 'bond' mate is good enough for him. Joaquin is aware that finding your 'Fated Pair' is like searching a fine needle in a haystack.

Either bond mate or a Fated Mate, Joaquin is not up for the both of them. Loving someone is a heady task for him. He's not up for it. Simply because he can't. It's arduous.

He had heard all about the stories his father always talks about when he was a toddler. A Fated Mate is someone you can't refuse. They call and pull you into a trance you would never imagine. Without a second thought, the mating bite happens and everything will change. And just like that, Joaquin developed weariness upon the prospect of meeting his Fated Mate.

Just thinking about it sends a nasty tingle on his scalp. Baring his neck for someone who will know not just how many moles are there in his body but also how horrible his past is terrifying. He managed not leaving his cabin for the last eight years. He will survive hiding for a few decades more.

Joaquin listened to the pouring rain. He tipped his heels back and send his chair rocking gently.

'Like this,' he thought, 'this is peaceful enough. I don't need anything more than this.'

Joaquin held his neck and mildly massaged it. He let out a quiet groan. The cabin didn't change since the very last time he saw it. He visits this place every week even before when he got into an accident. His father chose this place for him since it's familiar for Joaquin. Although he could not complain about anything, he would appreciate it more if his father can find a time to spare him some minutes. Joaquin never got ahold him since last year.

Not a message. Not a single phone call.

Joaquin sighed. The downpour of rain is comforting. His skin welcomed the cold like it's how it should be. Chilling.

Trailing his right hand down to his stomach, he smiled slightly. Finally, his hand reached the final destination.

His breath warmed the air fanning on his face. Joaquin palmed the small dent between his legs. Under his cotton pyjamas. A hiss came out of his mouth. 'Don't think about sad things anymore.'

He rarely does this. It only happens when he's too bored or the pent up energy in his body doesn't know where to steam out.

Joaquin was scared and at the same time fascinated with this feeling. He discovered this when he went past the age of fourteen. He loves touching himself but he know how to restrain at times. Doing this regularly will have him tempted to go out and 'know' people. Joaquin doesn't want that.

"Oh..." A long whimper dirtied the air. The small bump beneath his palm had turned into a full erection. Joaquin fumbled with the waistband of his pyjamas. It wanted release. He'll give it a good rub. "Oh, God..."

A loud thump on his door broke Joaquin's self-pleasuring session. His keen sense of hearing didn't falter with the storm. He pulled his blanket up and shouted, "Who's there?"

This time, a loud bang came. Someone surely did just throw a rock at his door. Joaquin, face full of discomfort and incredulity, fixed his pyjamas and stood. 'It could be Lance.'

Lance is Joaquin's aide or secretary, or that's what the guy likes to call himself. He helped Joaquin with stuff he couldn't do. The man had a lucrative amount as a salary and who doesn't need to come at a set time to work. Joaquin rarely calls him for help. This night's visit could only be him. Although he doesn't know what does he want to do right now. 'Now is not a good time.'

"Lance, what?" Joaquin grabbed his blanket and gathered it on his front. He padded the way through the door and hesitated. "Lance, talk. What do you wan't? I'm not in a convenient situation right now."

"Open..."

Joaquin paused his breath. A dry voice of a woman in a pitiful state cried on his ears. It sent his anxiety overdrive in an instant. The humiliating tent on his boxers curiously didn't calm down. Instead, it intensified. Joaquin's eyes involuntarily flickered with great interest.

"Please, open."

Joaquin's jaw slacked but he didn't know what to say. The alluring voice sounded demanding even though it carries the word 'please'. It turned him on more.

'She could be dangerous. Should I open it?'

He sniffed the air and frown. The woman on the other side doesn't smell funny. In all honesty, she smelled like the pungent scent of iron. Blood.

'Or she could be in danger herself!'

Joaquin reached for the knob and jilted it forward. He dashed outside to know the woman's location. "Where are you?"

He could see nothing but black. Joaquin enhanced his sense of touch. Warmth gathered on his right side. He went in that direction without caring for the big plops of rain falling on his body and wetting his clothes. Joaquin was flabbergasted when he noticed his lower member who didn't lose its vigor and kept standing as steel in a face of possible murder.

"I'm here." Joaquin became drenched in rain within seconds. When he held the woman's body, mainly her shoulder. He almost frowned in the familiarity he felt. "Hey! Are you still awake? Tell me your name. Who did this to you?"

"Oh, I thought you're already looking for the right spot to bury me since you were so late." The woman's voice lost its weak and tender quality. It turned into snark and pure sarcasm. Joaquin's happy lower third leg didn't mind it and instead found the woman's character a tad too fascinating. Her voice still have that pained undertone. She's injured. "Oh... you. You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

Joaquin's lips twitched. He attempted to give her a slight smile but it stuck. He's still restless about her bloody state. Joaquin turned left and right yet he heard nothing. He nodded to her then said, "That's nice of you to say. It's unfortunate though."

"Unfortunate?" The woman coughed. Joaquin wanted to invite her inside his home to reccuperate. "It's gorgeous blue!"

He nodded with lowered eyes. "It can't see you."

'I need to treat her wounds.' Joaquin decided. 'Then I'll send her away after that.'

The woman went silent for a few second. She cried, "Oh, my God. Just why?"

Joaquin's hand left her shoulder. He stepped back and thought, 'Maybe this is a mistake…' The woman doesn't sound friendly now. And when she will come to know him more, she will definitely run screaming away from him.