Awakening: Book 1

by L. T. Marshall

  I ignore him completely, annoyed at myself for once again turning hostile when he was genuinely fooling around, but the fact I know we have two weeks before he marks that bitch as his, has me feeling all kinds of foul things. It doesn’t help that she spent the last few hours watching me, laughing at my attempts to keep up, and cartwheeling around me like some sort of gold medal gymnast, showing off, showing me how much better she is. She tried to make me look inadequate and kept interfering any time he got too close in showing me what to do.

  Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you. Talk to me.

  His voice invades my mind as I try and put distance between us, but it just irritates me all the more.

  Just make up your mind, okay…. Stop messing with my head and giving me mixed signals. It’s not fair.

  The obvious pain in my tone ebbs through and I flinch as he speeds up and catches me from behind, yanking me back by the upper arm and spinning me too him a tad aggressively. His little muscle in his jaw that twitches sometimes is working overtime and I stare blankly at his chest to avoid eye contact.

  “You told me we should take the time we have and do what the fates wanted us to do” he frowns at me, defensively, pulling me back a second time when I try to back off and gain distance, his voice edged with the same low irritation as mine. He has no right to be tetchy in this, and it’s not the way to handle my change of attitude.

  “Yeah, right before you stopped kissing me and walked away. You, again; hot and cold!” I point out, frustrated beyond belief and stupefied he doesn’t see how he’s being.

  “I’m not being hot and cold. I told you I love you and want to be with you! It’s just the shit keeping us apart that’s getting to me. I don’t want this to be harder, but at the same time I can’t not be with you. I’m drawn to touch you, be with you, constantly. That’s not mixed signaling.” He really doesn’t see it the way I do, and I almost yell it in his face as the good old inner temper explodes at him.

  “YES, it fucking IS!!” I shove him away hard, aware some around us have stopped to look up, engrossed in the possible hint of drama going on over here, but I pull my head up and glare at any I catch with eyes this way. Completely combative, and not like me at all. Surprisingly, any I challenge look away fast and Colton hauls me back for a third time, oblivious to his wrongdoing and feeding on my spreading anger.

  “Look…. I’m sorry…” It’s delivered through semi gritted teeth and I know it’s probably more from the fact I’m drawing unwanted attention and publicly challenging his authority, than being pissed at me, but it’s not the right way to handle me when I’m already overly tired from hours of physical ed, and sensitive, because I love him, and this whole thing is shitty as hell.

  “Aren’t you always?” I raise a brow, sarcasm oozing like molten lava from my lips. I slap his hand off my arm, not caring if it stung, and make a fast dash to put distance between us before he reaches out again.

  Leave me alone! I shout it at him mentally and don’t let up, taking a sprint for the door and dashing forward as soon as it comes into view. At least super speed has its advantages sometimes, and I almost collide with a group of young teens coming out the main door and have to skid to a halt. Someone large, and familiar, colliding into the back of me with equal speed, and emergency braking in such a way it almost sends me flying. Colton catches me around the waist as I topple headfirst from the impact and rights me just as fast, pulling me up so we weirdly end up back in the position that started this whole bickering argument. Me in his arms, as he’s wrapped around me from behind and his mouth at my ear. Only this time it doesn’t ignite a desire to snuggle in. Fuming and ready to claw his eyes out, I turn in his arms to face him down.

  “You want me to ignore all this and just go with my heart? You want me to share your bed every night, act like everything is rosy, and perfect, and my father won’t do everything in his power to end this if I try to defy him? You don’t know what he’s capable of, Lorey. You don’t know the lengths he will go to stop someone he loves from doing something he deems wrong for our pack. I may be his son, but that means nothing.” His biting tone, and flash of fierce in that normally cool expression snaps me to attention at the strained way the words rush out, his eyes softening from almost amber anger to that dark brown under lowered brows, blows a little wind out of my sails.

  “Like what?” Tears bite in sheer agitation, my emotions getting the better of me that here we are, arguing over this again, caught suddenly with the pain in his eyes, and he lowers his voice.

  “You never stop to wonder where my mother is? Our Luna… who should be here for her people, being the heart and glue that tends to our vulnerable, in all these years?” That low, raw question, which brings amber to his eye’s fully, winds me with the unexpectedness of it and I try to claw at the memory banks for an answer in the moment. Remembering my own suspicions from before.

  Sometimes accessing his memories is not that easy. There are so many, jumbled together, out of sequence, so sometimes it’s better to know what or who you’re looking for if trying to find an answer. There are confused snippets and nothing concrete that I can pull out in a second, other than she was unwell.

  “Well, where is she?” My fury dies a little, curiosity shining through and toning down this row. I can’t sustain that kind of mad when my lame heart gets upset over him. Colton is a weakness, and he seems to know how to disarm my fury and cut right to the bone without trying. People seem bored we’ve stopped yelling and go about their day, bypassing us once more as he lets go of me and takes my hand instead. Tangling fingers intimately, his warm, strong, solid in my smaller, softer, looser, tightly.

  “Maybe we need to have a talk somewhere private. I thought you would have seen all this in your head, but maybe not. I guess because I have so few memories to share of her. Come on.”

  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.

  It winds me, my insides clenching up with the gravity of what he said, and I stay sat in mute silence staring at him, trying to get my head around that. Figuring out what I’m meant to say to that. Mental illness in wolves is rare, considering we can magically heal everything inside of us when we turn, even our brains.

  “He sent her away… my own mom, his own mate. Cast her aside because her condition could hurt the 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 want me to. He says it would scar me. That it would crush me.” Colton stares at the can in his hand, exhaling heavily as he deflates and seems so lost and young in this moment. A little boy pining for the mother he can never see.

  It’s starting to click in place, even if Colton doesn’t see it himself. He doesn’t realize the link between him rejecting me for not being what the pack needs, 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 what she must have seen to end up a shell of a person who abandoned all she loved. Locked in her own mind, silently, and eternally adrift.

  The Luna, she’s meant to be the gentle touch of her people. Her focus is on the young and vulnerable, while her alpha mate is the 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 were pushed aside and forgotten. She would never have allowed the orphans to be cast out; it’s the job of a Luna, to maternally protect the young, the innocent, the unloved. It all makes so much more sense now.

  Juan’s focus is all about keeping the pack powerful and promoting unity among the strongest. He isn’t interested in the weak and condemned them to the dark side, so he didn’t have to take on his mate’s role and care for them. He even sent his own away because she failed to fit his expectations, that’s how power hungry he is.

  No wonder Juan has become so much colder and crueler. His softer voice of reason, who could sway with her bond to him, has been gone for years and offers no conflict to the decisions he makes. Only a mate is truly allowed to argue, sway, dispute 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 out.

  “He didn’t even let me say goodbye… he said it was for the best. Just had her moved and didn’t tell me until she was gone. I feel like he’s ashamed of her for being weak.” Colton’s voice 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 he hasn’t lost her to the underworld.

  “And that’s why he hates me, because he thinks I’m the same.” I point out, watching for the reaction on his face, his eyes still glowing amber as he stares at the floor over his crossed legs, unable to look me in the eye when caught in despair. I think Colton is ashamed of being so broken by this, another pointer of Juan’s parenting skill. Colton has been lacking a mother’s touch for half his life. The most important 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 Luna’s job as his mother. He’s been at his father’s mercy for years, baring down on him, and conditioning his outlook without restraint, it’s any wonder Colton’s as caring as he is and not more like Juan. Teaching him the cruelest of lessons about loyalty and compassion to your mate, and the unimportance of love.

  He discarded her as weak and put her somewhere to rot, because he was shamed by her inability to handle what was thrown at her. He chose the good of the pack, over the mate he was destined to care for. No wonder Colton is screwed up. His role model, 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 if it goes against his own needs.

  “He just wants to protect me from the heartache he’s endured. A mate in bond who still plagues his mind, but it’s like she’s dead. I don’t think he goes to wherever she is 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 much. Juan probably chastises him for any kind of compassion, empathy, or show of care in this way.

  Impulsively I slide from 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 worn warrior in the space of a year.

  “I’m not her. This isn’t about us.” I point out, knowing that somewhere deep inside he has those doubts. He saw my gifts coming through, he’s started to really know me, and I hope he can see that as vulnerable as I may appear, there’s a strength in me. The vampire attack it hurt me, left my heart weeping for those I’ve lost, left me with horrible dreams and a fear of th
e dark shadows, but it didn’t crush me. Neither did the loss of all I held dear when I was only eight years old.

  He needs to know that this situation might have a completely different outcome to his mom’s and that what happened to her, is so rare, I never knew it could before he told me.

  “It doesn’t matter what I think. If I believe you’re stronger than her or not. He thinks I’m blinded by the bond and he doesn’t trust my judgement. How can I know if he’s right or wrong, when I’m so inanely in need 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 I don’t think my heads clear enough to know without my heart always changing it.”

  I get the full whack of his confusion and despair as he lets go of the floodgates he’s been holding back, and I’m swamped instantly with the chaos that’s been living inside of him since that night. It’s overwhelming, and I am drowned with the urge to sob, tear my heart out, wail, kick someone and scream all at the 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 brain to him.

  “Tell me honestly…. Deep down in your gut, your instinct, without questioning it, just impulsively answer; do you think I’m capable of being that Luna?”

  I need to know his true feelings without his foggy mess coloring it. Need to understand what our future really holds. If he really believes I’ll be wrong for his people, deep in his heart, then I know, no amount of time together, kissing, or even sex, will sway him from doing what’s right. His father’s a voice in his head and his mom is a shining example of the result if he chooses wrongly. His people matter more than I ever gave him credit for, and his head is full of the vampire wars that are going to start all over again. If he does believe in us, then I can’t let him stray down this path without a fight.