Awakening Series

Rejection - pt. 1

I pace my room for the hundredth time, sighing, frustrated and mentally working through the war going off inside me and end up ‘arghhing’ out loud in frustration. So over this crap already and tired of feeling this strung out. I feel like the events of the last few days have changed me in subtle ways and wish I could go back to before.

Things have not been going well since that day in the packhouse. That day changed literally everything in my life, and I’m a prisoner in the orphanage until further notice. Under lock and key, metaphorically, through pain of, should I disobey.

Colton's father erupted when he realized that being left alone for mere minutes was enough to send his son spiraling into hormonal lust for his new mate, throwing all sense aside and almost marking me. So now we’re forbidden from being near each other, indefinitely. His father thinks he can control fate by just refusing to let things run their course. Despite everything the Shaman warned and tried to preach.

Juan is adamant I’ll be the downfall of the Packdom should Colton honor our bond, and I goddamn hate him for interfering and thinking he can control me in this way. I’m not one of his pack. He has no claim to me or my bloodline, and since I turned, I’m free to leave this stupid mountain, but he won’t let me!

Nothing like this has ever happened before in the history of imprinting, and the Shaman warned of terrible foreboding should we anger the Fates and deny something as strong as an imprinting. Juan didn’t care. He only cares about what Juan wants, what the Santos need and I’m an annoying little fly in his soup. Not worthy of his son’s attention or his seed.

My running away plan is pointless because mine and Colton’s souls are now linked in every way, meaning I’m not allowed to leave Radstone at all. To go off on my own, for fear I endanger the life of their future Alpha in my unworthy, incapable way in case some terrible mishap befalls me. If I die out there in the big bad world, then so does he.

I mean, the Fates made your mate inseparable from you for a reason; beyond lust and procreation, the desire to never be parted is as much about survival. The Alpha should protect his femme at all costs, and she shadows her dominant for life. Always by his side, to watch his back and become an invincible unit. They become one. If one falls, they both fall.

So basically after being screamed at by Carmen until my ears bled, literally, and they still hurt, bullied into a corner by Juan, who threatened to tear me apart and Colton almost took his head off, and then dragged home to house arrest by some of the overly aggressive Santo pack, I’m literally confined to life inside these walls, with no contact from the person fate decided would be the other half to my soul for eternity. Everything sucks. Just goddamn, all the way to hell and back, sucks!

Happy sucky eighteenth birthday, Alora.

It’s going well so far.

We’re forbidden from linking, or talking, or seeing each other, and I doubt that will ever change. Bonding is for life and distance won't do very much about it. You cannot sever a bond. You can choose to deny it, ignore it if you can, but Colton has to be the one to reject me, or I will be, and currently still am, his mate. He said the words; he verbalized the choice and started to mark me. Juan cannot make that choice for him. He has to say the words to me. I have to hear it from him before it breaks the union we started. Not that it does much in terms of our link, but for his pack, for the code, he can’t have me as his mate and then go back to Carmen without doing this first. One mate ... there’s no leeway in that.

It's been agony though, and the Shaman was correct in that denying the bond only makes it worse. I swear, I’ve been dreaming, obsessing about him since they pulled us apart and I can't sleep or eat for pining for the mate I will never have as long as his father has any say. Even if he made it clear that he wants me, too. It’s so crazy, given that I didn’t know him at all, and now I know everything about him, can feel him, see him in my mind’s eye and even hear that sexy subtly accented Latino voice of his whenever I want. He’s ingrained in me now.

He's in my head, creating dark, unhealable holes in my heart, and my entire being feels empty and lost without the other half of me to complete it. His kiss has ruined me in so many ways, and I replay those moments until I scream in agony and try to push the taste and feel of him out. I never knew this kind of pain could exist and now I curse the Fates for doing this to me. Why they would inflict this kind of incurable disease is beyond me. It’s a form of insanity and I am powerless to cure myself, no matter how strong I think I am.

I’m desperate to reach out and link to him, for just one second, to appease my eternal cravings, but as I have heard nothing from him, I’m assuming he too agrees with his father, that for the future of the pack, we should have no contact, considering he closed down the head link and I can’t get to him at all. Dreaming about him, smelling his scent in the wind when it blows from the south is driving me crazy, and I have no idea how to fix myself while I don’t even know what we are. Held captive, still his mate, yet denied all that goes with it.

The only upside to my turning and finally becoming my true self in all of this is the physical difference, which shocked me when I finally got home to wash the grime and blood caking every inch of me. Catching sight in the bathroom mirror held me still with disbelief as I took myself in slowly and digested the image staring back at me.

The woman before me in the mirror, where a girl once stood, is almost like a stranger to me, yet not. Still Alora in a way, I recognize myself as me, yet I’m angular, fuller lipped, with clearer skin. My features are somehow better without changing too much, so I can’t put my finger on the why. My hair’s thicker, fuller, lighter, so instead of mousy brown, it’s a highlighted caramel with hints of honey and gorgeous waves. My eyes greener, dazzling almost, and my body is toned in places I don't think I could ever improve on. It enhanced, tweaked, and brought me up to par with the already turned walking around this kingdom. No longer plain; I’m desirable, which brings its own problems.

Males in heat circle me whenever I venture down to the kitchen, or out into the courtyard for air. The orphanage still has many who live under this roof, even after turning, who have no desire to leave. I may have imprinted on a mate, but I bear no mark to solidify a union, therefore I’m mateless in their eyes and available, and I need to watch my back. Not all are bound by pack rules in this new era.

Generally, males treat femmes with respect after turning, but not all. Hormones, lack of a mate, and sometimes undirected testosterone levels all contribute to rogue males with little consideration of punishment when fueled by a need to have s*x. We are primal animals, and s*x is in our basic everyday makeup once we turn for the first time. I know I’m already suffering for the cravings to be fulfilled. My body yearning for my mate to join with me until I feel I may turn inside out with the painful internal pangs for his body. The annoying part is that no one else will do and I have zero interest in any kind of instant relief with any other male, or any form of self-pleasure, not that I would know how. It’s not been high on my list of priorities in life.

I’ve become aware, more than ever now, that I am no longer safe in this home when surrounded by unmated males. The lack of a real pack means a lack of protection and any kind of consequences from a male who brutally takes what he wants. We live in a cruel world, and, as an unwanted, no one cares about the rejects. Especially not if one reject attacks and violates another. We have no backup.

It doesn’t matter if every single one of them saw me imprint on Colton; it’s public knowledge Juan is denying the bond and he has sent me to dwell here to stay away from his son. They know not to kill or maim me, but messing me up a little, doing unspeakable things ... his son would recover the pain quickly and not carry the emotional scarring that I would - I’m not safe.

I stop my daily ritual pacing and slump down on my bed. Vanka came in, grabbed some belongings, and left again. She is also keeping her distance since the turning. It seems my public shaming with Colton put me on some kind of social outcast list, even among my fellow unwanteds.

Not one of them has looked my way or talked to me in days. No one wants to know me or be seen associating with the girl who had the audacity to bond to someone way above her station. Especially not Prince Santo himself. Like I somehow orchestrated all this, and it wasn’t fated at all. Committed some kind of heinous sin that marks me as the lowest of the low, even in this crappy home.

The only thing keeping me from being killed is the fact Colton will die if anyone touches me. I mean, I’m sure if I was cornered and attacked by someone, it would affect him too, but it doesn’t seem to matter to the circling predators in this house. Most hate the Santos, any of the Alphas for that matter, because they know they will never be them, or match up to them, and jealousy and ego are a lethal combination. They won’t be hunted for inflicting pain on him, only if he dies.

I lie down on my bed, my stomach growling with hunger while tying my insides in knots, but I just can't seem to face eating. I try; I go down for allocated mealtimes, but I pick at my food and it all tastes like cardboard when I put it in my mouth. Nothing shifts this feeling, this deep emptiness creating a cavern inside me, and it’s bottomless and cold. The longer this goes on, the worse it gets. The only thing my body craves and wants, it can’t have. I hate that he can mess me up like this when we were strangers only days ago. It’s not fair!

I close my eyes and will myself to picture anything but him. Push the thoughts of him aside and try to bring forward an image of my parents instead, something I do when I need to self-calm or bring a happy memory into the depression of my daily life. I try to conjure an image of my mother’s face, to bring me some comfort, but they are all becoming blurry faded pictures in the dark recesses of my mind so that seeing them properly is no longer easy at all. Time is taking them from me, and I have nothing left of them in any form after the elders destroyed all links to our past dead.

I need to see you.

The familiar voice comes out of nowhere, inside my head, and I jump at the intrusion, having a minor heart attack as its beat elevates crazily. Sitting up fast and spinning my head around to scan my room as if he is going to be standing right here. I know his voice well enough; I hear it in my dreams any time I sleep, and my body tingles in response to the contact, goosebumping all over instantly. Insides tingling with anticipation of seeing my mate again. I miss him beyond words, even if it’s insane to do so.

Where are you?

I reply desperately, unable to contain the surge of adrenaline that hearing him inside my head gives me. Just a tiny ounce of contact, restoring some of this desolate emptiness I’ve been feeling since that night.

I'm in the packhouse and we have to be discreet. Meet me in the West forest, deep down by the old cavern, within the hour. Don't let anyone see you leave. I'm being watched like a hawk, but I know how to get there unseen. We have to talk face to face.

I almost sob with both the sheer happiness at hearing his voice and the fact I will get to see him for real, not just an image in my head. To share physical air and lay eyes on what my soul craves the most. The only thing dampening my crazy instant elation is the serious, almost monotone, hint in his voice and the lack of his excitement I’m experiencing as I pick up emotions through the link.

Can't we talk like this first? I don't know if I can get out right away, and it just feels so good hearing you inside my head again. Don't go. Talk to me now.

I sound as desperate as I feel, and I don’t want him to close the link once more. I’ve waited endlessly to have him link me like this.

No. It's harder like this. It only strengthens our bond when we link this way, and I have a lot to say. I told you, this needs to be face to face. There’s something we have to do properly.

My heart plummets into my stomach as his Alpha tone sees through, and I know I’m being commanded and not asked. That doesn’t sit well, and the sense of foreboding that sentence gives me almost rips my soul in two. It’s obvious whatever he wants to say is not going to be about finding a way to make this work without his father’s blessing. He wouldn’t worry about our bond strengthening if that were true. I try to ignore the suspicions, but I just can’t.

Just meet me, please.

This time the tone is gone and it’s just a request with a little underlying plea. I hold in the urge to beg him to talk more now and push the tears aside, clinging onto hope that maybe face to face it will be something good, not what I fear, and nod into my empty room. Heaviness consuming me as heartache gnaws at my stomach and chest.

I'll be there.

I sound deflated, sad. Close to breaking, with a raw huskiness in my tone that I can’t conceal, I wait for him to close the link between us. Like waiting for something painful to happen, and I hold my breath.

Alora? I’m ... I wish it didn't have to be this way. I'm sorry that it was me.

Before I have time to reply to that strained, husky reply, he closes off and I physically feel the link between us go dead. My mind quieting back to solitary and I know he’s gone. Even with a bond, a mate can choose to close the channel of communication at will, and he just did, like he has been doing for days. I stare at the wall numbly, lost in the moment and how empty everything feels once more. Knowing that my prison is going to be eternal and I can’t see any other way out.

I know I’m getting to see him, finally, but everything about that interaction breaks me open and I roll over into my cushions to sob it all out. Crying in pain that’s not too dissimilar to mourning my entire family ten years ago. I feel worse now I’ve spoken to him briefly. This feels as much of a loss as then, even if it seems crazy and not really a comparison. Like something awful is coming, and when I see him, it will only cause me more devastation.

A nagging voice of logic and haste in the back of my head pulls me out of my dark depressive state and reminds me that if I want to get to the forest within the hour, I need to get up and motivate myself. In human form, it’s a trek and a half, and I need time to get ready. I’ve been living in my nightwear for days.

In wolf form, I’ll get there in minutes but completely naked, and I haven’t yet tried to turn of my own accord. Too preoccupied to even attempt it and wouldn’t know how to start without a little practice. I need to shower, change, make myself look half human at least, and hide the dark circles and shadows from pining my days away. I don’t want him to see me at my worst.

My body is weighed down with lethargy when I drag myself up, and it takes all my willpower to haul ass to the bathroom moments later. Desperate to find some relief in the meeting, even if the outcome won’t be what my heart hopes. Torn in two though, with a little shining light of delusional hope telling me that maybe what he needs, and wants to do face to face, is mark me as his mate. That maybe we can do this in secret and find a way to be together—or maybe not.

I still cannot seem to get to grips with how this can be. How imprinting on a relative stranger can completely derail everything you knew before and make you so insanely in need of them you would tie your life up in theirs just to breathe. Pushing that person into the center of everything and craving them with the intensity of severe addiction.

I know more about him than anyone in my life, and I have barely spoken to him. My mind is a chaotic tangle of his life and mine, which once ran separately yet now coincides, and memories blur into one another. I have mental images of him at every age and random knowledge about things most people never know of their mate. I know everything he does, about himself, his life, his family, and I’m guessing the same goes for him, too. You truly merge when imprinting and now I see why it’s so rare and so potent when it happens. You lose control of everything, and the only thing which matters from there on in is your mate.

We are one. In every way possible.

I wash quickly, dress, dry my hair at speed, and attempt to fix my face to hide the blotchiness of my tears. Makeup was never my thing, but this sudden obsessive adoration for Colton makes me want to look my best for him, even if our meeting has a tone that doesn’t spell happily ever after for me. I need to have hope.

I clock watch as I apply the bare minimum enhancements and tousle my hair out with my fingers, as it forms light natural waves. For a moment, my reflection reminds me of my mother, and I swallow a lump in my throat as the shooting pain of remembered heartbreak hits me like a sucker punch and almost buckles my knees under the weight. Bruising my heart in that unique way that only the loss of them can.

“I miss you, Mom. I miss all of you.”

I stare at the resemblance while biting back tears and then shake her out of my head as I have come accustomed to doing over the years, to bear the ache, and turn to ready myself for getting out of here unseen. The only way I dealt with their loss was to never dwell too long on it. I never really learned any other way.

I turn my attention back to what I need to do. I’ve never snuck out of the orphanage before, nor ever needed to, but I have a route plan and I think I know how to get by unseen, where no one will miss me for an hour or two. It’s not like this place was ever set up as a prison, and we don’t have any guards watching us.

I scribble a hurried note for Vanka, should she care, which is doubtful, telling her I’m taking a book to a secluded part of the garden to hide and read and know she won’t bother checking. She doesn’t care if I live or die most days, so she sure as hell won’t care if I’m not in my room now I no longer have classes to attend.

School ended for me on the day of my turning, as coincidence has it, and I should have been on my merry way to a new life, much like Vanka is planning before the month is out. She’s been making arrangements to head off and soon this room will be mine alone. That will be the only upside to being stuck here for eternity.

It’s not like any new orphans will be heading in here or have done for the last decade. Newborns have families and unless another war wipes out a lot more of us, then I doubt the orphanage will have any new rejects coming in.

I yank on my sneakers, my blue hoody over my tight T-shirt and jeans, and slide out of my room into the deserted hall. It’s during class time, so most of the kids are in the rooms of the left wing right now, learning all about our traditions and history with some academia thrown in. For the most part, they raise us to live among humans, to fit in and exist in their world, so we learn all the same crap they do, and how to conceal what we are.

I guess I was lucky in that the war confined us here, in our own school, and I haven't had to interact with non-wolves since then. Those of us left with no family got pulled out of our human schools amid rumors of a deadly virus plaguing families on the mountain skirts, which meant no officials came knocking. Some of the Alphas, like the Santos, too, for their own protection and lineage, but the general population were allowed to keep their places in the real world as though nothing happened. I don't plan to go back there anytime soon either. Now that my change has drastically altered the course of my path.

I sprint to the end of the hall and down the servant stairs to the kitchen, not that we have any, but this house used to belong to the Alpha of the Romaine pack, none of whom returned at all from the great wars, and the house was repurposed for our use. Their wealth committed to the cause of repairing our society. Probably because they were the smallest of the packs, living on the edge of solitude and far from the rest of the villages, that it was a prime location. The house and its lands are secluded enough to confine unwanteds in one corner, to forget us and leave us to our own devices. I guess it’s why Colton picked the West forest. It’s easy to access from here and close enough for me to get to without effort.

It’ll take him longer to get there from where he is, though, as his pack live on the south side of the mountain, almost seven miles from here. If he can't be seen leaving, he will have to go on foot, not use his truck, and the only option for him is to turn and wolf it this way. We can cover ground faster as our true selves and I wonder if I should take him some sort of clothing. Not that seeing him naked is a bad thing, but it might take my focus away from what he wants to say.

I shake my head at my stupidity and realize he probably thought of this and will carry some sort of bag and attire for changing back, that’s if he intends to. Maybe he will stay in form and talk to me that way.

No stupid, he said face to face, as using our mind-link will make this worse!

I chastise myself, blaming the lack of sleep for my dumbing down lately, as I slide through the kitchen unseen and get to the back porch door in record time. Getting used to my new speed and zipping around when you don’t want to be seen is the perfect practice. I’ve stopped bumping into things and tripping over my own feet in hyper-speed mode, but I haven’t yet mastered how not to get breathless. It takes it out of me after a short sprint.

The garden is empty, but most of the classrooms look into the courtyard, so I make sure I stay in the shadows against the wall and slide along to the concealed part of the garden behind the outhouses. Up and over the eight-foot brick wall with an easy leap and I’m free to run for the woods with, no one seeing my escape. It’s easier than I thought. Then again, no one expects me to defy rules and go chasing after Colton Santo. I was never this girl before him and yet now, he just has to say the word and I go ... blindly following my Alpha; another annoying trait of being mated. He commands and I do. It’s kind of pathetic.

I run in the direction I need to go, stopping and dropping behind trees anytime I catch sight of movement or pick up a sound or scent. My senses are firing on all cylinders of their highest ability, and it’s making me a paranoid wreck as I try to forge a path without a trace through the dense forest that leads to where I want to go. Heart pounding so hard through my chest, I’m sure anyone nearby will hear it. I try to calm down, but to no avail. I’ve never been a risk-taker or had the bravery to do anything wild, like defy Juan Santo. I must be insane.

I know if I get caught, they’ll drag me in front of Juan for breaking the rules set for me. He might worry about killing his son, but he won’t worry about putting him through a little pain, and I’m not one for a public flogging if I can help it. Colton is stronger than me, and even if he feels my pain, Juan will use it to teach us both a lesson. I don’t doubt that cold-hearted bastard would do it for that reason. I’ve never liked him.

I feel like I’ve run at least five miles before I stop for much-needed breath, gasping crazily with crushing agony, my limbs beginning to ache and burn from overuse and the unfamiliarity of running at speed like this. Much like unfit people, we have to build our stamina so the human side of us can catch up, and I have not been good at building up to this kind of sprint. My legs and muscles are throbbing and feel like my tendons are being torn apart. I collapse behind an overgrown ridge to regain some equilibrium, so my lungs don’t cave in and give myself a few moments before dragging myself up and walking the rest of the way at human speed now that I’ve made up good time.