Chapter 9 TO END THE PAIN
AMBER’S POV
It’s been three days, and it’s been absolute torture, with the intensity of pain maximizing by the hour.
My brother has made an effort to avoid me ever since we got back from the ceremony. During the first two days, I’d see a vein pop in his head whenever we bumped into each other. I could tell he was still angry.
A part of me wondered who he was angry at, while another part of me was too unbothered and focused on the ache in my heart to care.
Day three, and it feels like my wolf is withering. She whines on constantly, she claws at my soul in frustration, and this multiplies my torment.
It’s one thing that I’m heartbroken and it stings, but it’s another thing that my wolf feels as though it’s at the point of death.
Each time I shift, she’d always attempt to leave the pack's boundaries with only the view of our mate in mind.
On several occasions, I’ve had to be bundled back into my room before I’d shift back into human form. After the third time, I realized that shifting was a bad idea.
I’m currently sitting and staring at Clarissa, a she-wolf who was assigned to educate me extensively on the history of Valhalla, rounding it up to the present day.
My parents thought it wise that since I was back to stay, I should have adequate knowledge about my roots and history.
This gave me mixed feelings. On one hand, a part of me was excited to learn about it, considering that my ignorance was one of the many flaws Derek had pointed out, and on the other hand, I think it is useless, considering it’s a crappy distraction when everything within me seems to be shutting down.
“Clarissa, I haven’t heard a single word you’ve said,” I say to her, cutting her short, choosing to spare her the stress of talking when she’s not making an impact.
“Oh, that’s fine. I can start again. I’ll just start from the beginning,” she says with her ever-calm and patient tone.
Our classes started yesterday, and since then, all I could make out was that Valhalla was once made up of fifteen packs and that they all decided to be greedy and power-hungry, which led to a deadly war that wiped out eleven packs, leaving just the four in existence.
And that these four decided to be sensible and sign a peace treaty, agreeing to maintain each other’s boundaries and have occasional yearly gatherings to foster the peace.
Besides this piece of information, I’ve been blissfully inattentive to everything she has been saying.
“I have a question, Clarissa,” I say to her, deciding to do something about my situation.
“Ask anything, princess.”
“How does the Malcrid work?”
“The Malcrid is a place centered at the heart of Valhalla and blessed by the moon goddess to bring together mated pairs. It’s endowed with mystical powers that amplify the mating bond to a point of magnetism where fated souls are drawn to each other. It’s a place not to be trifled with; if a mated wolf tries to go into it, it will either significantly reduce the efficacy of the mating bond to the point of numbness or it will significantly increase the effect of the bond to the point of madness,” she says, explaining.
“Why?” I ask, wondering why a place that brings souls together could also punish the same souls.
“Because, Princess, as much as there’s a majority of werewolves who love and accept their mates, there’s also a few who dislike their mates, so they go back there in the hope of finding another. Most are aware of the repercussions, but they choose to take their chances,” she says.
“Has anyone who has been mated before gotten another mate?”
“The moon goddess doesn’t make mistakes; whoever she pairs you with is perfect for you, but in rare cases, one out of a hundred, a werewolf can be given another mate. In cases where their mate dies or their mate gives their soul to the darkness. Why are you curious about this, Princess, if I may ask?”
“I simply want to know everything I can about the kingdom. Has a rejected mate ever found another mate in the Malcrid?”
“Still one in a hundred, Princess, such rejections must be based on a concrete reason, and in this case, it takes decades to find another mate,” she says, and just as she says the last word, I decide that I have enough information to stop sitting on my ass and hurting.
“Inform my parents that I went out,” I say to her, ignoring every other thing she says as I walk out of the room and out of the house.
I don’t think twice before heading for the Malcrid, and to confirm my belief, I shift to my wolf form and let her lead the way.
As expected, she goes directly for the Malcrid, still with Derek in mind. We stand in front of the door for a moment, and tingles runs through my body like electric shocks, and she purrs in delight. We sense he’s inside.
Using her nose, she pushes the door open and steps in. Once the door fully closes behind her, our eyes immediately spot the hazel eyes staring fiercely and directly at us.
We don’t flinch under his gaze as thoughts of every hurtful thing he said replay through our minds. I have to mentally make my wolf stand still and not run to him like a starved, needy dog, because despite these thoughts, that’s all she wants to do.
“Why are you here?” He asks when he walks up to us, and my wolf purrs, annoying me while he stares at us coldly.
“Follow me,” he says, and in a second, he takes off his shirt, places it on her fur, and begins walking towards the same room where we mated.
I shift back once we are comfortably behind the shut door, and I stand unabashed, watching him rake his eyes over my body, basking in the unbridled desire I see in them.
After putting on his shirt and forcing myself to ignore his spellbinding scent, which is wrapped around me, I glare at him furiously.
“You look like crap,” I say stiffly.
“Why are you here?”
“To see you.”
“Why?”
“Why not? We are mated.”
“I made it clear that this is a mistake that will be rectified, and I thought I drilled it into your head that I want nothing to do with you,” he says coldly, taking intimidating steps closer to me.
“No!”
“No, what?”
“No. You don’t have sex with me one day and hurt me the next; you don’t get to put me through emotional, physical, and mental agony because you decided that I am not good enough for you without even getting to know me. You don’t get to cause me pain and still string me along like a lost puppy, and lastly, you don’t ever get to make me feel like crap again, because I didn’t ask for this,” I say furiously, and he stands staring at me observantly
but doesn’t say a word.
Her or Torture