Their Mate And Luna

CHAPTER 91

RAGE

NICOLE

I wish I can remain under the shower for long. The warmth of the water against my skin relaxes my muscles, unknotting tensions I didn’t know I had. As the water cascades down my body, I sigh deeply, longing for a way I can rewind everything I heard today.

I still find it difficult to wrap it round my head that my parents were killed, and that I’ll never see them again. My inability to recall any memories of them plunges me deeper into grief. The melancholy tripling every time I can’t conjure their faces.

I was an orphan even before they passed on.

They gave me up because of a mad man who intended to use me for his own evil purpose. Just like Kaden. A cold shiver runs down my back at the memory of him in the forest. Though handsome, he radiated an evil presence.

Was he the same person that killed my parents or someone before him?

I turn off the shower and grab a big, brown towel from the stack on the shelf near the wash hand basin. Its softness envelopes me in warmth and comfort, feeling like a gentle massage on my skin.

I pick a smaller one to dry my hair, hanging it on the pole embedded in the wall, when I am done. As I head out of the room my thoughts drift back to my predicament.

How do I even lead a pack when all my life I have been living and believing I am an omega? How was my wolf’s identity changed? And why don’t I feel like an alpha?

Female alphas are known to be like their male counterparts, possessing strength, fighting prowess, knowledge of pack matters, werewolf laws, and some other things. Out of the things I listed, I only possess knowledge of werewolf laws.

I love studying about the laws that govern us as werewolves. Not all laws are drafted on paper as some are common knowledge among our kind. Like the mate bond, there’s no law about accepting or rejecting your mate. Though, mates are given by the Moon Goddess, it is the prerogative of a wolf to either accept or reject their mate.

The only problem is when a rejection is done in an unpleasant manner.

Like my mates did.

They rejected me while I was shifting…

Pausing as I put on Vince’s T-shirt, I remember their rejection, which could get them summoned if the Council discovers what happened. I would be summoned too.

This could also cause grave consequences for our pack and members.

The Firestone Pack is one of the largest, richest and strongest pack in our world. Any alpha would give half his members or more to acquire us if word gets out and the Council decides to punish Vance and Vince.

I pull the tshirt over my head, stripping the towel away and returning it to the bathroom.

The punishment for such a rejection usually involves stripping the alpha of the pack from his position, deeming him unfit to lead a pack. Often, the Council imposes a new alpha over the pack or sells off the members to the highest bidding alpha.

Only on rare occasions have alphas retained their positions and kept their packs. In such situations, the alpha would have paid a huge fine in the form of either relinquishing part of his land or sending off some of his members to packs chosen by the Council.

Fury courses through me as I storm into Vance's room. Every item in sight becomes a target for my pent-up anger. With swift, purposeful movements, I begin to wreak havoc. Books fly off shelves, crashing to the floor in a cacophony of destruction. Clothes are torn from hangers and tossed carelessly aside, mingling with strewn papers and shattered ornaments.

And who says the Council itself was fair in their dealings in handling werewolf laws. The men and women occupying those seats are usually former or current alphas with extensive experience in leading packs.

According to history, some alphas had refused to obey werewolf laws, choosing to lead their packs as they deemed fit. This caused such alphas to be sanctioned heavily or attacked by packs chosen by the Council.

A sliver of fear slithers down my spine like icy tendrils as the thought of the Council discovering what my mates did takes hold in my mind. I can’t afford to have my family separated or sent to another pack.

Families are often separated based on the rank of each member. Higher ranked members are sent off to smaller and weaker packs to help strengthen them. Or to stronger and bigger packs who want to maintain and grow their status.

This makes members reject their pack and become rogues or find another pack to assimilate them before the Council descends on the pack.

I can’t imagine us being rogues or getting separated. Or seeing Vince and Vance without their pack. I feel a profound sadness. Something inside me breaks as the thoughts flow inside my head.

What would become of our mate bond if such a fate befell us? Would they allow me to be separated from them?

I groan loudly as I settle into the bed, pulling the covers up to my chest, facing the ceiling. The softness of the mattress mirrors the plush towel I just returned to the bathroom.

I must remember to ask Vince where he got it and get some for Savvy and myself.

I rub my palms over the bed as my thoughts roam. Finding them inching towards my mates and somehow imagining how they would fit perfectly well beside me on this bed. This is a bed big enough for the three of us. I could stretch, kick, toss and turn as I wish and even wrap my body around either of them without any problem. Something strange flutters through my chest. Quickly I push the thought away, shaking my head to clear my mind.

Wait a minute. Why am I thinking of such? I shake my head to dispel the thoughts form my thinking.

Being here is just a precaution to keep me safe from Kaden for now until I decide what to do. There’s no way I am staying here in this room, lying on this bed with them. It’s simply never going to happen.

Vince thinks by telling me I am theirs and belong here with them makes everything right? Or because I called them to help me? It’s not that simple.

No.

They rejected me and in the most despicable way and Vance’s distant behavior only worsens the situation.

It stings that he is stylishly rejecting me again.

And he smells very awful that the memory of it right now releases a sudden rage inside me. The rage propels me to throw off the bedcovers, slide out of bed, marching for the door.

The hallway is empty as I head for Vance’s room with that awful smell filtering out of it.

Without bothering to check if it’s locked or he’s inside, I twist the handle and push the door open, recoiling at the offensive smell that hits my senses hard.

My eyes scan the entire room searching for the source of the smell, with a sharpness that surprises me. Every little detail in his room is vividly clear to me. Not just my vision, my nose can pick out the different smells in the room, especially that familiar awful smell.

Where did Vance get this smell from and why is it clinging to him? I could smell it on his skin, oozing out of his pores and that was the most annoying part of it. I have a feeling the scent won’t leave him even if he took a bath. No matter how long or often he did.

It felt like a scent that was going to be permanent and this made my vision turn red and I feel the urge to trash the room, searching for the culprit.

Fury courses through me as I descend on his room.

Every item in sight becomes a target for my pent-up anger. With swift, purposeful movements, I begin to wreak havoc. Books fly off shelves, crashing to the floor in a cacophony of destruction. Clothes are torn from hangers and tossed carelessly aside, mingling with strewn papers and shattered ornaments.

The bed, once meticulously made, is now a mess of twisted sheets and torn pillows. With a savage yank, I tear down the curtains, their fabric ripping in protest. The room becomes a battlefield of chaos, a physical manifestation of my inner turmoil.

In my rage, I'm oblivious to the consequences of my actions. Nothing matters except the release of my pent-up frustration. Every picture frame, every little thing, becomes a target for my wrath.

“I hate it!” I keep chanting as I move through his room, searching for the culprit. As I tear things apart, I feel like I am tearing off the horrible smell off him. Like I am peeling it off him.

I follow my nose to the bathroom, where a green bottle sits innocently on the washbasin. Its contents emit the same foul odor that clings to Vance. With a growl of frustration, I hurl the bottle against the wall, watching as it shatters into pieces.

The satisfaction that washes over me as the liquid drains away is immense. It's as if by destroying the source of the scent, I've cleansed my mate of its foul influence. Stepping back into his room and seeing the chaos I've wrought should shock me, but instead, it fills me with a deep sense of contentment.

Did I just claim Vance as my mate?

As I collapse onto the floor near his bed, exhaustion washing over me, a single word escapes my lips: "Mine." And with that, sleep envelops me, wrapping me in its warm embrace.