His father, however, almost takes his head off with the rage-filled bellow he aims his way. I realize thatâs who shoved me out of the way so forcefully right then.
âDid you just growl at me?â he snarls our way, and Colton curls his fingers around my waist and arm firmly.
Juan lowers his brows severely and glares at his son furiously, moving into his head link to continue his chastisement; the way Colton stiffens around me tells me so.
Locked eye to eye, an intense standoff ensues as the air thickens and his energy bristles.
Iâm captured in a tight embrace, and I know I shouldnât try to break free from it, although my body responds quite happily to the contact.
But I feel his anger radiating from him and the anxious, uptight bubbling inside me as I sense what heâs feeling.
I was never good with aggression and rage. And now the overwhelming amount he can spit out, as my mood takes on his, has me recoiling.
Colton has a sea of dominant fury inside him, and his hostility knows no bounds. I try to blot out the projections Iâm getting and close my eyes to focus on my breathing instead.
Iâm combating growing heat and pulsing need from his touch and fear and faintness from all the negative emotions flying between these two terrifying men.
I feel like a piece of raw meat hanging between two ferocious beasts. Itâs like I donât have complete control of my mind or feelings anymore, try as I might. Colton now lives in my body as much as I do.
They argue inwardly, silent on the surface, but all in the hallway remain still and patient as they are meant to when their alpha demands.
Juan is one of the most intimidating pack leaders, and I guess itâs why he moved so quickly to the prime position.
Coltonâs father spins on his heel finally, signaling they are done, and marches off into a nearby doorway, clicking his fingers and gesturing for us to follow.
Itâs all so hostile and terrifying that I cringe, my heart erupting into hammering thuds.
âIf people could keep their hands to themselves and off my mate, that would be great! Thanks,â Colton mumbles under his breath, not meaning for me to hear.
I throw him an awkward glance, my heart flipping over and my stomach churning uneasily at his words.
~He called me his mate.~
~âI can hear you, and for the time being⦠itâs what you are. We imprinted. We donât exactly have a choice.â~
Colton throws me a look that translates to âRelax and follow me,â and I mutely do so, cheeks burning from stupidly letting him read my thoughts.
Iâm embarrassed that Iâm stupid enough not to remember that thirty seconds after figuring it out.
He lets me go, and my body cools a little, somehow suddenly cold from the loss of him, and a weird emptiness fills me instead.
I quickly follow behind him into a large room that looks like a study with extra couches.
The men all file in and sit down in random places, and Colton ushers me to a nearby chair, padded and semi-shadowed in the corner, out of the direct line of the men.
He stands close by and waits as his father circles a bookcase and comes to perch in the chair at the desk, looking out at all of us in his position as leader.
âI need solutions. Thisââhe points at Colton and meââhappens over my dead body. My son is destined to be alpha one day, and I will be damned if a mongrel with bad breeding dilutes his lineage.
âShe will not be our luna. Fix this. Find a way! I donât care what the history books say. There has to be a way to break the bond and sever the connection, so he is free to mate up with a chosen female.â
It was the stern tone of a man who doesnât want to hear excuses, and yet a tiny ounce of hope fills my chest.
There might still be a chance I can get out of this, and here, and follow my plan to get the hell away from Radstone once and for all.
Itâs even weirder that at the same time, though, a desolate pain cuts me in the heart at the thought of leaving him, winding me, and blindsiding me for a second.
âYou cannot fight fate. There are consequences if you ignore destiny. Imprinting does not happen to us all, and when it does⦠you do not question it,â the shaman is quick to verbalize.
But Juan slams his hand on his desk, sending a loud thud through all of us and bringing silence once more.
I stare at my feet and will the ground to open up and take me, crushing pressure on my chest as anxiety envelops me.
âDid you not hear me when I said, THIS is NOT happening?! She will NOT be my sonâs mate. I will kill her before I let that happen.â
Silence befalls the room as his biting tone echoes in the air, although I swear I hear the subtlest of growls come from Coltonâs way, so close beside me, and make sure I donât look at him.
Instead, I stare at my hands in my lap and pray for this to be over, shaking internally and genuinely fearful for my life.
Never have I wanted to be left to go back to the orphanage to spend time in my room with Vanka, but now itâs so calling to me.
I donât want anything as much as I want that right now. Well, except maybe this weird primal urge for the guy at my left to calm down a bit and stop plaguing me.
I can feel him, overly so. Iâm way too in tune and aware of him, even if he is three feet away.
My body and mind are doing some weird things concerning him, and as terrified as I should be right now, I donât feel it when he moves closer and somehow calms me without even looking my way.
One backward step of maybe a foot, and he soothes my nerves back into warm gooey submission, that inner heat spreading as he gets close enough that his scent sparks some internal fire in me.
âThen your son will die too, and we lose our future leader. You cannot break the bond without severe consequences. The choice has been made. Fate has chosen for him, and you must obey.â
The shaman returns, undeterred by Juanâs anger, and stands as though to press the point. Heâs low-toned and confident in his wisdom and does not seem intimidated in any way.
âHe can choose to sever the bond if he wishes, but history has shown us that mates who do⦠both die! The only other option is denial to consummate.
âThey choose to walk away; no mark is made, no union at all, and they deny the bond completely.
âIt will never die, and they will live lives craving what the other can give them, no matter who they end up with. Is that what you want for your son?â
All eyes turn on Juan. This room has so much tension as the elders talk internally, so I cannot hear them.
Colton paces, and I can tell he is privy to what is being said. They are his pack, after all, and two are his blood: Father and Uncle.
He doesnât seem happy, and the waves of his anger are all lapping over me and affecting my sanity, dampening the heat and replacing it with his rage.
I canât take it anymore. As the minutes tick by and my nerves fray to the point that I feel like I may scream, an internal burst of nervous crazy whooshes out.
âIâll leave. I donât want this either,â I blurt out into the deathly silence as hysteria gets the better of me.
Every single face turns to me in shocked response, like they suddenly remembered I was here in this corner.
I know I just spoke out of turn and disrespected everyone in this room, but Iâm sitting here wearing my dried blood, shredded emotions, and exhaustion pushes through.
My head is a mess, and in the space of thirty minutes, I discovered that being a virgin doesnât mean you cannot get crazy urges to strip naked and jump someoneâs bones.
Even if you previously avoided that someone like the plague.
Iâve pictured him naked at least twice, without even meaning to, since he gave me every one of his intimate memories, and some of those are of him showering. ~What?~
âWhat?â Colton in my head and his dad verbally say in unison, and I panic that I spat this out loud.
âIt was the plan, my intentions. I mean, after my⦠the umm⦠tonight. My turning. I was leaving. Going away, and it doesnât have to change.â I sound insane.
Iâm babbling like a fool with verbal diarrhea and aware of the way all eyes are eating up my weak presentation of my crap contribution.
I should have run when I had the chance and screwed the turning ceremony.