Chapter Text
The familiar burning sensation tugs at her muscles, licks at every bone inside of her until she's sure she'd combust in her royal blue 2015 Mustang Convertible if she didn't handle the situation soon. It's been far too long since she felt the bottled up, straight-jacket sensation. Still, she knew it was her fault. Her time management skills were always lacking and she hadn't been able to find time to "relax" or even begin to humor the illusion of comfort. She hadn't been in Virginia for a week and she was already back to hating her day-to-day life. Her mother was lucky she even returned from her country-wide trip, though, Clarke imagined Abby Griffin knew her daughter would return for one last year. In truth, Clarke was just grateful that she had an excuse to be out of the house; no more lessons, no more training, no more disapproving looks from Abby. She needed the peace of a temporary escape.
But did it have to be high school?
Yes, because Clarke would rather serve consecutive prison sentences than be in the boarding house for the rest of her life.
Despite having a double-digit amount of bedroom suites in the 1940s luxury boarding house, she constantly felt suffocated in her home. When she was fourteen, she learned a valuable lesson about family—it doesn’t matter how large the house, they will find a way to get under your skin and ruin the best of things. If she were being accurate with her terminology, she wouldn’t use the word family. Family implied a direct blood relation or a marriage relation. These people were just part of our household. Some still strangers in her mind.
The correct word was pack.
It was the word her mother often used when delivering a speech concerning safety, medical information, supplies, and the overall living arrangements to their people. It was the word elders tossed around in conversation with one another. It was the word the drunks muttered into their drinks as a toast after one of the many dinners her mother hosted. The word derived from their original ancestors that shifted into wolves. It was odd, shifting—changing skin into something so different from the bodies they displayed to the world up until the first full moon following their seventeenth birthday.
But, it was part of her life and she desperately needed to shift before she lost her tethered grip on reality. She should have shifted last night but something pack-related came up that needed her immediate attention. Over the last forty years, the elders in the council seemed to be working on a way to sniff out potential shifters and were starting to peak on success. There’d been a few cases where a newbie was apprehended and walked through the process of what was going on to them, but for the most part—they usually slipped through the cracks.
Clarke was one of the few lucky shifters who’d grown up in the life rather than her parent’s keeping her condition a secret until she turned seventeen. It was mostly because her mother was the Chancellor, sworn leader, of the pack which required her to live in headquarters with the elders, those who chose not to lead a normal-ish life, the protectors, the doctors, and the others who had helpful jobs in the community. It was a safety precaution to keep the entire “you’re not human” thing on the down low because kids talk and if they’re changing, they’ll be less inclined to spill the dirty little secret. It would be far too easy to scout out the pack and watch their children. But no, the mutation in their DNA had to randomly pop up in the areas they occupied which made the job nearly impossible. It made her job of coaxing the newcomers into a comfort zone difficult.
It was the council’s idea to send the youth in for these missions—search and retrieve—because they were relatable to the teens shifting for the first time. Clarke disagreed, mostly because she hated trekking through the woods for hours at a time in search for a scared imbecile who always assumes they’re losing their mind. Last night, Clarke and her closest friend, Nathan Miller, encountered the worst type of newbie; the emotional stoner with a serious case of best friend separation anxiety—A.K.A. the weepy type. Jasper Jordan was known for his pot garden and his moonshine making best friend. Clarke had gone to school with him since kindergarten and knew him fairly well. Some could say that they were friends—that is, if she were allowed to have “human” friends…not that Jasper was human anymore. He was one of the rare cases where he was born into a human family, but his genes were mutated so he resembled the pack instead. It took him longer than usual to shift back and then he was embarrassed that he was naked. Really embarrassed.
Nathan usually took the guys and explained the pros of being what they often called a “freak”, but Jasper was different. He wanted absolutely nothing to do with Miller. He only wanted to hear Clarke tell him about what was going on, the side-effects, the strengths, the weaknesses, the changes, and the entirety of being a shifter—at least, she told him the Cliff’s Notes version of the speech the council would tell him later. It lasted a lot longer than it normally did so eventually, they had to call in Raven and Wick.
Raven Reyes was a mechanic and Kyle Wick was an engineer. They were seemingly normal apart from the whole shifting thing except for the tattoos—marks, really. Humans assumed it was a unique tattoo across their wrist, but the shifter community called it a brand.
The brand.
Raven and Kyle met when Raven started the community college—the second their eyes met, they knew. Before Raven met Kyle, she said the whole soulmate eye connection thing was a cliché, but it happened with them instantly. “It was like this intense feeling—like every bone in my body was threatening to push through my skin until we were connected. I just knew he was my mate…the person I was born to be with.” Soulmates were common in the pack—everyone had a mate that they found within their lifetime. They locked eyes and the personalized mark burned black into their skin and they were bonded for eternity.
It wasn’t that Clarke didn’t believe in soulmates (because there was too much proof to deny it), she just didn’t want one. She’d spent her entire life being loyal to the pack—living with the pack, never experiencing true normality. If she found her mate now or before she graduated college, she would be screwed. She would never be able to leave the pack and venture out on her own for a few years because it would be official—she’d be a complete shifter with all the qualifications of adulthood. It would be her job to do her chosen profession, medicine, and serve her people until her last dying breath while reproducing enough offspring for the next generation. Clarke never questioned whether or not she was part of the pack—she only question whether she wanted to be. And maybe she didn’t want to be part of it.
Maybe she wanted to be the version of humanity that didn’t have to worry about a mate being able to read her mind or communicate telepathically. Maybe she wanted to date human boys and worry about if they were going to send flowers or propose or something completely romantic like the movies. Most of the time, people with mates just assumed they were bonded for life and didn’t need any other indication besides the traditional marriage ceremony conducted by the council. Her opinion was biased, though—she didn’t know a damn thing about love or what it was like to have a soulmate…or the intensity of feeling someone else’s emotions, someone else’s physical pain or pleasure even from miles away. She just knew she didn’t want a damn thing to do with being a shifter after graduation—at least for a while.
A black, nearly identical, Mustang pulled up beside her with a long screech. Nathan was just as late to class as she was--typical. He held a cup of coffee out to her and she smiled, taking it before throwing her aviators over her dark eyes, bruised by her lack of shifting and her exhaustion. It was a deep and obvious contrast with her electric blue eyes. When her friend opened his mouth, she thought he was going to say something about them, but instead, he pointed his thumb towards her car. “Remind me again why you park between two parking places…” It was his way of saying that he missed her. She hadn't felt bad about leaving yet. She had a great time in different states even if she hit rock bottom more than once. Her mother wasn't exactly handing her money to blow off her responsibilities.
“Because I don’t want anyone to park next to me.” Clarke huffed, but there was a trace of a smile on her lips, “Just because I don’t trust the driving of the rest of the student body, doesn’t mean I’m a bitch for parking that way.” Miller had a bad habit of commenting on her driving. In her opinion, she was phenomenal. In his, she was downright scary behind the wheel and only got her driver’s license because she manipulated the instructor with her persuasion projection. Only advanced shifters could transfer their wants onto others, making them forget their reservation and their original judgments. Clarke was considered quite advanced for her age.
“Yes, it does. Now, where the fuck is our homeroom?”
She snorted, “The History department. Room 302, Mr. Bellamy Blake. The name sounds familiar, think he’s a shifter?”
“God, I hope not. The last thing I need is some old ass elder telling me about World War II.” Miller said under his breath—he was another person who had a few objections with the council as well as the mate expectations, but that was for his own personal reasons that they never discussed. “If we take the right hallway, we could be there in two minutes and still hear the corny introduction to homeroom and how we should all try to attend every class because our GPA is important...”
“Or we could take the left and completely skip it,” She suggested with a sarcastic smile. "and give ourselves a moment to think."
“Then we’d have to explain why we weren’t there during sixth period when we have him for AP Ancient History.” Their schedules were nearly identical apart from an advanced painting class and some macho weight training class she wasn’t going to be part of with the rest of the pack youth. In fact, most of the pack youth had the same schedule because they liked to stick together in case of an emergency. They kept each other in check for the most part. The youth consisted of Murphy, Wells, Miller and Clarke (seniors) and Fox, Harper, Monroe, and Jasper (juniors). Fox hadn’t changed yet, but her mother was a highly ranked protector so she’d been brought up in the life just like Clarke, fully aware of what her elder pack-mates were up to most nights.
Murphy and Clarke rarely got along, but they tolerated each other due to a sense of survival. Wells and Clarke were good friends, their parents being on the council and everything kind of required them to get along. Either way, she had a group she was comfortable enough with throughout the day as well as a group that she could monitor in case of any indiscretion. Murphy had a habit of freaking out because he was pissed off and skipping school so he could run the anger off in the woods. Wells had a habit of causing him to freak out all the time. “Fine, we go to homeroom and meet the old guy but we walk in like complete badasses.” Clarke was kind of disappointed he didn't take the bait.
“Yeah—“ Miller made a weird noise in his throat that was between a cough and a laugh, “—because walking in with shades on definitely makes you a badass.” Clarke winked rather than throwing a punch, “You know it.” It took them two minutes to reach the door just as Miller said. Clarke looked down at her skin tight black jeans and black hiking boots and frowned. She wasn’t dressed for the first day of school. Normally, she took a more pastel approach to things. But today, her hair was wind-blown, wavy like she planned on trying the new summer look. At least, she had enough sense to put on some makeup, even if it was nude eyeshadow and some mascara. She mostly regretted the tight, almost crop-top length red shirt and the leather female biker jacket because it made her look like she’d gotten into some pretty heavy shit over break, but she couldn't change it now.
Instead of fretting, she walked into class behind Miller while pulling up her shades because she didn't need the rumor factory to start this early in the morning. People would think she was hungover by second period and everyone would ask her about it because they're nosy and annoying. Miller addressed the teacher, mumbling something about engine trouble while Clarke gave Wells and Murphy short head nods, indicating they were successful. Of course, her name was on the lips of the girls in the class who didn’t know that their whispering could be heard by her as a clear as day, she was used to it, though. She practically expected it.
Clarke shrugged it off, sitting in her desk. She shook off a wave of nausea, almost like she ate too much candy and decided to go on a roller coaster. Maybe her body was closer to combusting than she thought, maybe she was about to turn in front of everyone in the small classroom. She'd never been this bad off.
Her breathing became slightly uneven and she didn't know if it was because she was about to reveal her wolf form or because her nerves were shot to hell. Her heart was racing, pounding against her ribcage. “Clarke Griffin, I suppose…” A gravelly voice pulled her out of her thoughts, her eyes shooting up from the engraved desk towards the voice saying her name. Her first thought before her eyes focused was god, I hope he doesn’t think I’m hungover… but then she met his eyes and she felt like something completely shattered within her.
Instantly, she wanted to close her eyes—take it back. Never look at him again but she found herself gripping the cold metal pole of the desk with all her strength as he staggered back, sitting on top of his desk while he stared at her. The students would just assume he was clumsy because shifters move quicker than the human eyes can process, but she knew he was being affected by her presence. It pissed her off that she felt just as weak as he looked. The burn in her wrist was bearable, but only because she was squeezing metal between her fingers as she fought a hiss. She was giving herself a headache trying to fight off whatever connection they were eventually going to make because she didn't want this--god, she didn't want him. The entire class was buzzing about break and movies and the stupid shit they did with her summer and she was meeting her soulmate in the most surreal way. Her pupils were just as blown as his and she was starting to feel the bits of arousal Raven explained to her once upon a time, “We just wanted to jump each other’s bones all the time! Still do, actually. I wonder if that ever goes away…I hope not. We have great sex.”
Go away, she begged as her teeth connected with her lips until she could taste blood. She regained the ability to close her eyes, her body buzzing with anticipation until she had to suppress a feral growl. I can’t do this…I can’t do this… It wasn’t until Miller put a firm hand on her shoulder, whispering as low as he possibly could. The type of low that humans couldn’t begin to hear. “Breathe, Clarke. Just breathe…like they always tell us…you need to breathe and control yourself.” She tried to slow her breathing, tried to avoid the stranger who still hadn’t stopped looking at her like he just found the Holy Grail.
It wasn’t until Murphy mumbled something along the lines of, “Way to imprint with the fucking history teacher, Griffin. We know who’s getting an A this year” from beside her that she finally snapped out of the most intense moment of her life. Blood was rushing in her ears and she could barely hear anything around her except in that way in which things felt like a dream. She met his stunned eyes again, but she was cold. She didn’t need this to happen to her.
She wanted him, craved him—but she didn’t want a soulmate and the flicker in her dark cerulean orbs told him everything about her. Including the fact that she was very close to doing something stupid. For a moment, she saw hurt in his eyes but it quickly vanished. The bell rang and she stood, eyes falling to the recently cleaned tile. She snatched her coffee from the desk, chugged it and tossed it into the trash before Wells grabbed her hand and Murphy practically pushed her out into the hallway, probably scared she would do something as wild as he usually did when he got frustrated—she had that look in her eyes, the reckless one.
She glared down at her reddening wrist, at the black mark etched into her skin, like a fresh tattoo, that resembled an abstract infinity sign coupled with a series of dots and a thick line between the entire brand. No one knows the meaning of the designs, but she knows, somehow, it’s special even if she doesn’t want it to be…and she hates that, too.
“So, that just happened.” Miller cleared his throat as he sidled up to her as they headed towards their first-period class. “Damn…what did it feel like?”
“Like I need to take a cold shower,” Clarke grumbled lowly, her eyes narrowing at the thought. “This would only happen to me, you know? God, this is exactly what my mother wanted to happen this year so I wouldn’t go off to college.” The anger flooded every sense she had, but the anger was only a strong resentment for the entire mating concept. “He just stood there…just stood there looking at me and…it was like I wasn’t even myself anymore. Like I had no control over anything and that has got to be the worst realization for someone like me who has had a plan since freshman year to get the hell out of here.”
Murphy snorted, “And we all know you love your control and your plan to abandon us.”
“I’m not—“
“Can we not have this argument now?” Wells asked, pinching the bridge of his nose and finally releasing her hand in the process. “Clarke just connected with her soulmate. Our history teacher, Mr. Bellamy Blake that we’ve never met. He must be new to town. Now, the council says we must introduce every newcomer to the entire pack upon first meeting and assist them with the transition to our pack. It’s our obligation to bring him to the dinner welcoming back everyone from their summer vacations and greeting our newbie shifters.”
Clarke nearly choked, “That dinner is tonight. No way, Wells. No fucking way—if you’re my friend, you won’t do this tonight. I need time to think, to clear my head! This is so.... right now…I don’t even know what just happened. Plus, the council always knows there's someone new in town. Especially a male. Be logical, that's probably why his name sounded so familiar.” But even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. The council had no idea there was someone new in town...
Not this time at least.
“I think you’re in shock,” Miller commented with a soft look in his eyes. He was using his calming voice with her. She recognized it because he had just used it with Jasper last night. “ Just breathe, Clarke. You haven’t shifted in a week or more and whatever just happened…it might be too much for you to handle. You need to remain calm and steady. Wells, if you invite Blake to the goddamn dinner—it’s me versus you in the ring tonight, understand?”
“Yes.” Wells sighed as if it were going to ruin his life to break protocol once.
“Good.”
Clarke pressed her head to Miller’s shoulder for comfort because he'd always been her rock.
“Why do I feel like my entire life just ripped apart at the seams?"
Because it has.