A/N: Yay! New story! I'm hoping this Will get me out of my funk and to get my mind of school and soccer. My life is kinda intense right now so this'll be fun. So this is kind of a double prompt I guess. Like humans v.s. werewolves and a little thing based off a one-shot I read where the name of their soulmate shows up on their skin on their eighteenth birthday. I always wanted to write both those prompts but never had enough inspiration to write them. I guess together works though.

Chapter 1:

"You'll love him in time."

Those were words often said in Clove's culture.

It was a culture where children, barely eighteen (maybe nineteen), were married off to someone they might not even know. It wasn't arranged per say. Who one marries is all decided by a mark that appears on one's skin on one's eighteenth birthday. That mark is the name of their soulmate.

Usually they find each other and the next thing the couple knows is they're hitched and living in their own homes while barely knowing each other.

That's where the whole "you'll love him in time" thing comes in.

Given, the saying is true. It's impossible to not love your soulmate after all. It's been that way for centuries and will never change.

Another popular saying Clove heard continuously growing up was, "never trust a werewolf."

This one was said much more often then the first. Almost a day to day basis around young children.

You see, reader, humans and werewolves live together in the town of Panem, but are at a type of war over something forgotten generations ago.

It's settled down, though. The last killing was fourteen years ago.

That was when Clove's parents were killed by a Samuel Hadley. She was told there was no reason besides his hatred for humans as a reason for killing them.

That's why Clove keeps knives in the waistband oh her jeans, just in case she needs to protect herself from one of them.

Little did she know, she would end up loving one of the creatures she spent her whole life hating.

XxXxX

It was the morning of his eighteenth birthday.

Clove didn't know anything besides his name and the fact that his father brutally killed her parents when she was little. They might have had a class together at some point, but she never really paid enough attention. Truthfully, she never cared much about him.

But that was before he had grabbed her arm and threw her into the closest classroom. She had pulled her knife out of the waistband of her jeans and he had only raised up his hands in some type of surrender.

"Woah, calm down, sweetheart, I'm not going to kill you." Those were the first words Cato Hadley, the love of her life, had ever said to her.

Her knife lowered, but she didn't put it away or lower her guard any less. "And why should I do that. Can't all you werewolves do right is kill?"

He forced out a sarcastic laugh. "Only when it comes to your kind. But that's not why I pulled you in here."

Her eyes narrowed and her arms crossed over her chest. The knife caught the spring light streaming in from the windows, she really hoped she looked menacing enough not to try to kill.

He was huge, even for a werewolf. At least 6'3" and muscular with blond hair and blue eyes that seemed to stare into her soul. The, on the other hand, was at a good foot shorter then him and her brown hazel eyes aren't nearly as terrifying as his.

"Then why did you?"

He stepped closer to her and Clove held her ground, trying to seem like she wasn't afraid. Really, she was terrified. He lifted up his shirt so she could see her first name etched in black on his chest.

"That is why."

Her eyes widened and her fingers reached out to trace over the name. It was her writing and she could almost see the start of an S after the E.

"You're the only Clove for miles, right? Figured it'd be you and by the look on your face, I'm right," Cato said. His tone with serious as was the look on his face.

Clove drew her fingers away and the thin fabric of his shirt fell. Their eyes bore into each other's and all that was present was hatred. "Doesn't mean you're mine," was all she replied.

"And his often does that happen?" He scoffed.

She shrugged. "About as often as a werewolf falls in love with a human."

He growled. He sounded like a dog about to bite and made shivers run down Clove's spine. "Just because it's your name doesn't mean I'm in love with you."

Whatever you say," she smirked at him. She pushed past him to the door, open ending and moving to walk out before turning her head back. "Oh, and happy birthday."