Rejected Mate and Following Fate - Awakening Book

That quietens me into submission, and I don’t fight him. Colton leads the way, grasping my hand and tugs me with him through the hall. It’s busy, filled with Santos coming and going from the mess hall, in all states of sports attire as training started today, and everyone seems to either be rushing about or completely immobile in groups, chatting. There’s a sense of confusion with some, urgency with others, and a holiday vibe with a more. I guess some don’t realize the seriousness of why everything has changed, and some are overwhelmed with anxiety and rushing around doing whatever they’re told with prompt action. It’s chaotic, and overwhelming, and I close down and allow him to lead me through.

Colton takes me away from the swarm of moving groups and heads towards the corridor to the communal room on this floor. He walks fast and I fall in step obediently. It only takes a silent minute to turn into the passage and head down towards the room where everything seems strangely hushed.

As soon as he hits the digits on the keypad, the door clicks open and the lights flicker on. I blink at the change from dull to bright and follow him inside quietly, waiting for him to move me in and shut the door. He locks it behind us, and it only adds to the tension rising inside of me that he clearly doesn’t want anyone else to eavesdrop.

He motions for me to sit, his manner different, Mr. serious on show in the form of the commander that came here last night and heads to the bar. He pulls it open and grabs two sodas for us before coming back and choosing to sit on the floor in front of my armchair. He hands me a can once he opens it for me, and opens his own, taking a long drink before saying anything. I can tell he’s delaying this, regaining composure, or turning something over in his mind and I wait, patiently. Perched in the seat a little stiffer than I should be, cradling my drink between my hands.

It’s something he thinks I should know, so I’m not going to hurry him. Trying to scan my memories in the long pause between us, but it’s such a jumble when it comes to his mother, of snips and bits of conversations, that I don’t get a clear understanding of where she is. It’s been something I noticed but I assumed it held no real importance in the grand scheme of things.

“She’s not here.” He points out blankly as though reading my thoughts, after a moment of staring at his own can. I don’t recognize his raw, raspy voice, and the strangled way the words come out, telling me this is more painful than he can bear. “I haven’t seen her for nine years.”

It’s not the answer I expected, and I gawp, heart skipping a beat, my eyes widening with surprise and I have no words at all. Head trying to pull that together and wondering if I missed some sort of public announcement that the Santo Luna had left the mountain that long ago, I mean, I was still a kid. This was something the people had a right to know. I just didn’t realize it had been that long, almost a decade without our Luna.

“She’s in a…. place, sort of…… care home, I guess. A medical facility. Has been since a few weeks after they came home from the war.” He leans forward so his gaze is more heavily focused on the floor, yet I catch the glow of amber before he tilts away, enough that I can only see the top of his head. His emotions spiraling out and consuming me as I feed on his despair. My stomach clenches with it.

“Why?” I can sense his distancing emotionally, in a bid to stop me feeling his pain, cutting off to save me, and I can tell it’s because this causes him a mass amount of it. I still get a huge wave of grief, regardless, not too dissimilar to how I felt when my parents never returned. He isn’t pushing me away because he’s ashamed, this is something that rips him up inside and he’s aware he can’t control the intensity.

“Her mind’s broken. My mom never came home as the person she left. She isn’t who she was, and my father said it’s because she wasn’t strong enough to endure the horrors of the war. That it was too much, and she faded away. She doesn’t talk, or move, or do anything anymore. He said she stares into nothing and it’s like her body lives on, but her soul’s gone.” He chokes on the words, his eyes glazing over, and it slices my stomach in response.

at him, trying to get my head around that.

pack. Show how weak she was, and unworthy as a Luna, and cause them to doubt his command. He won’t tell me where she is because he knows I would go to her and he doesn’t

and the fact his mom fell at the same hurdle. Maybe in his head it’s messy and all jumbled up and he doesn’t really see it, but I do. It’s not just his father’s command holding him back, it’s a deep-rooted fear that maybe I wouldn’t be able to handle things either. I’ve never heard of wolves breaking down this way and I can’t even imagine

strength and protection of the many. Our Luna is not here, and for ten years her weakest have suffered under his command. Her absence the sole reason of my kind

them to the dark side, so he didn’t have to take on his mate’s role and care

openly, or try and reason with an alpha, without real backlash or punishment. He rules with aggression now, and logic, and has no tender care for anyone who isn’t worthy. Her warm eye on her people is missing, and her heart in their wellbeing, it’s why so many of us were pushed

croaks a little, his emotions pushing through despite him trying to shield them, and it pains me to feel that kind of broken anguish. He was her only child, and from what I can feel, they loved one another deeply, as a mother and son should. It’s an almost unbearable pain as it swarms me, but I can relate. I knew this pain and have grieved with the same intensity. It’s the mourning of a parent’s death, even if

years while he was forming. The one who should’ve nurtured and softened him after he was forced into battles as a child, taught him not to blindly follow his father in the way he does, and instilled the strength to be his own alpha. That was the

and moral guide, taught him that love is secondary to duty and his heart has no value in what his decisions should be. It taught him that to love is not enough, that to imprint is not an excuse, that the pack must always be the priority even

anymore as he hasn’t left this place for more than five years.” He shrugs with one shoulder, glancing to the side of us as a tear rolls down his cheek and I can tell he feels awkward at showing that kind of softness, probably hearing his father in his head, sneering and scolding him for it. Wolves are macho and men they try not to cry

my chair and mirror his pose on the floor in front of him, so our knees touch and we sit face to face. My hand sliding to cover his thigh, and I lean in, heart exploding with the need to console him. My own mind racing with many thoughts and reasons and explanations and seeing not a strong dominant alpha before me, but a scared young boy who wants to let go of the choices that are too hard for him to make on his own. In so many ways, he’s still that eight-year-old kid who went from joyous ceremonial turning, to battle

there’s a strength in me. The vampire attack

outcome to his mom’s and that

of you it pushes logic out no matter how I reason? He’s right in the fact that our people need a future leader with a strong Luna by his side, but he can’t accept that you’re her. And

same time. I have to cling on, like I’m on a rickety raft on a turbulent sea as his emotions devour me and almost snap me mentally with the force of such chaos. I breathe through the surge, until it settles inside of me and calms enough to reel my thoughts and breathing into calmer waves. Rationale pulling my

your instinct, without questioning it, just impulsively answer; do you think I’m capable of being that