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Word Count: 1902

Chapter One:

 "Today class, we shall be discussing the history of mate-tattoos." My history professor stood in front of the Promethean Board, his shiny forehead reflecting light under the harsh rays of the projector. 

Mate-Tattoos are simple, one thousand years ago, humans developed tattoo-like birthmarks that matched you to your soulmate, your other half, your perfect fit - whatever. Only you and this person have the same tattoo, not anyone else in the world. Some people are born with  beautiful mate-tattoos: a single rose with a pedal falling from it, a stormy ocean, a decorated crescent moon. They can have color or be plain black, they can be extravagantly complex or completely simple, but everyone has one, and only two people in the world have it. 

The tattoos usually originate on the neck, forearm, or lower back, but can be found anywhere on the body that is visible. Usually they are small, but the unlucky people get large ones, ugly ones, or large ugly ones. 

When the humans died out, a new creature - us - rose from their ashes, we are basically humans exactly, minus a couple special tricks. The Elders call us the De Terra, claiming that we are blessed by the land and from the land, but that is just our religion. As a De Terra, eye-sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch are all enhanced. 

The tattoos are not the only thing that helps you find your soulmate, but your soulmate also smells like something mouth-watering, and when you touch tingles erupt from the contact, but that's just what I've heard. 

Soul mates are usually found around age eighteen, when all of your senses are officially enhanced, and your tattoo becomes for defined. Because the tattoo changes ever-so-slightly after you're eighteenth birthday, people who believed they were soul mates end up not being each others  perfect fit and find themselves heart broken. 

But everyone has one, so there is never lost hope of love. 

Well, everyone has one, except for me of course. 

I'm a disgrace to my family, I don't have a soul-mate. Another half of me, my perfect puzzle piece, he isn't out there and it doesn't bother me too much, but it sure as hell bothers everyone else. 

Being unmated is a death-sentence from birth. People who don't find their mates before they are thirty-five usually go mad and kill themselves or the elders do it for them. That's why so many galas and meetings are held worldwide, as well as online forums where you can post your tattoo and hope to find your one and only, they're made so people don't go crazy. 

When I was born butt-bare, not a single freckle or speck coating my skin, no tattoo in sight, my mother panicked and drew a random design onto my arm with eyeliner, so when one of the Elders came to record my tattoo, I'd have one. 

The same design has been painted onto my skin for so many years it basically is my skin but I must keep doing it, if the Elders were to find out, my family would be executed for treason and I would be killed on account of suspected murder - a murder in which I hadn't yet committed.

I'm twenty-three, and I know my soul mate isn't out there, but sometimes I dream about what it would be like to have my perfect match, the man who would love me unconditionally with no exceptions. 

"Ms. Jade, would you care to answer my question?" My eyes snapped up to see my professor standing in front of my desk, his eyes narrowing like a hawk's and his neck craning like a chicken's. A blush crept onto my cheeks as I stared him in the eye, embarrassment evident on my features, he had caught me zoning out.  

"My apologies sir, would you repeat the question?" I gave him a smile, and I watched my eyes turn purple I'm the reflection of his now glassy ones. 

He stared at me like I was his idol before saying, "Of Course! Who was the first couple to be soul mates?" 

I'm the only person ever,besides few in the past, as I know, who doesn't have a tattoo, which is weird by itself, but of course Fate just had to make it weirder. I have - as my mother would say - "gifts blessed to you by Fate" which basically translate to "gifts that make you even more of a freak of nature", so yay me. 

I can persuade someone into doing whatever I say with just a change of color in my eyes, I can move things just by looking at them, I can freeze or heat up things, and perhaps other things if I really wanted to. 

"Adam and Eve sir, although they didn't have tattoos like we do. But they were definitely superior to the humans." I answered my professor, my eyes still purple. 

Now go over to your desk, sit down, and tell everyone to talk quietly until class is over.

Almost puppet like, my teacher made his way to his desk, slowly sat himself down, and ordered that the class converse quietly until the end of the lesson. I smirked slightly to myself before turning to my best-friend, Angelica, who was staring down at her tattoo on her forearm and tracing it slowly. 

Angelica was one of the lucky people who got a beautiful tattoo that was medium sized, across her forearm. 

It was considerably beautiful, and I was envious. Everything about Angelica was envy worthy. She had blonde hair, baby blue eyes and perfect symmetrical features which made her enticingly   beautiful. 

"What's wrong?" I asked her softly, nudging her shoulder. She sighed, stopped tracing her tattoo and looked up at me sadly, her eyes held unshed tears. 

"Jackson's been gone for more than two weeks and I miss him." She pouted her lower lip slightly before glancing down at her tattoo.

Another reason I was jealous of Angelica was because since she had a tattoo, she had a mate. During,  her eighteenth birthday party, her brother invited over some good friends, and like every cliché ever, her brothers best friend was her mate. 

The issue with mates - and why I really do not want one anyways - Is that nature basically makes them fall in love with you, as you do them. You miss them if their gone for a couple of hours, you always want to be near them, you get insanely jealous if someone else flirts with them, kissing them is extremely "pleasurable" (or at least that's what Angelica has told me) and the two of you understand each other. They smell like your favorite scent, are much more beautiful to you then any other, and everything is better with them -cough- -cough- the sexual tension rises. 

When you find your mate, there are steps you must do to make each other officially yours. And to make it even worse, you have four months after meeting to complete the tasks before the earth unbind you as mates, and erases your tattoos forever. When this happens, the Elders will not lock you up or kill you after age thirty-five, because the earth has taken away all of your feelings for that person, so you won't go crazy. I've heard having the earth unbind you from your mate is extremely painful, and some even die during the process. 

Unbounded mates usually find other unbounded mates and complete the mating ritual with them, which the earth accepts as a sacrifice. 

The mating ritual, begins by sharing each other's chi, which is basically a pleasant way of saying "Slit your wrists kiddos and rub them with another persons in a sexual way". After your chi has been shared, you must mark the other person, which is exactly what those barbaric Werewolves do to their mates, and that is why we suspect that either Adam Or Eve were a Lycan, and that makes us their descendants. To mark the other person, -in a rush of sexual arousal must I add - the two peoples canines grow sharper, and they bite into each others collar bond flesh for more than three minutes, which according to Angelica: is the best feeling in the world. After the canines have been retracted, a tattoo shapes on theirs shoulders inside the bite, which matches their mates. After marking, the mates must then...mate. 

The whole thing is really quite barbaric, which makes me happy that I don't have a mate. 

"Jackson's coming home later today remember Angelica? I'm going with you to the airport to pick him up, and when you get home you can do the dirty all night long." I wink at her as her face grows red. "Shut up," she mumbled playing with her fingers. 

Angelica's mate, Jackson, is an adviser to the King,  and had to go away for a meeting with the King and his son, The Prince, to discuss when the crowning ceremony will be. Higher ranking males and females are much more possessive over their mates, which is another tally on my long list of reasons I'm glad I don't have a mate. 

"Angelica sweetie, I saw the lingerie you have in your bag, I was there at Victorias Secret when you bought it." I taunted. Angelica giggled blushing more before she stood up as the bell rang. 

"Welp, what happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom." She winked at me before we made our way to the exit of the University, shoving past some kids as we went. 

We climbed into Angelica's  black Camaro and she turned to me smiling brightly. "The prince is coming to town." She sing-songed wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. "And since we don't know what his tattoo is, he could be your mate for all we know!" 

As tradition, the prince does not reveal his tattoo to anyone until he turns twenty-five, or sooner if he finds his mate. Twenty-five is the age that a prince or princess is coronated into the king/Queen, so on their twenty fifth birthday, the prince goes on a four month journey to find his mate if they haven't already been found. 

I roll my eyes at Angelica, "We are the second town he's coming to Angel, and knowing as fate wants it, he'll find a mate in the first town." She sighed dreamily, "Yeah well it's fun to fantasize. I wouldn't mind staring at that hunk of sexy all day." She let out a childlike giggle when I slapped her arm playfully. 

"Don't let Jackson hear you say that or you might have more..." I coughed awkwardly, "Problems in the bedroom." For the bazillionth time today, Angelica's cheeks tinted red and she turned away, starting the ignition of the Camaro. 

"Sh-Shush." She grumbled as silence settled over our heads. 

Angelica doesn't know about my mate-tattoo, or lack thereof, she believes that the design drawn on my forearm is an actual mate-tattoo. 

The crescent moon shape drawing on my arm is honestly beautiful - my mother is a painter - but it's a pain in the you know what to have to always retrace it so it doesn't look faded. 

As we neared the "De Terra National Airport" Angelica started squirming in her seat, excited to finally see her made. I rolled my eyes again and sighed, 

"Jackson-Ville here we come."