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Ken had been Marked when he was seven years old.
Even now he could recall it in perfect detail.
He had grown up on a farm and was surrounded by trees, nature, and the peace and calmness that came with living in the province. His family wasn’t rich, but they did all right and he had no shortage of friends to play with or adventures to embark on. Day in and day out, Ken's life had been filled with the tranquility of a simple life and the joy of living.
But one late afternoon, he and his cousins had been playing close to the forest just past their land when a werewolf suddenly came out from between the trees.
Ken had been closest to where the wolf had come out from, and by the time he had stumbled back and fallen on his behind in shock, his cousins had already ran away.
Ken had been frozen in fear at first. The werewolf was larger than life, with pale fur that seemed to glisten in the late afternoon sun, big eyes that looked right at Ken, and a huge mouth with sharp teeth that was undoubtedly going to bite him and maybe eat him. (Never mind that werewolves were well known to hurt but not necessarily eat humans.)
But as the werewolf had moved closer, Ken had seen that it wasn’t as scary as he had expected.
More than scared, Ken had been… intrigued .
Because the wolf’s pale fur had seemed to glisten against the late orange sunlight, his big eyes had been the richest brown Ken had ever seen, and it had walked calmly towards him with a gentle growl that seemed more like a purr.
Ken had laughed when the werewolf had moved closer, pressing his nose just at the jut of his neck and letting out a wuff. It had tickled. And when Ken buried his hands and his face against his fur, it had felt soft and silky under his cheek and had smelled like mint leaves and the early morning rain.
It was like peace he had never known.
The bite that had come after had stung, but only a little. It hadn’t even bled, though for some reason it had left a long and pale scar on his neck that would follow Ken all his life.
For a moment, young Ken had hoped that the werewolf would shift and show him what his human form was like, but Ken’s parents and uncles and some of the neighbors had come running right then, waving all sorts of weapons to try and scare the wolf away.
The werewolf hadn’t seemed scared, eyes seeming to roll in exasperation at the hollering, though he had gracefully retreated after licking Ken’s neck one last time.
Young Ken had found the experience extraordinary; his family, not so much.
See, werewolves weren’t uncommon nowadays. They were… accepted, though it was mostly because humans would be stupid to offend a race that could undoubtedly tear them apart. (Especially after the old tales had been debunked—no, they transformed at will and not only during full moons; no, they weren’t weak to silver or any other element, though they were far stronger and sturdier than any human; and no, they didn’t eat people though they would hurt them if provoked.) But for the most part, werewolves largely kept to themselves and most of them preferred hiding their true nature. There were a few well-known werewolves, most of whom were ambassadors or representatives of their kind, but an uneasy truce had been established on all fronts to keep the peace.
However, a point of contention that arose between humans and werewolves was the idea of being Marked.
Because one thing the stories got right was that werewolves had a predilection for Marking their territory, which included people, specifically mates.
At seven years old, Ken had been too young to take as a mate, but his family had no doubts that when he was old enough, Ken would be taken.
And so, frightened and unsure, they did everything they could to keep Ken safe. They tried to remove or heal the scar on his neck any way they could, employing all sorts of techniques or asking all sorts of people for advice. (Some of them were okay, but some of them hurt. Ken hadn't liked those.) They made him wear strong-smelling cologne to hide his scent from a wolf’s sharp nose. (Ken took baths so often just so he could find that scent of mint and rain that clung to him. Sometimes when he closed his eyes and concentrated really hard, he'd still find it under the acrid scent of perfume.) They even discouraged him from doing anything out of the ordinary to lessen any attention on him. (It was hard, so hard, to lose friends, to keep quiet all the time, to hide.)
Then when Ken was thirteen, they had the idea to put him on a plane and send him to live with his aunt in the city. They thought that out there, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the city life, there were less chances of Ken being found. So after a childhood in the peace and tranquility of the farm, Ken was thrown into the big, loud, and erratic energy of the city life.
He found his life changing the second time around.
(Being Marked had been the first.)
Secretly, Ken had always preferred the first change rather than the latter.
And he had known that their efforts were all in vain.
Living in the city was difficult. It was exciting, true, but Ken wasn’t a fan of the constant noise and vigor.
(Ken hated it actually, hated the lack of sun and stars, hated the scent of the gutter and the blinding smog that overtook fond memories of the scent of flowers and the sunlight peeking through leafy green foliage overhead, hated the shouting and the screeching and the lack of cawing birds and the babbling brooks and the sound of nature. He hated it .)
His only saving grace had been finding solace in music. He had always been inclined towards it, but he had found a deeper appreciation for it as he grew older and found himself retreating into the safe embrace of a guitar’s long neck or the smooth ivory keys of a piano.
His family didn’t mind his sudden obsession with music so long as he graduated from university and, more importantly, kept a low profile.
It didn’t work.
(Sometimes Ken thought that making such a big deal of it had tempted Fate even more.)
Ken had been in the park that day with his friends Stell and Justin. They were graduating in a few weeks so they were just hanging out before they faced the real world. (Ken had faced the real world the moment he had been sent here against his will when he was thirteen.)
They were stretched along the grass under a tree, soaking in the sun and full from the lunch they’d bought along the way. Ken had brought along his guitar and was strumming it idly when Stell requested a song. Ken wasn’t really into performing in public, but he was with friends and there weren’t too many people around, so he sang for his friends, all three of them singing along. It was after he strummed the guitar one last time when he noticed two older men standing by the trail, watching them. One was tall with long dark hair and piercing eyes, dressed in a dark blue sweater and flowy black pants. The shorter man with dark hair was in a black button-up and black jeans.
The moment Ken met his eyes, even from a distance, he knew.
“Oh.”
“What is it?” Justin asked, looking around. He ducked his head and hissed, “Why are those older men looking at us?”
Stell looked up and shrugged. “I think they’re just looking, Jah.”
Ken couldn’t take his eyes away from him. He put his guitar to one side and got to his feet.
It was like some sort of gravitational pull.
“Ken, where are you going?” Justin demanded.
Ken had been walking before he had even noticed it.
“I know him,” was all he said, jogging towards the pair.
The man with long hair whispered something to the other before he walked off.
“The one with the long hair is good-looking,” Ken heard Stell say from behind him. Stell had never really learned how to whisper.
Once he got close enough, Ken saw it. The man’s clear skin reminded Ken of pale fur and his brown eyes were familiar, a color Ken felt like he’d known all his life. He had a nice jawline and a scar across his eyebrow. When he smiled, he looked even more handsome.
He was first to speak.
“Hello, Ken.”
Ken wasn’t surprised that the other knew his name.
“Hello,” he said, voice hushed.
“Shall we sit?” the man asked, motioning to a nearby park bench.
Ken followed after, sitting far too close than would be expected of strangers. (But they weren’t strangers to each other.) They sat in silence, but Ken found it comforting rather than awkward. The other had a calm presence and Ken immediately smelled the scent of mint and rain. It made him relax, shoulders sinking, spine unwinding, and soul sighing .
Ken smiled shyly, though he knew he never had to be shy towards the other man.
“Um, may I know your name?”
He smiled. “It’s Josh Cullen. Josh is fine.”
“Josh Cullen,” Ken murmured. He noticed Josh roll his shoulders at hearing that, like a pleased little gesture. “I like your name.”
“Thank you.” He looked at Ken closely, as if studying him. Ken didn't mind the scrutiny, didn't mind the attention. “How long has it been?”
“I’m turning twenty in a few months,” Ken replied.
Josh hummed. “Thirteen years then…”
A warm breeze wafted in their direction and Ken noticed Josh take a deep breath. He unconsciously let out a low growl. Ken jumped.
Josh rubbed his face. “Ah, sorry.”
“No, no!” Ken shook his head. “I was surprised, but not in a bad way.”
Josh huffed, and Ken vaguely heard him murmur something about control.
“It's all right,” Ken insisted. “I wasn't scared or anything. I would never be, of you.”
His words made Josh smile. He made to say something, only to pause. He then cleared his throat.
“Your friends are worrying about you.”
He nodded to where Stell and Justin were. They were trying and failing not to look like they were watching them. Josh’s companion was seated in another bench a ways away, legs crossed and reading a book, but Ken knew he was also listening to them.
“You can hear them all the way over there?” Ken asked curiously.
Josh chuckled. “Yes. We have sharp ears. And…” He tilted his head. “I can hear you wherever you are.”
Ken mulled that thought over. “Did you follow me to the city?”
“Yes,” Josh answered honestly. “But members of my pack live in this city too. It wasn’t difficult to follow you.”
“Then why did you only come find me now?” Ken asked.
“I was waiting for your graduation,” Josh said, shrugging. “I know it’s important to you, so I decided not to intervene.” He reached out, fingers ghosting across the back of Ken’s hand, so close but not enough to touch. “But when I heard you sing, I couldn’t resist.”
“Oh.” Ken felt his cheeks warm up.
“You sang beautifully, you always do.” Josh’s gaze was heavy with intent, but not cloying or suffocating. It was like a calming weight that kept Ken tethered to something real. “I love hearing your voice, almost as much as I love hearing your heartbeat.”
Ken shifted in his seat. Why did those words make him feel hot under the collar?
“Thank you,” he murmured. He noticed Stell waving a hand impatiently. “Um, Josh, I…”
He was torn.
“Oh, I—it’s just—”
“Would you like to come with me?” Josh asked.
“Yes,” Ken immediately said, nodding. “I just have to… I have to…” He stood up. “I have to say goodbye first.”
“Anything you want, Ken.” Josh nodded and smiled.
Ken felt his heart beating madly in his chest.
“Okay.” He waved his hands at him, a motion to stay put. “Just—just wait here, okay? Don’t leave.”
“You should know that I can’t leave you, darling,” Josh said softly.
Oh.
Ken felt a frisson of pleasure down his spine. It felt really good to hear that.
Ken hastened back to Stell and Justin. He wasn’t sure what he said, only that he felt as if he was in a haze. He grabbed his bag, left his guitar with Stell, and then ran back to Josh. At the back of his mind, he noticed Josh’s companion had left his bench and was now approaching his friends, but his eyes were all for Josh.
Josh held out a hand and Ken immediately reached for it. Ken’s eyes widened as their bare skin made contact for the first time and he swallowed at the heat that licked his spine.
The older man took a deliberate lungful of air and then exhaled with a low growl. The Mark on Ken’s neck seemed to throb.
Josh squeezed his hand. At this light, his brown eyes looked an unearthly gold.
“Let’s go.”
Ken nodded. As he followed Josh, everything in his head, including the noise of the city, seemed to fade into silence and all that was left was his soft breaths, his heartbeat in his ears, and the pervading feeling of calmness that enveloped him. He reached up, touching the thin scar across his neck. It felt like it was pulsing in time with his—no, with Josh’s heartbeat.
Ken’s parents had always run away from this. He hadn’t. Because he had always known this was meant to be. Ken was Marked and he liked it that way.
And now, his werewolf had finally found him.
Finally.
A breeze blew past, bringing towards Ken the scent of mint and rain, and for the first time in a long time, he finally felt peace.