The Hybrid's Submission

by Ezra Dawn

  The Hybrid’s Submission

  Ezra Dawn

  Cover art created by JeB Designs

  jebdesigns@outlook.com

  The Hybrid’s Submission © 2018 Ezra Dawn

  eBookISBN: 9781370025084

  ISBN-13: 9781984066695

  All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced in any form or by any means without express permission from the copyright holder. This book contains sexually explicit content which is suitable only for mature adults.

  Character Name Pronunciation

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  Playlists

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Other Books by Ezra

  Aithusa Erendale (Ay-thoo-sah, Er-en-dale)

  Brant Poshmire (Brant, Posh-my-er)

  Clay Poshmire (Clay, Posh-my-er)

  Rachel Poshmire (Rachel, Posh-my-er)

  Falcon Erendale (Fal-con, Er-en-dale)

  Draycar Erendale (Dray-car, Er-en-dale)

  Mira Erendale (Mee-ra, Er-en-dale)

  For Lisa Oliver,

  an amazing woman I’m proud to call a friend.

  Thank you for all the support and listening to my crazy ideas. We both know there have been some doozies. I don’t know where I’d be without you. Thank you.

  Thirty Years Ago…

  “Rachel has explained why she has chosen you Clay to be her bond mate. Now, it is your turn. Why have you chosen Rachel to be the one you spend the rest of your life with?”

  Fuck this is painful, but I have to do it. It’s the only way I’ll be able to move on. I can’t let myself hope that he’ll change his mind. So, while it might be torture, I have to watch.

  Clay takes a deep breath and smiles a thousand-watt smile. “I chose Rachel because she’s perfect for me in every way.”

  Bullshit. I’m perfect for you. The fates chose me for you. Not her. Bastard.

  “Rachel is a kind-hearted, loving woman, and I’m lucky to call her mine. I hope that one day we’ll grow to love each other as much as anyone can love another person.”

  Gods, someone gag me. The mushy, mushy, touchy-feely bullshit coming out of his mouth makes me want to vomit. If my wolf wasn’t submissive in nature and still reeling from our mate’s rejection, I’d stomp up there and give him my two cents. My demon side is keen on kicking his ass, but I can’t let that happen either. It’s not what my heart wants. Even though my mate doesn’t want me, I refuse to let anyone hurt him. Especially, if that someone is me.

  I feel a familiar buzz in my head, as my demon side begins to speak. Damn spirit has it’s own personality and everything.

  Why are you protecting him? It’s not like he offered you the same courtesy.

  No, he didn’t but at least I can say I did.

  I don’t see why you won’t let me take over. I’d kick his ass for rejecting us. We’d have been the best thing to ever happen to him. Asshole.

  Hush, that’s not what I want.

  What do you want then?

  For him to be happy.

  And what about you? Your wolf is submissive, it can’t handle the pain of rejection. It doesn’t understand why our mate doesn’t want us.

  My wolf will have to deal. It’ll never understand the reasons for it. Quite frankly, I don’t understand them much myself.

  If I promise not to attack him, will you let me take over?

  Why do you want to?

  To protect you and your wolf from the pain. To safeguard you both from further hurts. Let me handle things from here.

  Okay.

  As the bonding ceremony comes to a close, Clay and Rachel share a kiss. I feel a shaft of pain in my heart before it goes numb and I find myself looking through the eyes of my demon half. The guests around me are cheering congratulations for the happy couple but I can’t find it in myself to care. Donning my aviators to hide my now red irises, I grab the duffel bag I stashed under the chair, stand and walk away.

  Present Day…

  A BDSM Club outside Atlanta, GA

  “Harder, Master.” The sub, I have cuffed to the St. Andrew’s Cross is a pain slut, and a bossy little shit. The little fucker never says please unless I make him. Probably thinks I’ll punish him with my cock or something. Not fucking likely. I have rules, one of them being I never have penetrative sex with any of the subs I play with. Another is I never take a permanent sub. I’ve heard the subs chatting occasionally. Every time I switch to someone new they’re always hoping to crack my armor, to get me to break my rules. But, I won’t.

  I have rules for a reason. My rules were put in place to protect my other half. If I don’t let anyone get too close, I won’t risk letting them get under my skin. They don’t get under my skin, they can’t get to my heart and if they can’t get to my heart then they can’t cause me pain. After being rejected by my fated mate thirty years ago, I haven’t let anyone get close to me. Sure, I have friends, but they are kept at arm’s length as well. It’s lonely but it works.

  I’ve been called a number of names over the years, but the one most people tend to use is cold hearted son of a bitch. I suppose that’s true. Thirty years ago, I closed off my heart to those that would love me, even my family. I haven’t been home to visit since that day when I watched my fated mate tie himself to someone else. I do manage to call every once in a while, but it’s not the same as spending time with them. I’ve never even met my nieces and nephews and last I heard my brother was expecting his fifth child. Gods, I miss home, but there’s no point dwelling on it now. I can’t go back. Not while he’s there. I won’t.

  I left the pack on the day of the bonding ceremony. Took everything I owned and headed east. I spent twenty-five years travelling the country. Somehow, I ended up in Atlanta, calling the Atlanta pack home. I’ve been here for the last five years. The Atlanta pack is run out of a BDSM club by a bisexual Alpha. I say he’s bisexual because he has two fated mates, one male and one female. They make a beautiful triad and will make even better parents. Their first child is due in six months.

  After moving here and gaining admission into the Atlanta pack, I started working at the bar in the club. Personally, I never thought BDSM was my thing but after watching the scene from the bar for six months I finally asked someone to train me. I spent six months as a sub before I learned to be a Dom. Now, I’m one of the few Master Dom’s in the club. Every sub in here vies for my attention, hoping to be collared permanently. I only contract my subs on a monthly basis, when the month is up, I find someone new. I’m sure I’ve left a lot of subs disappointed at the end of those months. Especially, since during the contract period they get what I call a temporary collar. It’s nothing fancy, just a slim silver chain but it serves its purpose and is removed at the end of the month.

  Maybe I’m compensating for something, I don’t know. But, it’s easier this way. Keeping relationships impersonal, is the easiest way to protect my heart from being shattered again. I can still remember that day like it was yesterda
y. The day, I realized Clay Poshmire was my fated mate and got myself rejected at the same time.

  The day was like any other, bright and sunny. Typical spring. Clay and I never ran in the same social circles and the pack was huge, so we’d never crossed paths before but that day, that day the Alpha called a mandatory pack meeting, and everyone was supposed to attend. Because the pack was so big we couldn’t hold meetings indoors. They had to be done outside, where we held pack runs. The Alpha looked so proud as he stood on the platform and named his son Clay heir apparent.

  Clay was beautiful standing about six-foot two, with rugged features, tan skin, brown hair, and green eyes. I knew he was something special. When the wind changed, and his scent hit me in the face, I figured out why. I waited until the meeting was concluded and everyone had congratulated Clay before I made my move. He looked shocked at first, then fearful, then downright determined. He grabbed me by the arm and led me into the forest where no one would be able to hear. After a long spiel about how the pack, while accepting of gay wolves and interspecies matings would never accept a gay alpha, Clay told me that he’d be happy to fuck me but he could never claim me. He had the audacity to tell me he already had a bond mate picked out and that was that. After I refused the pity fuck, because that’s what it was, he patted me on the shoulder and walked away. Fucking asshole.

  I can’t remember his scent, and I’ve tried to forget his face, but I can never, ever, forget the pain of that day and the subsequent bonding ceremony that I forced myself to watch because my wolf side was holding out hope that he’d change his mind and claim us. As if the bastard would risk his precious reputation within the pack for a man. Fuck, it still pisses me off, but I can’t lose my temper, not here. Not while, I still have a sub tied to the St. Andrews Cross and am in the middle of a scene. I take a calming breath, raise the whip over my head and swing.

  A year and a half ago, my dad died in a car accident. As part of his last will and testament he sent me to deliver a letter to a man named Aithusa Erendale who left our pack thirty years ago. I wasn’t sure where to start but my dad had given me a last known address for him and I began my search there. That was twenty-eight states and thousands of miles ago.

  My phone rings. It’s probably my mom checking in again.

  “Hello?”

  “Any luck yet?”

  “No mom, this guy moved around a lot. I swear it’s like each time I get close to finding him, I find out it’s been years since someone saw him. Are you sure he’s even still alive?”

  “Yes honey. I consulted the pack Shaman and he talked to the spirits.”

  I roll my eyes. Spirits. Great. As if spirits can help me with this wild goose chase my father sent me on. “Do you know why this was so important to dad?”

  “I do.”

  “Will you tell me? I’m just a bit confused as to why my father would send me of all people to deliver a letter to some guy he’s never even mentioned.”

  “You know your father and I explained to you how things were in this pack thirty years ago.”

  “Yes, but that still doesn’t tell me anything.”

  “The pack wouldn’t have accepted a gay alpha back then. Not like now. Your father’s beta might be holding the position for you until you complete your father’s will, but you are Alpha now.”

  “Are you trying to tell me dad was gay?”

  “Not gay per se. Bisexual. He had a male fated mate though.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Don’t you take that tone with me young man. Your father rejected his fated mate because the pack wouldn’t accept a gay alpha and he didn’t have the courage to leave the pack, so he could claim the man. You’re supposed to deliver that letter to the mate he rejected.”

  I stare at the phone in shock. “Mates are sacred! How could he do that?!”

  “I don’t know, but he did. Just deliver the letter and come home okay?”

  “Yes mom.”

  I hang up the phone and toss it on the seat next to me. My emotions are warring with me. How could my father do something so awful as rejecting a fated mate? Especially, for the reasons my mom listed. It’s one thing if the guy he was paired with was a total psycho or a murderer, but it doesn’t sound like he was. Gods, what was my dad thinking? What was he thinking when he put this letter in the will? He rejected the man and now he wants me to find him? Why? I don’t understand.

  If I knew what was in the letter, maybe I’d understand but I was told under no circumstances was I to open it. Shit, I’m so confused. How did I not know this about my dad? Growing up, he was so loving and carefree. I could tell he loved my mom, my brothers and me. How is it that I never noticed he was hiding something this huge? That my mom was hiding it? I wonder if my brothers know. I doubt it. My dad probably tasked me with the job because I’m the oldest and completely overprotective of the other two. I doubt he’d have done it for any other reason. Besides, I don’t think my younger brothers could’ve handled learning this about dad.

  We’ve always been taught that mates are sacred so if we’re lucky enough to be blessed with one or more then we have to do what we can to make the mating work. I know if I’m lucky enough to find my own fated mate that I’m never going to let him go. I can’t believe my father had enough strength to deny his own mating, but I suppose he had his reasons. Not that I’ll ever understand them. I’m not sure I even want to understand. Still, I can’t help but wonder, if my dad hid this from us what else did he hide?

  He’s been dead over a year now and I’ve spent most of that time searching the country for this elusive mate of his that he denied. Every time I get a lead, I find out the man hasn’t been there in years, but I think I’m getting closer. I’ve got one more place to check and then I’m calling off the search and heading home. Even if it means getting a beat down from my mother.

  Spotting the exit, I need, I turn off the interstate and let my GPS guide me to a BDSM club. I’m hoping like hell the elusive man is here because it took me a week to get a guest membership to get in this place. I park my truck and head towards the door, thank gods, I dressed in a tight pair of jeans and a muscle shirt. After flashing my member ID at the bouncer, I step inside and am bombarded with the scent of sex, lust, and sweat. Ignoring the sensual scenes around me, I head for the bar.

  After brushing off the advances of three Doms, I snatch an open stool in front of the bar and sigh.

  “If you tell them you’re just here to watch tonight they’ll leave you alone.”

  Gods that voice. It’s like liquid velvet and totally sinful.

  I look up to find the bartender standing in front of me. He’s sexier than sin itself, standing at six-foot four, with tattoos covering his arms and his chest too if the ink peeking from the top of his shirt is any indication. His jet-black hair is slicked back from his face, and a pair of aviators cover his eyes. Who wears aviators in a club?

  Taking a deep breath, I’m assaulted by the scent of black raspberry, plums, and a hint of sulfur. I try not to groan as I address what he said earlier. “Thank you, I’ll ugh try to remember that.”

  “What can I get you?”

  “A beer please.”

  He shivers, grabs one from the ice box, pops the cap and sets it in front of me. “Here you go. Anything else?”

  “Your name.”

  He laughs and says, “Aithusa. Enjoy your drink. I’ll check on you later.”

  Holy shit, I found him. But, wait. He was supposed to be Dad’s fated mate not mine.

  What does this mean? How is this even possible? Is it because Dad is dead? That’s the only reasonable explanation for it. It has to be. I don’t understand. Just what is going on?

  I’ve never gotten hard from someone simply saying the word please before. Not even when my subs say it. What is wrong with me?

  Sounds like someone is finally coming out of his self-imposed dry spell.

  Shut up wolfie, you know this is to protect you.

  Prot
ect us you mean. The rejection hurt you just as much.

  Did not.

  Liar.

  Stuff it.

  Ooo is that a challenge?

  Gods, you’re a perv.

  Now, snookums you don’t have to be so cold.

  I hate you.

  No, you don’t.

  Do too.

  Do not.

  Do too.

  Do not.

  Go back to being quiet.

  Aww see, I knew you loved me.

  Yeah, yeah, don’t get used to it wolfie.

  I shake my head as my wolf side retreats into the further recesses of my mind. If anyone actually heard the conversations I had with myself inside my head they’d have me committed to an insane asylum faster than the Flash on speed. After I fill a few more drink orders, I decide it’s time for my break. I grab a bottle of water and slip around the bar to an open seat, which happens to be next to the sexy man who makes me hard with a single word.

  Cracking the seal on the bottle, I take a generous sip and grab one of my cinnamon candy sticks from my pocket. I remove the wrapper and pop it into my mouth. Thank the fates for sunglasses, otherwise the man next to me would know that I was blatantly checking him out.

  He has chestnut brown hair, green eyes, muscles for days, tan skin and seems to be about six foot tall. Good, I like being taller than the people I’m with. I recently released the last sub I had a contract with and have yet to select a new one. Hmm….I’m sensing an idea here. Best get to know the man before I decide anything though.

  “So, what brings you here?

  He turns to face me and says, “I’m here on behalf of my father.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him. “Oh?” Here because of his father? That’s not creepy at all.

  He pulls an envelope from his pocket and places it on the bar in front of me. “I’ve been trying to track you down for a year. My father, Clay Poshmire, wanted me to give this to you.”

  I pick up the envelope and have to bite back a growl. Clay fucking Poshmire. Just when I think I’m over the bastard he comes back with a vengeance. Why now? After all this time.