Alpha's Torn Heart

Shattered Hearts

- MURTAGH'S POV - 

Connor?

I tried to call my wolf, but no answer came from him. Not even an insult, or an irritated snort. For two hours, and precisely since I had implicitly declared that I did not want Katherine, he had stopped talking to me, or even just sharing his feelings about the whole situation.

Come on, you know perfectly well why I had to do it, I snorted. You jumped on her like a f*****g dog in heat! If I hadn't stopped you, you would have boned her there in front of everyone.

Not even the provocation made him answer me, so I angrily sank a slice of garlic bread into the cheesy fondue in front of me. The wedding feast had begun almost an hour ago and not even the shadow of the first of the main courses was in sight. What the hell were the Omegas doing in the kitchen?! Braiding each other's hair and painting their nails?

I just wanted the night to end as soon as possible. It was becoming unbearable. Both my mother and my father had the same expression on their faces, which meant "prepare your butt for the spanking". Connor had decided to ignore me. All members of my pack and Katherine's were coming to our table to congratulate us on a bond neither of us wanted. She was sitting next to me, and being so close to her, I couldn't help but look at her or smell her perfume, which had already caused me an unwanted erection. And as if that wasn't enough, she did nothing to hide the hatred she felt for me: from the outside, her smiles and thanks for the good wishes seemed wonderfully pure and sincere, but because of the bond we now shared it was impossible for me to ignore the anger and hatred in her voice.

In that moment I saw my parents stand up.

Great, I snorted. As if that day couldn't get worse!

"Here you are!" my father gave us a dazzling smile. "Katie! The last time I saw you, you were still walking on all fours. You truly are all grown up".

"That's true," Mom echoed. Katherine blushed slightly, and in a delicious way.

No! No, I told myself firmly. You don't even have to think about it. She is not the right woman for you. That's enough.

"Thank you" she replied with a soft, polite smile.

"You don't mind if I steal my son for five minutes, do you?" dad asked her.

You really had to put it that way, huh?

By now I had understood something about Katherine, even if we hadn't even spoken a single word to each other: she hated me and would have taken any opportunity to remind me that.

A smirk came to her face, and she shook her head. "Oh, not at all!" he exclaimed, clearly feigning a heartfelt tone. She was perfectly aware that my father knew of my "rejection", since he was right behind me when I said those words, so she accentuated that mocking tone even more, just to make sure that I could not doubt that if my father had taken me away, she would have only been glad.

And that awareness hurt me.

I knew I had no right to be offended: after all, it was I who had hurt her first, and so she had every reason in the world to treat me like that. Yet, seeing the hatred in her eyes hurt more than I wanted. I knew that it was the mating bond that made me feel that way, and not a real feeling (there was and there was going to be only one woman in my life), but that awareness didn't make it any less painful.

It's not right! I shouldn't be feeling like this at all!

"That's great, then," my mother smiled. "Since the chef is a bit late with the courses, I think we totally should take advantage of it. Come on, honey, I'll introduce you to the rest of the pack. Let the men discuss their own stuff. "

She put her arm around Kate's waist and, together, they went off into the crowd. With way much less kindness, however, my father dragged me into the forest.

"Did you by any chance decide to turn off your brain and feed it to the dogs?" he hissed, trying to keep his voice low.

"Dad ..." I began to explain, but he cut me off.

"Stop it. We all saw what happened on the beach" he said, clearly pissed. "You claimed her as yours. Now tell me, why the hell did you rejected her a moment later?"

"Because Connor chose her, not me!" I protested.

After that, my father went silent for a few minutes, massaging the root of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"Murtagh," he said then. “I understand why you are doing this. You lost Grace a year ago and you're still grieving. I saw how much her loss has made you suffer, even if you tried to hide it. But now it's time to move on, do you understand? I …"

"I'm not going to do that," I snarled, shaking off his hand, which he had rested on my shoulder after a supposedly comforting squeeze. “And you have no right to lecture me. You don't know what there was between Grace and me, you don't have the slightest idea of it. I don't want a second chance with this girl, and I won't spoil Grace's memory by being with someone else! " I screamed and left, hurrying back to the banquet.

Katherine was sitting at our table again, still busy greeting and thanking, like a good doll.

That's what she is. A well-trained little b***h, nothing more.

I quickly sat down next to her, sent away the asshole who let his gaze slide too much along her curves and then devoured another sandwich.

At least try not to be rude, I heard my father tell me. His tone was serious this time. He obviously didn't like my last comment.

Finally, the Omegas who worked in the kitchens decided to move their asses, and within five minutes the first courses began to be served.

Katherine and I both ate our dinner in silence and quickly: it was clear that she didn't want to dwell on those stupid rituals any more than I did, and so we were the first to finish.

"So what's up?" my mother said swooping down on us like a hawk, and of course addressing Kate. "Was the food good, guys?"

"Yes," I snapped. I knew she was just worried that everything was going well (she was a perfectionist, after all) but I didn't want to take a minute longer of this event.

"I… feel very embarrassed to have to say this, but…" Katherine muttered. "I'm allergic to anchovies and I realized too late that there were some in the pasta. I'm starting to feel a bit strange, so ... "

Allergic? But it wasn't true. I had seen how, during the appetizers, she particularly liked the anchovy canapes: and then, if she really felt bad, I would have felt it through the bond.

Eventually I got there: she was lying. She was lying so she could get away from me.

Well, better. I don't want her around a moment longer.

"Absolutely, sweetheart" my mother nodded. "Murtagh, take her in the pack house and show her where the medicine cabinet is. I'm gonna tell your dad, dear, okay?"

Was I really hoping I could get rid of her for five minutes? Of course not!

Katherine nodded quickly, resting her head on her hand as if she was oh-so-tired. I had to admit, she was good at pretending to be sick.

"Just ... please, don't tell him I actually ate the anchovies. He'd get mad if he'd find out that I wasn't paying attention ... he's just so worried about everything" Katherine asked, with a timid note in her voice. 

Mom nodded and smiled. "I got you covered". 

So, under the threat of my mother's gaze, I got up and held out my hand to help her get back on her feet. Since I knew the pack lands and the surrounding of the pack house like the back of my hand, I knew how to disappear without being noticed, and that's what I did with Kate. As soon as we were alone, she was the first to break away from my grasp, and the strange sense of emptiness that followed only helped to make me feel angrier about those strange sensations. Speaking about them, it was stupid from me to call them strange: I knew them very well, I just didn't want them. But I had been so foolish to let Connor take over and declare her his, precluding me from rejecting her.

"Thank you" Katherine said dryly, smoothing the skirt of her dress. "You can go back to the party if you want."

"I'd have to explain your absence" I replied.

"Your mother is already doing it."

"You don't know the pack house, you'd get lost" I continued, unable to stop and hating myself for it. I knew it was Connor who conditioned my words: he didn't want to leave her.

Stop it! I yelled at him. I don't want any of this!

I do.

Katherine suddenly turned to me, her eyes sparkling with fury. "Don't you think you've done enough for just one night?" she hissed. "Do me a favor and leave me alone" she growled and, lifting the hem of her dress so as not to dirty it, she began to march towards the back door of the house.

You see? She doesn't want us, I said to Connor. Do as she wants and leave her alone.

It's not true. She does want us. She is OURS!

No it is not. Grace was ours.

Grace is dead! He howled. I could feel his pain growing as the distance between Katherine and me grew: he thought he needed her, but I didn't. I knew we didn't. 

I would have made him change his mind: I would have made him understand.

KATHERINE

As soon as I entered the huge pack house, dozens of eyes (blue, green, hazel eyes) fixed on me. All those people wore either kitchen aprons, and they were clearly surprised to see the bride inside the house, when she was supposed to be outside, sitting at the table, celebrating.

"Miss Katherine" a woman in her fifties approached me slowly, with a welcoming smile on her thin, rosy lips. I guessed from her clothing that she had to be the chef: she wasn't very tall, and she kept her dark hair tied in a low bun behind her head. Gently, she placed a flour-stained hand on my arm. "Are you feeling well?"

For a few moments I could not speak: my throat felt as dry as a desert.

"I …"

"She needs an antihistamine" a voice said from behind my shoulder, almost making me jump in shock.

Of course that asshole of Murtagh didn't even had the faint idea of listening to me and leaving me alone. With a worried expression on his face, which did nothing but scream falsehood, he wrapped an arm around my waist, pressing me gently against his side. He even dared to give me a soft kiss on the temple to make sure his acting performance looked like an Oscar-worthy one. "I'll take her upstairs, she needs to rest" he went on. "Can you bring it up to her, Felicia?"

"Sure, kiddo" she smiled, patting him on the cheek, with an obviously ironic tone. “As if I can't tell when a girl is feeling sick or not. Do you guys want some time for yourself as mates? I'll cover you" and saying so, she winked at him and left, chuckling.

As soon as we were alone, of course, the worried expression vanished from his face, giving way to complete indifference. His arm disappeared from my waist as quickly as it had arrived and he jerked away from me.

"Follow me" he said then, his voice as cold as ice, starting to walk towards an imposing staircase.

Without any desire to argue, I followed him through the tangle of corridors, rooms and halls of which the house was composed, amazed by the royal appereance and grandeur of the building. After at least ten minutes of walking we arrived on the fourth floor, the one that hosted the family of the Alpha.

"This is my room" he said dryly, opening a door and gesturing for me to enter. “You can sleep here tonight. Yours isn't ready yet, but it will be by tomorrow night. Good night, Katherine."

He turned and made his way towards the door, but I felt the urge to stop him. I knew it was Varya who wanted it, not me, but despite this I couldn't fight that impulse, and so I stretched my arm in his direction. In the very moment in which my fingers closed around his wrist, I felt an electric tingle run all over my arm, from the point where my skin came into contact with his: Varya moaned with pleasure.

Murtagh gave me a cold, furious glance, but did nothing to push me away.

"Is there any problem?" he asked dryly.

"Where ... where are you going to sleep?" I asked, trying with all my might to keep my voice from shaking. "I mean, this is your room, after all."

He was silent for a few seconds: he clearly hadn't thought about it.

"You can take the bed" he said then, using his free hand to gently remove his wrist from my grip. “I'll stay on the couch. Your suitcases have already been brought here, so you can change into a more comfortable outfit, if you wish. The bathroom is over there.” He pointed to a dark wooden door to the right. The next moment he went out, closing the door behind him, leaving me completely alone and still shaken by that strange sensation I had felt by touching him.

Slowly, I reached my suitcases and began to open them, taking out a change of underwear and something to sleep in: the choice fell on a pair of leggings and an old T-shirt from a rock concert I went to with my dad years before.

Murtagh's bathroom was huge: it had a bathtub and a maxi shower, both of them equipped with hydromassage systems. It looked like a prince's washroom. Every single thing in that room screamed masculinity, from the predominant colors, onyx black and dark red, to the fragrances of the bubble baths. Musk and pine, I noticed and chuckled. Typical.

With a sigh, I began filling the tub with hot water, hoping that a warm, bubbly bath would help me end the day in a better way than it had started. But now the time of dreams was over: if I had even dared to hope that my marriage could be happy, I was very wrong. I was condemned to live in a totally stranger pack, with a man who hated me despite being my mate, and who had taken away my possibility of finding happiness elsewhere.

As soon as I found the strength to face the harsh truth, the pain hit me with unbearable force: I didn't even noticed when tears began to wet my cheeks, and my vision became more and more blurred because of them. Within five minutes, my chest was aching from the sobs that were filling the silence of the bathroom. 

One of the few clear memories I had of my mom was about a morning in which she was doing my hair, telling me stories about mates: from those tales, it looked like the mate was that one persone that  would love me, cuddle me, cherish me, treat me like his queen. I had always wanted a fairytale ending, an epic love with my mate, that kind of love that makes your heart burst: despite the arranged marriage, I had always kept that hope. Realizing that I had been ripped of it just with a few words, with a simple "it was my wolf who chose her, not me", was terrible.

I didn't choose her.

My wolf did. 

I had heard enough stories about mates to know that the wolf chooses the wolf, and the man the woman, or the other way around. The wolf of Murtagh, therefore, had not even chosen me, but Varya.

I was trapped in a bond in which I, Katherine, was not wanted by anyone: neither by Murtagh, nor by his wolf.

I'm going to live without love, I admitted to myself, and felt my heart definitely shatter in a million pieces.