Rejected Mate and Following Fate novel Chapter 7

 

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 even a comparison. Like something awful is coming and that when I see him, it will only serve to 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 will power 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 that you would tie your life up in theirs just to be able 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 mess of his life and mine, which once ran separate, 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, and dry my hair at speed, and attempt to fix my face to hide the blotchiness of my tears. Make up was never my thing, but this sudden obsessive adoration for makes me want to look my best for him, even if our meeting has a tone that doesn’t spell happy 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, biting back tears and then shake her out of my head like 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 while be mine alone. That will be the only upside to being stuck here for an eternity.

 

It's not like any new orphans are heading in here or have been for a 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 any time soon.

 

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 we are raised 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 didn't have 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 Santo’s too, for their own protection and lineage, but general population were allowed to retain their places in the real world as though nothing happened. I don't plan on going back there anytime soon either, now 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.