One
Marcellus
The plane was packed. There were times he was extremely grateful for his family’s wealth because he was able to afford a seat in first class where he'd have a little more legroom. Marcellus lugged his carry-on behind him and stored it in the overhead locker before settling down in his seat. They hadn't even taken off yet and his belly swam nervously.
Maybe he should have taken the train since it was an extra hour between departures, and it would have meant having more time to get himself together. Goddess, he needed every moment he could find to prepare for meeting his mate.
He was off to Paris. The plane would be taking off soon, and Marcellus bounced his leg up and down in anticipation. As soon as they landed, he would get to meet up with Wes. His omega, his future mate. Goddess, that made him crazy. Just thinking about seeing the man that he would be fated to, could be fated to...
Marcellus started to overthink it again. Every Baines brother had been fated to one of his, and Wes was the last one. Of course they would end up fated, right?
Then again, he wouldn't really know until they were around each other, until he took in his scent and felt that bond that had told his brothers they’d found the ones that would be their forevers. The one that they now loved and had pups with.
He leaned back in his seat and buckled in. Marcellus closed his eyes, and he was back to that day when he was sitting on the floor with his nephew and talking about Wes with Malek. It seemed like ages ago when, in all actuality, it had only been a few weeks.
The speaker crackled overhead, and the announcement came that they were preparing for take off. If Marcellus was nervous before, he felt like he would be sick now. He told himself over and over that there was nothing to worry about and smiled as he imagined what it would be like meeting Wes.
Soon. Fuck, he couldn’t believe he was going to be able to lay eyes on Wes at last. Cellus said a prayer to the goddess that he wasn’t wrong, and that the last Baines brother was his. His mate.
The plane taxied down the runway and finally lifted into the sky. He leaned back, took a deep breath, and tried to rest. But it was like trying to fill a bucket with a sieve. Impossible. All he could think about was Wes, and between him and his wolf, well, his nervous-excitement level was at a hundred.
What if Wes wasn't as excited as Marcellus was? He was going to fly to another country and tell the man that they were fated. What if Wes didn't believe it, or he didn't like it, or...
Crap and damnation. He needed to stop overthinking everything. Marcellus sucked in a breath and pressed the button to get the cabin crew’s attention. He decided to order himself a glass of champagne and relax. Everything could wait until he got there and met the man. For the moment, he just needed to sit back and get to Paris.
When the plane landed, everything was fine. Until, that was, he stepped foot outside the airport, then his nervousness hit him like a ten-ton truck. He'd done the research—well, he’d paid to have it done—and he knew where Wes was going to be.
That wasn’t creepy, right? At least that was what he kept telling himself. Wes had moved on from doing private work and was now at a museum. He was quite sought after. Apparently, he was really, really good at his job.
Marcellus hailed a taxi and climbed inside. The city flew by, but he couldn't focus on the beauty of his surroundings. Instead, his thoughts remained fully on Wes and meeting him. He considered going straight to the museum, but in the end, decided against it.
“Breathe, Cellus. Breathe. Check-in, reset, then you can go find your mate.”
Talking to himself didn’t help in the least. All his mind centred on was the fact that he was actually going to see his mate face to face. Butterflies seemed to have taken up residence in his stomach. It was like his heart was beating in his throat.
None of that would stop him, though. Cellus knew he had to see it through. He needed to find out if the last Baines brother was going to be his own forever.
He stopped long enough to check into his hotel to make sure everything was perfect. He turned on the shower and rummaged through his clothes until he found something that was acceptable to wear. A black button-up shirt, dark jeans, and his favourite Dior driving shoes felt perfect for the occasion. At least, he hoped they were.
Okay, he was second-guessing everything again.Stop it. Cellus, take a deep breath.
He took his own advice.
Why are you acting like you’re heading to the guillotine? You’re going to meet your mate! Besides, no one would blame him for being on edge and excited at the same time. This was a big deal. Meeting their mates had changed his brothers’ lives.
And he was so ready.
Marcellus quickly showered and dried off before he dressed in the clothes that he'd picked out, and then took the time to style his hair and make sure every bit of his appearance was perfect.
"Alright, let's do this." He smiled at his reflection in the mirror. "Let's go get my”—his wolf raised his head—”sorry,ourmate."
The confidence kind of came back, but he still felt that nervous twinge in his gut. Marcellus double-checked that he had grabbed everything and then left the room. After making his way to the lobby, he stepped out into the beauty of Paris, which he was noticing for the first time since his arrival.
The world felt different—new—knowing what he was about to do. He shook his head at himself. When the hell did he get so fanciful?
Marcellus grabbed another taxi and headed to the Musée des Beaux-Arts. When he was dropped off out front, he avoided going in right away because he needed a moment to calm his racing heart.
Fuck, his brothers should have told him how nerve-wracking this was.
