I pace my room for the hundredth time, sighing, frustrated, and mentally working through the war going off inside me, and end up âarghingâ out loud in frustration.
Iâm so over this crap already and tired of feeling this strung out. I feel like the last few daysâ events have changed me in subtle ways, and I wish I could go back to before.
Things have not been going well since that day in the pack house.
That day changed everything in my life, and Iâm a prisoner in the orphanage until further notice, under lock and key, metaphorically, through the pain of death, should I disobey.
Coltonâs 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 weâre forbidden from being near each other indefinitely. His father thinks he can control fate by refusing to let things run their course, despite everything the shaman warned against and tried to preach.
Juan is adamant Iâll 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.
Iâm not one of his pack. He has no claim to me or my bloodline, and since I turned, Iâm free to leave this stupid mountain, but he wonât 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 substantial as imprinting.
Juan didnât care. He only cares about what Juan wants, what Santos need, and Iâm an annoying little fly in his soup, not worthy of his sonâs attention or seed.
My running away plan is pointless because my and Coltonâs souls are now linked in every way.
This means Iâm 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 if 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, watching his back, and becoming an unbeatable unit. If one falls, they both fall. They become one.
So basically, I was screamed at by Carmen until my ears bled, literally (and they still hurt).
Then I was bullied into a corner by Juan (who threatened to tear me apart, and Colton almost took his head off), then dragged home to house arrest by some of the overly aggressive Santo pack.
Yet, after all this, Iâm confined to live inside these walls, with no contact from the person fate decided would be the other half of my soul for eternity.
Everything sucks. Just goddamn, all the way to hell and back, sucks!
Happy sucky eighteenth birthday, Alora.
Itâs going well so far.
Weâre forbidden from linking, talking, or seeing each other, and I doubt that will ever change. Bonding is for life, and distance wonât do much about it. You cannot sever a bond.
You can choose to deny it or 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 canât have me as his mate and then go back to Carmen without doing this first. One mate⦠thereâs no leeway in that.
Itâs been agony, though, and the shaman was correct in that denying the bond only makes it worse.
I swear, Iâve been dreaming, obsessing about him since they pulled us apart, and I canât 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.
Itâs so crazy, given that I didnât know him at all, and now I know everything about him, can feel him, see him in my mindâs eye, and even hear that sexy, subtly accented Colombian voice of his whenever I want.
Heâs ingrained in me now.
Heâs 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.
Itâs a form of insanity, and I am powerless to cure myself, no matter how strong I think I am.
Iâm desperate to reach out and link to him for one second to appease my eternal cravings.
Still, as I have heard nothing from him, Iâm assuming he agrees with his father that we should have no contact for the packâs future, considering he closed down the mind-link, and I canât 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 donât even know what we are.
Iâm 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 of myself in the bathroom mirror pinned me 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.
Iâm still Alora, in a way, and I recognize myself as me, yet Iâm angular, fuller-lipped, with clearer skin. My features are somehow better without changing too much, so I canât put my finger on the why.
My hairâs thicker, fuller, and lighter, so itâs a highlighted caramel with hints of honey and gorgeous waves instead of mousy brown.
My eyes are greener, almost dazzling, and my body is toned in places I donât 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, Iâm desirable, which brings its own problems.
Males in heat circle me whenever I venture down to the kitchen or 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, Iâm mateless in their eyes and available, and I need to watch my back. Pack rules bind not all 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 contribute to rogue males with little consideration of punishment when fueled by a need to have sex.
We are primal animals, and sex is in our basic everyday makeup once we turn for the first time. I know Iâm already suffering for the cravings to be fulfilled.
My body is yearning for my mate to join 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.
Itâs not been high on my list of priorities in life.
Iâve become aware, more than ever now, that I am no longer safe in this home when surrounded by unmated males.
The lack of an actual 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, like an unwanted, no one cares about the rejects. Especially not if one reject attacks and violates another. We have no backup.
It doesnât matter if every one of them saw me imprint on Colton; itâs public knowledge Juan denies 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 wouldâIâm 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 wasnât fated at all.
They act like I 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 that Colton will die if anyone touches me.
I mean, Iâm sure if I were cornered and attacked by someone, it would affect him too, but it doesnât seem to matter to the circling predators in this house.
Most hate the Santos, or 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 wonât be hunted for inflicting pain on him, only if he dies.