Chapter 5: The Forbidden Bond

I pace my room for the hundredth time, sighing, frustrated, and mentally working through the war going on inside of me, and end up "arghhing" out loud in frustration. I’m so over this crap already, and tired of feeling this strung out. I feel like the events of the last few days have changed me in subtle ways, and I wish I could go back to the "before."

Things have not been going well since that day in the pack house; that changed literally everything in my life, and I'm a prisoner in the orphanage until further notice—under lock and key, metaphorically, and on pain of death should I disobey.

Colton's 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, we're forbidden from being near one another indefinitely. His father thinks he can control fate by just refusing to let things run their course, despite everything the Shaman warned and tried to preach.

Juan is adamant I'll 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. I'm not one of his pack; he has no claim to me or my bloodline. Since I turned, I'm free to leave this stupid mountain, but he won't 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 strong as an imprintation. Juan didn't care. He only cares about what Juan wants, what the Santos need, and I'm an annoying little fly in his soup—not worthy of his son's attentions or his seed.

My running-away plan is pointless because my soul is now linked to Colton in every way, meaning I'm not allowed to leave Radstone at all—not even to go off on my own—for fear I endanger the life of their future Alpha in my unworthy, incapable way should some terrible mishap befall me. If I die out there in the big, bad world, then so does he.

I mean, the Fates did make your mate become inseparable from you for a reason, beyond lust and procreation... the desire to never be parted is as much about survival. The Alpha is meant to protect his femme at all costs, and she is meant to shadow her dominant for life—always by his side, to watch his back and become an invincible unit. They become one. If one falls, they both fall.

So, basically, after being screamed at by Carmen until my ears bled—literally, and they still hurt—bullied into a corner by Juan, who threatened to tear me apart, and Colton almost taking his head off, and then being dragged home to house arrest by some of the overly handsy, aggressive Santo pack, I'm literally confined to a life inside these walls, with no contact from the person Fate decided would be the other half to my soul for an eternity. Everything sucks. It just goddamn, all the way to hell and back, sucks!

Happy sucky eighteenth birthday, Alora.

It's going swell so far.

We're forbidden from linking, or talking, or seeing one another, and I doubt that will ever change. Bonding is for life, and distance won't do very much about it. You cannot sever a bond. You can choose to deny it, 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 he 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 can't have me as his mate and then go back to Carmen without doing this first. One mate... there's no leeway in that.

It's been agony, though, and the Shaman was correct that denying the bond only makes it worse. I swear, I've been dreaming and obsessing about him since we were pulled apart, and I can't 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 he wants me, too. It's so crazy, given that I didn't know him at all, and now I know everything about him, can feel him, see him in my mind's eye, and even hear that sexy, subtly accented Latino voice of his whenever I want. He's ingrained in me now.

He's 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. It's a form of insanity, and I am powerless to cure myself, no matter how strong I think I am.

I'm desperate to reach out and link to him, for just one second, to appease my eternal cravings. But as I have heard nothing from him, I'm assuming he, too, agrees with his father that for the future of the pack we should have no contact, considering he closed down the head-link and I can't get to him at all. Dreaming about him and smelling his scent on the wind when it blows from the south is driving me crazy, and I have no idea how to fix myself while I don't even know what we are. 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 myself free of the grime and blood caking every inch of me. Catching sight of myself in the bathroom mirror held me still 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. I'm still Alora in a way; I still recognize myself as me, yet I'm angular, fuller-lipped, and clearer-skinned. My features are somehow better without changing too much, so I can't put my finger on the "why." My hair is thicker, fuller, and lighter, so that instead of mousy brown, it's a highlighted caramel with hints of honey, and gorgeous waves. My eyes are greener—dazzling, almost—and my body is toned in places I don't think I could ever improve on. It was enhanced, tweaked, and brought me up to par with the others already turned walking around this kingdom. No longer plain; I'm desirable, which brings its own problems.

Males in heat circle me whenever I venture down to the kitchen or out 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, I'm mateless in their eyes and available, and I need to watch my back. Not all are bound by pack rules 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 all 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 I'm already suffering from the cravings to be fulfilled. My body is yearning for my mate to join with me until I feel like I may turn inside out with the internal, painful 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. It's not been high on my list of priorities in my life.

I've become aware, more than ever now, that I am no longer safe in this home when surrounded by unmated males. A lack of a real pack means a lack of protection and any kind of consequences for a male who brutally takes what he wants. We live in a cruel world, and as an unwanted, no one cares about the "rejects"—especially not if one reject attacks and violates another. We have no backup.

It doesn't matter if every single one of them saw me imprint on Colton; it's public knowledge Juan is denying the bond and I've been sent 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 from the pain quickly and not carry the emotional scarring that I would. I'm not safe.

I stop my daily ritual pacing and slump down on my bed, aware Vanka has come in, grabbed some belongings, and left again. She, too, is 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 own 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 wasn't Fate at all. Like I committed some kind of heinous sin that marks me as the lowest of the low, even in terms of being in this crappy home.

The only thing keeping me from being killed is the fact Colton will die if anyone touches me. I mean, I'm sure if I was cornered and attacked by someone it would affect him too, but it doesn't seem to matter to the circling predators in this house. Most hate the Santos and 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 won't be hunted for inflicting pain on him—only if he dies.

I lie down on my bed, my stomach growling with hunger pangs while tying my insides in knots, but I just can't seem to face eating. I try; I go down for allocated mealtimes, but I pick at my food and it all tastes like cardboard when I put it in my mouth. Nothing shifts this feeling, this deep emptiness creating a cavern inside of me, and it's bottomless and cold. The longer this goes on, the worse it gets. The only thing my body craves and wants, it can't have. I hate that he can mess me up like this, when we were strangers only days ago. It's not fair!

I close my eyes and will myself to picture anything but him. I push the thoughts of him aside and try to bring forward an image of my parents instead—something I do when I need to self-calm or bring a happy memory into the depression of my daily life. I try to formulate my mother’s face to bring me some comfort, but they are all becoming blurry, faded pictures in the dark recesses, so that seeing them properly is no longer easy at all. Time is taking them from me, and I have nothing left of them in any form after the elders destroyed all links to our past dead.

I need to see you.

The familiar voice comes out of nowhere, inside my head, and I jump at the intrusion, having a minor heart attack as my heartbeat elevates crazily. I sit up fast and spin my head around to scan my room, as if he is going to be standing right here. I know his voice well enough; I hear it in my dreams any time I sleep, and my body tingles in response at the contact, goosebumping all over instantly. My insides tingle with anticipation of seeing my mate again. I miss him beyond words, even if it's insane to do so.

Where are you?

I reply desperately, unable to contain the surge of adrenaline that hearing him inside my head gives me. It’s just a tiny ounce of contact, restoring some of this desolate emptiness I've been feeling since that night.

I'm in the pack house and we have to be discreet. Meet me in the west forest, deep down by the old cavern, within the hour. Don't let anyone see you leave. I'm being watched like a hawk, but I know how to get there unseen. We have to talk face to face.

I almost sob with both the utter happiness at hearing from him and the fact I will get to see him for real, not just an image in my head—to share physical air and lay eyes on what my soul craves the most. The only thing dampening my crazy, instant elation is the serious, almost monotone hint in his voice and the lack of the excitement I'm experiencing as I pick up emotions through the link.

Can't we talk like this first? I don't know if I can get out right away, and it just feels so good hearing you inside my head again. Don't go. Talk to me now.

I sound as desperate as I feel, and I don’t want him to close the link once more. I've waited endlessly to have him link me like this.

No. It's harder like this; it only strengthens our bond when we link this way and I have a lot to say. I told you, this needs to be face to face. There's something we have to do properly.

My heart plummets into my stomach as his Alpha tone hints through, and I know I'm being commanded, not asked. That doesn't sit well, and the sense of foreboding that sentence gives me almost rips my soul in two. It's obvious whatever he wants to say is not going to be about finding a way to make this work without his father's blessing. He wouldn't care about making our bond stronger if that were true. I try to ignore the suspicions, but I just can't.

Just meet me, please.

This time the tone is gone and it's just a sheer request with a little underlying plea. I hold in the urge to beg him to talk more now and push the tears aside, clinging to the hope that maybe face-to-face it will be something good, not what I fear, and I nod into my empty room. Heaviness consumes me as heartache gnaws at my stomach and chest.

I'll be there.

I sound deflated, sad, and close to breaking, with a raw huskiness in my tone that I can't conceal. I wait for him to close the link between us—like waiting on something painful to happen—and I hold my breath.

Alora?....... I'm... I wish it didn't have to be this way. I'm sorry that it was me.

Before I get a chance to reply to that strained, husky reply, he closes off, and I physically feel the link between us go dead. My mind quiets back to solitary, and I know he’s gone. Even with a bond, a mate can choose to close the channel of communication at will, and he just did, like he has been doing for days. I stare at the wall numbly, lost in the moment and how empty everything feels once more, knowing that my prison is going to be eternal and I can't see any other way.