The Lycan King’s Abused Mate

7.

***

Summer for Aiden meant recuperation from the trials of the previous season. It usually meant a first week of lying around and sleeping until noon, allowing himself the pleasures of which he had abstained from during the season. It meant rest and relaxation, and a chance to let loose and have some fun for a change.

But he decided he would be having none of that this summer. As early as the second week of the summer break, Aiden was back in training and working to get himself ready for the next season.

He left for the gym as early as 5:30 in the morning, and he spent three hours before coming back and having his breakfast and a quick shower before he went up to Cal Lutheran in Thousand Oaks for some practice. Most of it was just conditioning, and preparing himself for the next season. The memory of his defeat still weighed heavily on his mind, and he could feel the dozens of stares everywhere he went. But he was determined to prove them all wrong. He had done it before, and he was going to do it again.

On a Tuesday morning, while he was practicing long throws with Fredrick, who offered to join when he heard his new routine. His other teammates -Jones and Harry- offered to join them as well.

For the most part, Aiden felt like they had everything under control. Fredrick read him like a book, and he knew exactly where he was throwing the ball to even before Aiden himself did. He would be off in a flash, weaving between Jones and Harry before they could even realise where he was, and no matter how hard or how far Aiden threw it, the ball would somehow always land in Fred’s clutches.

After the fiftieth catch, Aiden decided to switch it up.

“Fred, you throw, and I’ll catch,” he said, wiping the sweat on his brows.

“Why?”

“I need to check something,” Aiden said. He did not elaborate any more than he had to, because he did not feel it was necessary. He had watched the video a thousand times already, and he knew exactly how long it took Spencer Brady to catch up to him. Harry was the fastest among them, and he could easily match Brady’s speed. All he needed to do was be sure that he could have beaten Brady if it came down to it.

He took up his position, sweat glistening on his bare back and all over his face. He dug his heels into the ground, watching Harry’s movement. Fred made the call, and as soon as he moved, Aiden took off like a fired arrow. His eyes were dead set on the touchline, and he sprinted forward at breakneck pace. The wind roared past, and he kept Harry in his vision as he looked over his shoulder and noted the arching ball, hurtling towards him. He stretched his arm up, easily avoiding Jones who leapt at him and snatching the ball out of the air. He tucked it close to his chest and kept on running, constantly watching Harry and checking his run to make sure that he would be able to outrun him. He counted down the seconds in his head, and when he crossed the line with Harry behind him by at least twenty yards, he felt relief flooding his veins.

So what exactly had gone wrong during the game? Surely a few seconds of distraction shouldn’t have served as a reason for Brady to catch up to him in 9.6 seconds. When he watched the footage, he could pinpoint the exact moment when he started slowing down, and even thought it had been for less than ten seconds, it was enough for Brady to catch up to him.

“Let’s try it again,” he said, throwing the ball back to Fred and getting Harry and Jones back to their starting position. They did the run a second time, and then a third time. Aiden continued to outrun Harry, which he found baffling. Harry was just as fast as Brady, if not even faster. So how could he have lost in such a pathetic manner?

“Again,” he said, throwing the ball to Fred once again.

“I think you should let this go, Aiden,” Fred said as he threw the ball back at him. “We lost, and there’s nothing we can do to change it. We should move on.”

Aiden glared at him as he held the ball. Harry and Jones walked away instantly, leaving the two to discuss such a sensitive topic.

“What did you say?” Aiden asked.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Fred said. “You’re trying to recreate the final play and see if you would have had a chance. But the fact is that we lost, and the sooner you accept it and move on, the better it will be for you.”

“Don’t talk to me about moving on,” Aiden snapped. “You have no idea what it’s like to let your entire team down because of one momentary lapse in judgement. It was my mistake that cost us the game, Fred. I need to make sure it never happens again.“

“It wasn’t your fault,” Fred said. “Brady was just better, and we lost collectively as a team. The rest of us have accepted it already, and you need to do the same.”

Aiden turned away from him. Fred didn’t understand what this defeat meant to him; none of them did. For most of his teammates, defeat meant they could try again and be content even if they didn’t win. Most of them didn’t really care about winning the Super Bowl. For them, it would be a nice accomplishment if they could win it, but they weren’t as obsessed with winning as he was. They did not live and breath everyday solely for the hope that they would one day lift the NFL trophy.

“Practice is over,” he announced as he grabbed his gear and marched off the field. He did not look back at his teammates, and he didn’t stop until he reached his car. He sat for a brief moment and took a deep breath before he set off, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that he felt it was going to snap in two.

How could they understand? How could they know the reason why he wanted to win so badly? None of them dreamed the way he did. None of them had the drive or the hunger which he possessed. His need to win was all-consuming, and it was something that he could not keep down no matter what.

He had been barely six years old when his father had taken him to the Georgia Dome, and they had stood in the middle of the stadium with Aiden sitting on his shoulders and they looked around in a mixture of awe and disbelief.

“Take a good look at it, son,” his father had said, with his voice choke-full of emotion. “This is the big leagues. This is what it’s all about. That trophy belongs to us, and it’s the only thing we should aim for. It’s the pinnacle of our achievements, and the greatest gift we can ever hope to get our hands on. Men are made or broken on the final stage, and they will either rise to the occasion or fail and crash before their enemies. You must never be one of those who fails. You must always be a winner, because second place is the first loser. And I know I didn’t get a loser as a son.”

Those words still rang true to this day, and Aiden took a deep breath as he tried to calm himself. It didn’t matter whether they thought he was obsessive or not. He would find a way to do this, with or without them.

When he got home, it was to find Sarah making a salad in the kitchen with an apron around her. Aiden didn’t even know where she got the apron from. She jumped at the sight of him, and she looked slightly nervous as she stared down at her hands.

“How long have you been awake?” he asked.

“A while,” she replied. “I thought you would like something to eat when you get back.”

“A salad isn’t food,” he said. “I appreciate the thought, however.”

She pursed her lips as she stared down at the ingredients which she had just put into a bowl. Her face was contorted in concentration, and she looked like she was trying to recall something she’d forgotten. Aiden felt bad for shutting her down so quickly. She was just trying to help after all.

“I’ll have a shower first, before I eat,” he said. Sarah immediately beamed, and he felt his lips twitch slightly as he made his way up the stairs. It was clear that she still hadn’t adjusted to staying here, but he had assured her that she could stay as long as she wanted and do whatever she liked. Clearly she was still battling with some trauma from her past, and Aiden knew that he had to tread carefully around her. He didn’t want to risk doing anything that would cause her to relive any of her horrible memories.

He had just reached for the door handle when he suddenly felt something shift in him. Something exploded within him, and he dropped his bag and clutched his head as a terrible pain exploded through. It was as if someone had taken a large axe and was slamming it repeatedly against his head.

His door melted away, and he suddenly found himself standing in a garden underneath an apple tree, with two people whose backs were turned to him. It was a man and a woman, and the man was gripping the woman tightly as his hand slipped underneath her shirt. She was struggling against his grip, but the hungry look in the man’s eyes told him that he was not about to let her go.

“Please, let me go,” she said, and the sound of her voice tore through Aiden like a hot knife. He felt himself falling, the sound like a distant call which resonated within him and made him question his own reality. It was like a siren call, a melodious tone which reached out to him from across an ocean of doubt and hesitation.

And then the anger came, and all he wanted to do was rip the man’s head off for violating her like this. The scene melted suddenly, and he found himself slumped against the wall, his vision blurred and his hands trembling. The rage lingered, and he took several deep breaths to calm himself.

He struggled to his feet, and as he shoved the door open, he dragged himself into the room and collapsed onto the bed.

His mate was in trouble; he could sense it even now. He needed to get to her, but he had no idea how he was going to do that. He didn’t even know exactly where she was. All he could do was speculate, and so far there was no indication that he would be right or wrong.

He mind-linked Axel and asked him whether he was able to complete the order. The response he got was encouraging, and it filled him with a hope that he could be on the verge of meeting her.

“Alpha Luke of the Lamia pack has accepted your offer to parley,” Axel said. “He will meet you on Friday at his manor.”

Aiden sighed to himself. Soon, he would have her by his side.

And then all would be well.

If only he knew how bad things were going to get.

***