Page 25 of Heir

She touched his shoulder. “Sir—”

He jerked away hard, unintentionally—from my vantage point anyway—swatting her in the breast.

She gasped.

People around gasped too.

“Are you all right?” I asked her, careful not to touch her.

She held her breast against herself with her forearm, her young, tanned face one of fear and confusion. “T-this is only my first week.”

I nudged the idiot’s elbow. “Apologize to her.”

He pulled out his earbud again and glowered at me. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Apologize to her,” I repeated. I really fucking hated repeating myself.

“She touched me first.”

“And you assaulted her, because you can’t control your reflexes, or do as you’re asked by airline staff. Apologize to her.” I made sure that when he was looking at me, I tossed some freaky flames into my eyes.

His gaze widened, then he glanced up at the flight attendant. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Now, sit up, finish your juice, and put your tray table back in its secured position, like you’ve been asked,” I went on.

Giving me his best death-stare, he did as he was told. The flight attendant hesitantly took his empty cup, mouthed a “thank you” to me, then skittered off down the aisle.

“Well done,” said the elderly man beside me. Thankfully, I’d been seated beside men on all my flights. Even an elbow bump with a woman could cause me pain. “Some people can get so belligerent.”

I lifted my brows for a moment. “Some people just don’t know how to be decent human beings anymore.”

I chuckled on the inside. As far as human beings went, I knew only a few who were actually decent. Like Jai and Busaba—and maybe this old guy trying to talk to me. But as a whole, the species was weak, selfish, and unevolved.

We landed without a care, and unloaded off the plane, pouring out into the domestic arrivals portion of the terminal. I didn’t have any bags with me. I didn’t even have any fucking carry-on. Just my phone, my wallet and my passport.

One of the guys I sat next to on the flight from Bangkok to LAX said I was “raw dogging” the flight, as I didn’t have earbuds or anything to keep me entertained. He was stunned that I didn’t even watch a show or read the SkyMall magazine.

All I did was shrug. I had enough in my mind to keep myself entertained. Thoughts of my mate kept me busy. What was she like? What did she look like? What was her name? Was she a mage too? And if so, what kind of mage?

The fates worked in mysterious ways. Mages were the wild cards of the bunch—in my opinion—and although mages were usually fated to mate other mages, we seemed to have more variety thrown at us than the other species which bonded mostly with themelves. This was probably why there were so many variations of mages: fire, earth, spellcaster, necromancer, healing, psychic and more. We evolved because our genetics were more diverse. Both my parents were mages, but my uncle’s Fated Mate was a very nice fox shifter named Gilda. It was just a theory, but one a lot of mages believed. Who really knew what the fates were up to with their pairing choices?

It was slow moving, funneling off the plane on the jet bridge, but eventually I broke free of the bottleneck and wove my way through the trudgers and saunterers. I needed to get outside. I needed to figure out which direction to go.

It was dark outside now, and raining, but that wouldn’t impede her scent.

Taking a deep breath as soon as I stepped through the open doors, I grew woozy from just how strong I could smell her. I wanted to run. I wanted to run to her now; she was so close. I could practically taste her. And I bet she tasted even better than she smelled.

So I ran.

“Hey!” someone behind me called. “You don’t want a cab?”

“I’m good,” I replied, continuing at a steady jog.

The dark didn’t scare me, and the rain felt good as it sizzled and steamed on my skin. And the closer I grew to my mate, the better I felt. The stronger and more confident. The more excited I became.

My legs pumped harder and faster until I was sprinting. Time ceased to exist. I had tunnel vision. I was focused on the beautiful, blurry figure before me, waiting to be claimed. Waiting for our life to begin.

It was close to midnight when I rocked up to a warehouse converted into an apartment building. What a weird part of town. I bet a lot of hipsters lived here. Just from where I stood, I could see a kombucha shop, a butcher shop, two craft breweries, a gluten-free bakery, and a hot yoga studio.

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