Chapter 9 GIVING FATE ONE CHANCE
Sebastian’s Pov
I can’t believe I missed the days Alisander wasn’t talking.
I stopped in my tracks in the middle of the marketplace, glaring at nothing. “Are you serious?” I said out loud, earning a weird look from a woman passing by.
“Yes,” he replied, and I couldn’t tell if he was messing with me.
I lowered my voice and kept walking. “Did you read the notice? He wants big, tough guys who’ve been in wars. I’m none of those things.”
“You’re tougher than you think,” Alisander said and I nearly rolled my eyes again. “And this is your chance to get close to him.”
“You keep forgetting important facts, Alisander,” I snorted, picking up another potato from the pile. “I’m an omega, if you recall. He’s not going to pick me. He’ll laugh me out of the pack house.”
“He didn’t laugh you out of his room,” Alisander said, and I could almost hear the smirk in his voice.
My face burned at the memory. “That was different. That was…” I sighed, stacking that last of the potatoes. “He called me a lad, remember? Which is also a bad thing in this case because it's not synonymous with ‘war machine.’ He’s not looking for me to be in his guard. He’s not looking for me, period.”
“But you’re his mate,” Alisander said simply.
I shook my head, weaving through the market crowd. “And? I’d just make a fool of myself. You saw the notice. I don’t fit any of the requirements. I’d be wasting my time.”
“That time isn’t exactly tied up creating the cure for cancer right now,” Alisander shot back. “Go to the tryouts. Show up. Even if you don’t make it, at least he’ll see you.”
And there we go, the heart of the matter. Alisander just wanted to see his mate.
“I’m not doing it,” I said, my voice firm. “I’m not setting myself up to get humiliated. End of story.”
But Alisander wouldn’t let it go. All day, while I hauled crates and swept floors, he kept at it. One would think he actually liked to talk.
“You’re throwing away a chance to be near him,” he said as I carried a basket of apples to a stall. “You could live in the pack house, see him every day and talk to him.”
“Stop it,” I hissed, setting the basket down harder than I meant to. The vendor gave me a look, but I ignored her. “I’m not going. I don’t need to make a fool of myself to know he doesn’t want me.”
“You don’t know that. He's your mate,” Alisander said firmly, like that it changed anything from all the other times he'd tried to use it as a reason.
It didn't.
So I didn’t answer, just grabbed another crate and kept working. Alisander just didn't understand and I didn't know how to make it so he did.
But unfortunately, his words stuck with me, nagging at me all day. By the time the sun set, I was exhausted, but I couldn’t shake the thought of the tryouts. Although, not for the reason he thought.
I was thinking something different. That maybe I should go so that Ragnar could reject me and we could put all this behind us, lay it to rest.
What did I really have to lose?
If I went and I somehow passed then I was the luckiest wolf to ever exist. And on the contrary, if I went and the other more plausible action happened, then I'd finally be free of Ragnar.
It would hurt. It would probably be as bad as losing my parents but if —when— I survived it, I'd finally be free of him. Even if he didn’t formally reject me, Alisander could finally know what I was talking about.
Either way, I could finally paint my room a cool shade of blue. Underneath all the sketches was a bright green eyesore.
Besides, Alisander would get to see him.
I would get to see him.
“Fine,” I muttered as I locked up my cottage that night. “I’ll go to the stupid tryouts. But when I get laughed out of there, you’re gonna owe me.”
Alisander chuckled, pleased. “Deal.”