Awakening - Rejected Mate (Book 1)

By L.T. Marshall

Alora Dennison is an orphaned child from a shamed bloodline surviving in her families old pack. On the dawn of her transition pushing her into adulthood she imprints on the mate she will be bonded to for an eternity, in an unexpected turn of fate.
Only he isn't the man of her dreams. He is the only one in the entire state she would never have wanted to bond too.
Colton Santo is the arrogant, dominant son of the Alpha from a rival pack which is set to unite the packs and reign in one kingdom. In years gone by his disdain for her and any from her bloodline has been prominent. Her treatment by his pack has pushed her to live in near isolation, fearful for her existence and now before all assembled, on the dawn of her awakening, they all just saw her imprint on their future leader.
Fate has decreed it, but everyone around her is about to try and stop it.
Fate isn't about to make it easy on her either, as a long forgotten war erupts in their lands, bringing an age old enemy with a thirst for blood back into the forefront of lycanthrope life.
Will she survive long enough to ever find out why she has borne a black mark on her lineage her entire life? And why exactly, Colton's father is just so eager to see her dead.
Will Colton step up and honour the bond, or will he be the one to deliver the final blow?

• Language: English
• Publisher: L.T. Marshall
• Release date: Sep 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005412845

L.T. Marshall

Books to date -The Carrero Effect (book 1)The Carrero Influence (book 2)The Carrero Solution (book 3 )The Carrero Heart - Beginning (book 4)The Carrero Heart - The Journey (book 5)The Carrero Heart - The Journey (book 6)The Carrero Contract - Selling your Soul (book 7)The Carrero Contract- Amending Agreements (book 8)The Carrero Contract - Finding Freedom (book 9)Jake's View - Bonus bookArrick's View - Bonus bookJust RoseDestined To Be His WifeTil Death Do Us PartAwakening - Rejected Mate (book 1)Awakening - Following Fate (book 2)Born and raised in Scotland, Leanne has lived in both the central belt and the highlands.A mum to two children, she has been with her fiancée for twelve years and currently resides in West Lothian.A mum, artist, and business owner, she also has an online store under the name Liana Marcel.You can find her across social media as either her author name or artist name, YouTube, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter.She has been writing romance since her teens and had an early stint in journalism back in high school.She has many books under her belt going through the editing process right now.Follow her blog for Character updates, giveaways, and more, or sign up for her mailing list.

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CONTENTS

Other books by L.T. Marshall      vii

Alora      1

The Awakening      9

The Fallout      26

Rejection      45

The Beginning      70

Vanka      82

What Now?      99

A War Is Coming      117

I’m Sorry      136

Changing Times      156

A Plan      179

The Agony      201

Time      218

Running      235

Survival      251

Change of Direction      272

The Building      284

Where Am I?      299

Sierra      320

The Past      340

Get Up      353

Colton      376

You’re Safe      392

Homestead      418

Deacon      446

Remember      465

A Memory Lost      487

You are Mine      499

Marked      521

For More Info on L.T. Marshall      535

Copyright © 2020 L.T. Marshall

New edition copyright © 2021 L.T. Marshall Published by Pict Publishing

ISBN: 9798686791732

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s permission.

Cover copyright © Pict Publishing/L.T. Marshall

Front cover image copyright © Darksouls1

Back cover image copyright © Adobe

Cover Designer and Interior Book Formatting by authorTree

Just Rose

The Carrero Series

Jake & Emma

The Carrero Effect ~ The Promotion

The Carrero Influence ~ Redefining Rules

The Carrero Solution ~ Starting Over

Arrick & Sophie

The Carrero Heart ~ Beginning

The Carrero Heart ~ The Journey

The Carrero Heart ~ Happy Ever Afters

Alexi & Camilla

The Carrero Contract ~ Selling Your Soul

The Carrero Contract ~ Amending Agreements

The Carrero Contract ~ Finding Freedom

Bonus Books

Jake’s View

Arrick’s View

You challenged me to something different, so here it is.

To the fan group and all my Weirdos and Warriors, enduring lockdown together has been memorable.

Y

ou know those stories about unwanted rejects whose loved ones either died or abandoned them to drift aimlessly through the world? A worthless no one,

almost invisible to other people. There is nothing spectacular about them, no grand rise from nothing to something as they dawn into adulthood.

Yeah, well, that’s kind of my story.

My name is Alora Dennison, and I am literally hours away from my Awakening Ceremony at the ripe old age of eighteen, with absolutely no one who gives a crap about me to be there; no support, no family, and definitely no friends. I'm a late bloomer, I guess. Not that it’s unusual in my bloodline, as almost every female in my family didn't 'come out' until they hit their late teens, from what I can remember. Much like the others in the orphanage, stuck here with me. Another reason we are snubbed and left to our own devices in this hellhole they call a home.

My ceremony has me churned up inside and restlessly pacing the room I share with Vanka. She's like me, although in all the years we’ve bunked together, I can't say we have ever become friends of any kind. She makes it clear she doesn't like me and, much like everyone around me, they all keep their distance. We tolerate one another, but none of us has ever bonded.

I'm an orphaned no-one whose parents died in the war ten years ago against the vampires. So is she, but it didn't warm her to me in any way. I guess because she’s from a leg of the Santo pack, and they have hated the Whyte pack since long before the war. We were feuding before the vampires united every one of us, and old scars and grudges are not something that wolves let go of quickly.

We were two small girls left with no immediate blood link guardians, put in this place for unwanted cubs to live out our days in unexceptional ways. It would have been kinder to end our misery back then than leave us to live as outcasts among our people, our own kind. Shunned because we are the shameful proof that their packs failed them. I don't think they knew what else to do with us. So many young with no one left to care for them and raise them in our ways and seen as cursed. They were ashamed of the failings of our families, and we are the ones to carry that burden like an eternal black mark painted on our faces.

I’m amazed that kids like us even get to go through with the ceremony. I mean, it's kind of a big deal, and we are kind of not. We’re a bit like the lost boys in Neverland, except ... none of us wants to stay here, and growing up is the only way out.

Your Awakening is a bit like graduation, in a sense. A passing from child to adult and usually where you would find your place, rank, in the pack, and get a mate. I have no delusions that it means anything of the sort for any of us turning tonight. There are four from the unwanted home, and I hear maybe three from the packs around. Just a handful of kids trying to break free, find their path, and all in the fabulous presence of the entire 'Packdom.'

The Packdom being the dozen or so wolf tribes from the state. They all have to convene on Shadow Rock to watch you transform fully for the first time under the first full moon of your birth month. It's not hard to figure out when you’re ready. In the weeks running up to your birthday, you start to change in small ways, and, goddamn, it hurts like having your insides snapped and stretched in fits of severe twisting pain and zero control over it happening.

The signs are pretty clear to all. Kind of like puberty for werewolves, I guess. Maturing, physical improvements, and a massive rise in appetite and aggression. Little moments where you start to transform painfully, and then it dissipates as quickly, so you never really reach the first transition, but it’s reported, and no one can hide it. The pain you know will come with the first time; it’s saved for the full moon after your birthday.

Some don't go through it until later in life, and some earlier. Usually, it is a sign of where you stand in the hierarchy when you turn. According to the Santo elders, the longer it takes, the weaker your DNA, but my parents never mentioned it when I was young. So, being eighteen puts me way down on the pecking order and confirms my bloodline was not that of warriors or strong enough to be anything of importance. Vanka is sixteen, and she too is turning tonight, but with Santo's blood somewhere in her veins, she should have turned far earlier. I guess whatever mix is in her is why they reject her as one of their own.

I mean, look at the Santos. They are the reigning pack in the state, and everyone in their bloodline turned before ten. Colton, the next heir as Alpha, is nineteen years old, lords over all in our kingdom, and he has been running with the pack since he was a mere eight years old.

Every single one of his family returned from the wars, which speaks volumes about the purity of their genes, strength, and abilities in battle. He's destined to take over from his father as Alpha one day, and the way things are heading, he won't just be Alpha of the Santo pack, but all of us. Something that has never happened in our lifetime but will begin a new dawn in how the packs live.

Santo is not a nice guy. None of them are. He walks around surrounded by his sub pack, looks down at the likes of us, and never makes eye contact or responds to anyone below his station. That’s how it works here. Dominance and strength are everything to wolves. He has his father’s arrogance, and he knows that every female hitting puberty is craving to become his mate. He hasn’t officially paired or marked yet, and despite having the same girl always by his side, he’s fair game until he does.

Faultlessly good-looking in that dark Latino, pretty boy way with far too handsome a face. He’s over six feet of muscle and radiates aggression without trying, and is a rare black-furred wolf on turning, one of the largest among us. I think the one time he acknowledged my existence was the day he pushed me out of his way in passing. I tripped in front of him in the hallway to the great hall, and he didn't bat an eye or miss a step in shoving me back aggressively like I was a lightweight piece of trash. All the girls laughed at me when I landed on my ass and skidded back into the trashcan, and I’ve made sure to never get in his way again.

Not that we have much time in the same place. I live in the orphanage and go to the school built purely for our kind, away from ‘normal’ people. He was ahead of me by one year, so we didn't often cross paths in all that time, and since he lives with his pack on the south side of the mountain, only coming to the shadowy north when required, I never see him or any of his subordinates. Like all the rest of the people who avoid the ‘Rejects.’

After the Great War, our people moved from all surrounding areas and convened nearer the mountain. Keeping close to stay protected and no one ever left again. His father is the unofficial Dominant Alpha and likes to check in with all on the mountain when he sees fit. Since Colton graduated from school, we only see him for official visits at his father’s side. Lording over their newfound kingdom of obedient and submissive packs, keeping law and order.

Rumor has it the vampires have been brewing and gathering for several months, maybe even years, to regain numbers and launch a new war on our kind. We always knew they would. I mean, we won the battle, but we didn't defeat them in the way we wanted. Many survived and fled and have been out there for almost ten years, recovering from it and licking their wounds. It's been quiet for so long, eerily so, but there is so much unease and unrest in the air that the packs called together a meeting a month back to decide the fate of our future. Trouble stirring, and we could all feel it, our senses on high alert and that vibe that something huge was coming. They think coming together to create one pack and one unity is the answer to a brewing war. Not that it changes much, as we have been living almost that way for a decade.

We were never united before under one Alpha, though. We fought as separate packs, and it almost wiped us out. There was no leadership, and it meant packs like mine, known for peaceful living and farming, were virtually annihilated. Many of our kin never returned, and it forever changed those who did. Those like me, who lost everyone, my parents, grandparents, uncles, and my brother, are shunned by people who like to pretend it never happened. My family was lost, none of them came back, and therefore, in the eyes of the pack hierarchy ... my bloodline is weak. They don't want to claim us as their kind anymore, and they sure as hell don’t want us procreating and spreading our genes to future wolves.

Warriors came home. The weak did not.

We were never ready for it.

They were farmers; they were peaceful and had never had to fight in their lives. Like human legends and stories dictate, not all wolves are savage killing machines or feral beasts. Some are quiet, land-loving people who never want to experience the thrill of a hunt or the warm blood of another being in raw savagery. In a whirlwind of months, we were dragged into a battle to the death, and children were left in the care of the old and frail or the pregnant.

We waited endlessly to find out who of our loved ones would come home to us until one lone night. When the people who cared for me in their absence, the last of the Whytes who were too vulnerable to follow them, were slaughtered by invading vampires in our own homes. On the far edge of the farmlands, I was a lone survivor who was then shunted to the orphanage. The events of that night are so foggy and hazy. I don’t really remember it or why I was even spared. I was just a child.

I still remember the agony of the day I watched others return en masse, the battle truly over with the vampires in retreat, and no one, not a single person from my bloodline, came home. An entire pack of over forty people I called my own was all gone, everything I knew ... every single last one of them. I was all alone.

There is no pain compared to an eight-year-old child learning that everyone she ever loved and was protected by was never coming home for her. My security was shattered and my future dead, and all I have known since was the isolation and solitude of being one of the many who were thrown here to rot.

So now here we are, a house full of teens who bear the only living connection to our past loved ones. A mixed bunch of leftovers, but no one in the packs will bond to us for fear of producing weaker offspring. It's all about dominance in our world and power, standing, and ability. DNA is everything. They call us the Reject Pack, which sums up exactly why we are overlooked.

We don't belong to anyone anymore, even though by rights we should be part of the united wolf community, this new singular pack location bonds us after all. We’re not, though; they see us as cursed children and deny our mere existence, throwing us to the dark-shaded side of the mountain, so they don’t have to see us. This house is the only home we know now, and the people who care for us do so out of duty but not love. They’re afraid we curse them by proximity.

It's forbidden to abandon a pack child, even if they come from a shamed bloodline. The Fates and traditions have laws and rules from old that we have to abide by, and abandoning the vulnerable is abhorrent. So, we are given a home, shelter, food, and education. Basic care on the understanding that we get to leave upon our awakening. Severed like a rotting limb.

We can go out, find our path, and fend for ourselves. Turning gives us gifts and abilities to go it alone. Find a pack who wants us, if that is even possible. Solves their problem and shirks off any responsibility they have for us, which sucks if you happen to turn at a young age while caught here with us.

So, that's where I am now. Just a mere four hours before we have to climb to Shadow Rock for the full moon, and I’ll transform for the first time in my life. Changing from child to woman and my gifts will manifest along with the first emerging of my entire wolf self and whatever that will look like. Not that I have any clue what those will be if any at all. Not all of us have a special gift, and it's unlikely I will. My parents never talked of theirs.

I’ve watched this ceremony once a month for many years, and it still terrifies me to know I will be one of them. Finally, standing in the center, terrified of what the new light will bring. It’s a blood moon tonight, meant to be symbolic or biblical or some nonsense. Signaling the end of times. Not that I paid attention to our lunar studies, as they held little importance to me.

With a first transformation comes pain and a lot of it. It's inevitable. You hear the cracking of bones, the tearing of flesh, and the howling of those going through it, haunting you for eternity. It's awful to see, it traumatized me the first time as I was still so young, but they tell us it only hurts that way the first time. After, we’ll be different, and the pain will be far less clawing because we can heal and withstand it so much more as a stronger breed.

I’ve seen it. Physical improvement, they call it. It's the leaving of childlike features behind, firming up, muscling over as though somehow you get an injection of superhuman enhancement. All who have turned become superior in every way, even in terms of attractiveness, which explains why most females consider ‘Lord’ Colton, a god. His genes are strong.

Not that I want to change. I’m already tall, slim, and athletic, and I wouldn't say I was ugly. I'm on the pretty side of plain, with full lips, mousy brown hair, and abnormally green eyes. I take after my mother, and when I look in the mirror, I’m haunted by her memory in the most bittersweet way. Proud to carry her face with me but broken that it reminds me of what I’ve lost.

I guess I am what one would call a ‘girl next door,’ but it's another flaw in my genetic makeup.

The Alphas are all handsome or beautiful and physically perfect. You can't deny good genes when it's shown in every single little way. Compared to humans, they are like gods among men.

Now all I can do is wait.

Shower, dress, brush my hair, and pace like a maniac as I watch the clock and count down the minutes to the first moon of my new future.

This could be the first step in changing everything.

I can leave after tonight; I can walk away from this mountain and the people who treat us like we are nothing. I'll be free to run far away, with no bond to anyone or anything. No one to care if I never return.

I need to get through it first, and then it's the start of a whole new existence for me.

M

y blood is rushing through my head to the point I have a headache, palms sweaty, and adrenaline

spiking as I follow the path to the top of the cliff on Jell-O legs. Walking in behind the others, like me, who are to go through the ceremony at the highest point of the full moon. I’m breathless, fighting nausea and internal shaking of fear, body trembling, as I watch where I step a little too closely and almost collide with the girl in front of me. Staggering sideways and kicking stones in my path, accidentally, to avoid her.

Watch where you’re going, reject! The growl of one of our accompanying mentors hits me in the side of the face with an open palm as he leans in close and shoves me back in line harshly. Hard enough to send me crashing into the rock face we are brushing up against, and I almost hit the ground with the force, coughing out a whimper of pain. I catch myself, right my body quickly, ignoring the burning pain of abrasions, and skip two steps to catch up and get back in line while rubbing my bruised arm and shoulder from the collision. Trying not to look his way, knowing if I do, he will probably smack me in the face for showing zero respect to a superior.

One of the Alpha’s prominent pack leaders of the subs, one of the Santos. He’s called Raymond, and he’s around twenty-four. He hates anything to do with us. Another superior wolf from a pure bloodline who sees us as an inconvenience and unworthy to breathe his air.

This is the reality of my life and how little value I have in this hierarchy. Reject is the name for all of us like we don’t have separate identities anymore, and I can’t wait to be free of these people and this life.

Halt! A booming low, and gravelly voice ahead of us stops us all in our tracks as we come to the level top of the cliff known as ‘Shadow Rock.’ It’s more of a large plateau than a rock, but the sun never seems to lay its light and warmth in this nook of the mountain, and yet it gives us a direct and uninterrupted view of the moon every night. It’s been the point of this ceremony for hundreds of years, and we’re finally here.

I pull myself past the girl in front of me and come to her side to gaze at the familiar scene before us. My stomach churning with the knowledge it’s happening. The ceremonial set up of flares and burning fires at points near the ledge are already there and glowing bright, all the way around the curve of this giant platform. Creating a red and amber glow that illuminates the space in what will soon be the wall-to-wall darkness of this still night. The center of the clearing is marked out with symbols in chalk, and a large set of circles surrounds them, one for each of those who are to awaken. I shudder inside as reality hits home that this is it, and I have nowhere to hide. You can’t outrun it; there’s no way to stop it from happening.

Clothes off here and put these on. Scratchy gray blankets are thrust into our arms by a tall, muscular Santo, looking down at us with almost black eyes as he snarls his contempt. Walking past as he dishes them out, I am aware that many have gathered around the ledges and above us on the cliffs' edges to watch this. Probably annoyed that they even allow my kind to go through this as everyone else does.

All the packs are here already, and right in the middle stands Juan Santo and his immediates. His second in command, his third, and his son, Colton. The ceremonial Shaman, in full dress, is standing with his staff, awaiting the start of his duties. Something he could do with his eyes closed, I expect, as he has been here for so many years.

I don’t wait to question the order, eyes down, nerves frayed, but get to it. I know the drill. I throw it around my shoulders to conceal my body as best I can, the same as the others, and we quickly strip down inside our coverings with haste. Discarding our things into neat piles that we’ll return to later.

Transforming rips your clothes to shreds, so being naked is the best way to deal with it. Afterward, we’ll be able to get dressed again, but this itchy old blanket is all I have to cover my modesty for now. Not that anyone cares. Nudity among wolves is common and not something they stare at or find abnormal. So many turn in the blink of an eye and come walking back in human form with no covering at all. It’s another sign of weakness to be body shy and hide if you have to go home without clothes.

The Alpha types walk around in the nude without worrying, seeing they are physically perfect. The only time it’s an issue is if a mate is being ogled by someone who isn’t hers. Males are territorial, jealous, and aggressively unpredictable when mated up, so it’s typical for regular testosterone fights over looking at each other’s women.

It’s kind of basic and primal and another reason I won’t miss being part of a pack. We’re animals by nature, and humans would be disturbed by what is standard among us. I mean, aggression, physical hostility, and even beating each other are not viewed in the same way humans would between married people. Mates fight, sometimes in wolf form, and bites and scratches are usually the best way to resolve disputes.

I undress fast and leave my clothes and shoes in a neat pile between my ankles to stand up, pulling my blanket around me snugly to await the following orders and shield myself from the cool air. Visibly shaking with nerves, I glance around me quickly to see the others' similar fear, pale skin, and solemn faces. I’m not the only one who is terrified. We’ve all seen how bad this gets, and before the night is out, we will have felt pain incomparable to anything we’ve been through in our lives.

Move! Raymond shoves the male to my left to make him lead the way, and we dutifully follow silently, in a line, to the open clearing and head towards the chalk circles awaiting us. I close my eyes for a second and try to swallow the clawing fear spreading through my veins like ice, my throat dry and itchy with the effort. Holding myself together, I quickly move to the first circle I see as the line in front of me dissipates. Hundreds of eyes are on us as they watch and wait. Silence eery in the oncoming night, and I look up to the sky to find some sort of eternal calm. The moon will be upon us soon enough. Soon it will be dark and dotted with twinkling stars, but for now, it’s daylight, and we have to begin.

After everyone shuffles quickly into place and settles, the booming voice of the Shaman breaks the hush as he gestures for us all to sit while he raises his staff. I do as I am told, slide down quickly, and sit cross-legged within my blanket on the cold, hard, gritty ground beneath me. Trying to get enough of the covering underneath me to make it less uncomfortable. I’m aware of the penetrating stares from all around, and I try to blot them all out.

Drink. Something hard shunts me in my ribs from behind, and I strangle a yelp, sitting upright sharply, and spin my head around to see a wooden cup held out to me. Another Santo shoves it into my hand as I unravel it out to take it.

What’s it for? I ask innocently, always wondering when we watched from a distance and stupidly naïve to think I’ll get any sense from one of them.

Drink it and find out, he smirks, walking away with no actual answer. I sigh, internally irritated at his attitude, before staring down at the dark amber liquid contained within, its heavy scent of herbs and perfumes wafting up into my face. I spot the others drinking it down fast, without question, and I follow suit.

It tastes like thick gloopy honey, laced with chemicals that burn my throat as I take it down and almost choke on its thicker consistency. I gag but manage to claw myself into staying still and swallowing hard with multiple gulps. Closing my eyes as the taste turns bitter, spreading down my throat and into my stomach, immediately warming them both. I can feel it disperse into my veins and limbs, knocking the cold of the rocks away from anywhere my skin touches, and almost immediately, I get a little dizzy. The ground around me moving and swaying softly, like the sea coming in on the tide.

I shake my head, but it’s completely pointless. Hunching forward so I don’t fall over, I now understand why every time I watched this, the newest to awaken would sit the whole ceremony slumped down and immobile until they turned. Seemingly oblivious to all the tradition and its stages, the light faded to dark. They have drugged us for the pain, and I start to lose track of everything around me as a veil of surreal sweeps up like a warm fluffy fog and devours me whole.

I don’t know how long we are this way or what’s happening, as all I can hear is the chant of the Shaman as he dances around, shaking things, singing, and clapping. Vision blurry and coming in waves, my body heavy yet detached, and I no longer feel like I am here or even conscious. Time passes, but I have no clue how fast or slow, and all I know is it gets dark so quickly around me, and I can’t seem to stop myself from drifting into space or losing track and fading away. Cocooning me into the little bubble of black space around me, where the smell of fire and incense makes me giddy and sleepy. It’s peaceful, yet somehow it’s not, and there’s a stirring of awareness and fear almost out of reach.

Lulling into a weird semi-sleep state, I can no longer open my eyes or understand what is going on around me. There are warm hands on me, maybe, but I’m not sure. The sudden breeze, although it does nothing to cool my eternal warmth.

Cold liquid and wrinkled hands, as something is smeared across my forehead, making me cringe with a second of reality, and I grasp to focus on the dancing form in front of me. Rattling, blowing smoke, chanting a song as it runs down the bridge of my nose, and I pull from memory that the new turns are marked with a fresh blood kill to prepare for their turn. My face will bear the mark of a wolf from an animal our Alpha will have slaughtered.

The roughness of something pulling across my skin startles me slightly, and then suddenly, I’m levitating out flat or floating, or maybe lying down. No clue anymore. I’ve never felt anything close to this, not even being drunk for the first time a few months ago when we found some alcohol in the orphanage storage cupboard. I’m too wasted to know what my body is doing, and the heavy, loud tones of the wolf song echo across the mountain as the packs sing to welcome our moon.

The memory of witnessing this many times reminds me they take them and pull the blankets free for the turning, laying them down to be blessed by the full moon, and logically, a part of my brain is telling me this is what is happening. It’s almost like I’m no longer attached to my limbs as warm sensation trails firmly across my cheek. A raspy voice comes through the fog at me.

It’s going to hurt ... I can’t wait to watch it, Reject. Or maybe I might take advantage of you like this. Finally, get my way. I barely recognize the voice, but gut instinct tells me it’s Damon, a boy from the Conran pack who tried to kiss me a year ago. He cornered me in the school hallway, pushed me against the wall, and tried to force me to kiss him while shoving his hand up my dress. I fought him off, leaving him with a nice scratch down his smarmy face, and he has been gunning for me ever since. Not that I marked him badly, we heal fast, but I left a dent in his pride and ego.

I can’t react, and as a hot invasive sensation moves down my shoulder, I can only squirm, wanting so badly to get his hands off me. He’s not that dumb, though, and with all eyes on us, he leaves me alone to my fate as I try to fight to come back to a sense of now. Suddenly afraid that he will be the one to tend to me like this after this is done. Responsible for ushering me back to my clothes and the concealed shadow of the cliff edge. Who knows what he will do? I don’t recall if the turning takes you out of the drug-induced stupor when it’s done or not. 

I can’t dwell on it any longer as a burning light hits me hard over my entire body surface, almost like a blowtorch was turned on, and I spasm instinctively into an arched position on the floor. Every inch of my skin bubbling and blistering to searing levels of torture as though I have been set alight and I strain and claw the ground beneath me, gasping with effort. Breaking nails on rough terrain as I scramble for relief and yet can do nothing but scream.

Crying out in pain, writhing in agony, as an intense sensation rips my skin from my bones and engulfs me. My voice deepens, scraping and hoarse like I’m swallowing splinters, and cries become growls, my throat almost bursting into flames with the effort. For a second, it’s like I’m being strangled. I’m under attack. My body is being ravaged, twisted, snapped, and slain, but this isn’t another wolf ... this is the turning. It’s so much worse than I ever imagined it could be.

Cracking, convulsing, and devastating agony rip through me hellishly. Sending me rolling around to relieve the pain as grime, rocks, and dust scrape at my flesh and burn as I graze across them. I whimper and moan, but it eases nothing of the torture of my body crunching and shredding itself apart. I cry out, beg for my mother to save me, wail for the Fates to stop this, and claw at the rocks, breaking fingers with the sheer force of my fight and gouging what’s left of my skin on sharp edges underneath me.

No one could prepare me for what this feels like, and I’m being turned inside out while slow-roasted over an open bed of hot coals. I can’t breathe, I can’t scream anymore, and silently, I writhe and jerk and twist and turn as I am consumed by hell.

Our noises are drowned out by the stamping, chanting, and clapping of the packs, thundering through the ground and reverberating through my broken, smashed body, giving way to howls as the moon reaches its peak. They encourage us to make the final transition to become like them. Combining to howl, under strict orders that none are to transform tonight and break the ceremony. Only the new shall change tonight. Only our blood will spill as our human form is destroyed to build something better.

I want to die.

The pain is unbearable, driving me to the brink of insanity, and it truly feels like my human self is being tortured to nonexistence. Every bone in my body snaps and reforms as though it’s being done manually, one at a time. My flesh tears free and pulls away from the muscle. I’m wet, a hot pouring out as blood drains from the hellish self-inflicted wounds that seem to last forever, covering me in sticky warm heat, smothering me, and leaving a vile metallic scent. I can’t tell what’s sweat, blood, or maybe other kinds of fluid. I howl and strain with all my might, so I extend my face up into the air and gasp with relief as my lungs inhale and I finally take a breath. Barely holding on, reaching a pinnacle where my mind is on the verge of collapse, and the dregs of sanity teeter on a cliff edge.

And then ... everything is still.

It all stops. Like having a cold drink poured over scorched sunburn, instant soothing hits hard and intensely as my noise becomes silent, my burns become cool, and my breaks become one.

I stop fighting my body. I am aware of the immediate cease of all of it and the eerie quiet that surrounds me so suddenly. The unnatural silence. Hazy and blurry as my head spins, and I grasp for some sense of reality. Catching my breath, gulping in cool air, and calming ambiance as the fog clears, my vision returns only slightly.

I try to get up, right myself, although it feels different and stumble sideways with a disorientated sense of uprightness. I’m on my hands and knees even though I don’t know how I got this way. I can’t stand or push myself up as I would because it all feels strange, and I blink and shake my head to clear my eyes enough to see which way up I’m facing. I blink, my eyes watering, as finally, dry is restored to moist, and I see forms and shapes and shadows which then define details and more. Confused, yet there is a calm taking over me, a sense of serene with heightened senses in every way.

I gaze down, and I see paws that startle me at first. Gasping at the closeness and realizing they are mine, where my hands should be, flat on the ground. Large, clawed but strong paws, bigger than I thought they would be. I lift one and shake it, almost as if I need to convince myself that I can use and control this limb. It’s genuinely connected to my body. My legs are solid, with thick silver-gray fur up my muscular chest. I have a streak of purest snow white that travels as far as I can see. I stare at it, lean back, and pull my chin in tight to follow it until I can’t strain any further to see.

I have very little memory of my mother in her true form, but I know this is from her. She was a white and my father a silver, yet it’s rare to combine both in such a way. Most wolves are brown or gray ... white is a mutation that’s almost unheard of, and my mother used to try to hide because it brought only stares.

Staggering on strange legs and fall flat, splaying out and bumping my undercarriage as I collide with stone. I shake my head, the unfamiliar weight of a different form pulling me from side to side, not entirely in control of my limbs or movements yet, but aware it’s so much bigger than my human skull. Aware, suddenly, of the scene around me coming back into focus and realizing we are still being watched. Sobering fast as my new metabolism pushes the last drugs out of my system and cleanses my blood.

The atmosphere is charged, and I’m surrounded by newly changed wolves of all shades of gray and brown, although I’m the only one with white in my coat. Turning as the Shaman’s chants draw my eyes back to him, I trip over my uncoordinated self as I try to right myself and get up. It’s hard to use my hands as front legs, and I instinctively rear backward too far onto my haunches, lose my balance, and reel forward again to correct it before tumbling face on. I slump to the ground once more and meet the dust with a lower jaw clunk.

It gets easier. Try to stay on your feet. All four of them. The voice above me pulls my head to tilt towards it, and I recoil as I realize Colton Santo is standing right by me, watching as I make a spectacle of myself falling flat out on new legs. I don’t know if I’m shocked that he spoke to me or wary that he did.

I’ve never trusted anything about him or any of his motives and wonder when he got so close here. Avoiding looking directly at him, keeping my eyes averted from his, attempting to get to grips with this weird body and focusing on learning to use it. All I can do is whimper back, realizing I can’t form words this way, and go into my head link instinctively.

We don’t have the vocal cords for human talking. Wolves in the same pack have a connection mentally, so they can communicate without talking, which, admittedly, is impossible for a wolf. It’s also possible when close enough to speak to one, not from your pack, if they are willing to hear you.

It feels strange.

I attempt to link with him, weirded out by this new, almost natural ability I didn’t have before. I am overwhelmed by all of this and not sure if I am still heavily drugged when in this form or if this surreal new way to experience everything is wolf’s sense. Things affect us differently as humans, and this disorientation might be something I have to adjust to.

Yeah, well, walk it off. Learn fast.

He links me back, a husky familiarity to his voice inside my head that does strange things to my stomach. It’s hardly a polite response, and the tone tells me he doesn’t want to communicate with me, especially not in a head link.

I’m not one of his pack, and I’m not even on the same level as him. It’s disrespectful to try. He walks off towards his father to further demonstrate the point, and I flop down to get to grips with everything I got hit with. I’m heavy, unsure how to navigate my dog's body when I’ve spent my life walking on two legs. I must weigh four times my average weight for sure, although the size of my paws suggests maybe even more.

The turning will not last ... only fleeting moments for your first time. You will be awoken when you come out, and your path will lead you to your destiny. Pay attention, be alert. You are now on the other side. The Shaman states it loudly, and his voice echoes around the mountain like a prophetic song. I have heard it so many times, yet it finally means something to me this time.

I get up on unsure legs, slowly, like Bambi on newborn limbs, and lift my head as I know I’m meant to. In unison with all around me, we stretch our necks out, lift our noses to the heavens, and howl at the moon for the first time in our lives as one united pack; no matter who we are, where we are from, whatever our bloodline or our past, long and soulful with meaning. United in one song that completes our transformation. A sound that echoes around us, through us, is joined by the hundreds who watch until we fill the night sky with a low, eerie hum that will reverberate around the mountains and put the fear of God into the wildlife.

It feels strange at first. My throat vibrates; it aches and rasps my vocal cords, but as my belly empties, my air departs, and the longest yowl comes cascading out of me until it scratches my throat and leaves me breathless. I feel alive. Like I have been holding my breath and waiting for this my whole life. I guess I have. This is what I was born to be, and with the awakening comes freedom.

I can leave.

I can run.

I can live off the land and hunt to survive. The confines of humans no longer bind me to get by. Wolves can live anywhere as long as they can hunt, and although we have a pack mentality, I’ve heard stories of isolated wolves doing fine on their own. That is what I have planned, longed for, waited for, and I know where I’m heading. I can finally realize my dream of leaving all of this behind me and finding my solitary peace somewhere out there. As far away from these mountains and people as I can, and never looking back.

As soon as I relax, our call stops, and my energy fades fast. Overcome with fatigue, I slump back down and flake out on my belly, sighing as my body tingles and itches with a thousand tiny tremors. Glancing down in time to watch as everything changes back faster than I thought it would.

Fur that was keeping me warm, on paws instead of hands ... it all begins to recede, and unlike my transformation to the beast, the reversal is not painful at all. It’s fast, almost instant, and before I can blink or even get to grips with what is happening, I am nakedly human. Smeared in my blood and flat out in a huddled heap on the floor, saving me some of my dignity by shielding my body.

I scramble to pull my body into a ball, aware I am entirely uncovered and exposed to the hundreds of eyes around me. I jump when my blanket is tossed towards me by the nearby Damon, smirking as his eyes devour my nudity, and I recoil. Embarrassed, ashamed at being naked in front of everyone, and mad as hell that he made sure I would have to cross eight feet to get the blanket. I glare at him, forgetting myself for a moment, then ponder not going to get it and huddle up to cover myself instead.

Others had theirs tossed directly at them, and looking around, I realize I am the only one who has to go crawling for hers, like an animal. He is trying to humiliate me, and I move fast to catch it. Shocked when the slightest movement sends me shooting towards him at lightning speed, I end up almost at his feet in the blink of an eye.

Wow, I blurt out loud and get laughed at by someone nearby as they realize how naïve I am about the speed and power we all inherited. Another change in me I have to get used to. I grab the blanket and try to crawl backward while pulling it over me and fall onto my back as it’s jerked tight and yanked back taut, sending my head crashing on the smooth stone below me and bouncing my skull painfully.

Damon sniggers, his foot on the edge, as he looks down at me with complete disdain. My face reddening with heat, aware of many more muffled sniggers and laughs at my expense, and I can’t conceal the shame washing over me. Laughing at how much he enjoys making a show of me, I have no choice but to try to pull the blanket from him once more.

I know others are watching; my senses are heightened, and my body is goose bumping in response. I can feel them on me from all over, and I want to sink into the ground and disappear. I yank, but the blanket tears from the pressure nearer my end, and I have no choice but to stop or be left with a scrap that will cover nothing.

For God’s sake, Damon. This isn’t the time or place. My father is staring at you. Pack it in. Colton snarls his way, pushes him from behind, and comes into view, shoving him off the blanket, and swoops down to pick it up with speed. He walks forward in two confident strides and hands it straight to me, bending slightly as he does so to make sure I get it with no more interference. I know he’s only doing it to save face, exert his dominance in front of his father and save Damon from punishment later. Either way, I am thankful for him and relieved he is an Alpha in the making for the first time. 

I reach out and take it gratefully, quickly pulling it around me and hiding what’s on show, afraid to look at him. It’s almost impulsive as his hand, still attached to the corner, briefly touches my shoulder in passing because of how speedy I am. A hot searing flash runs through my body alarmingly, igniting something tingly inside me I can’t identify. Like being zapped by a low-strength taser, I gasp at the contact, glancing up at him as he attempts to rise to stand, seemingly also recoiling for what was maybe just an electric shock. For one brief millisecond of synchronized surprise, our eyes lock.

It’s all it takes.

One second of direct focus, a meeting of eyes I have never dared to look into before, and the worst thing in the world happens to me. We connect: visions, images, and projections flow through my mind at a neck-breaking speed that fries my brain, and I cannot break his gaze or look away. Startled into silence, locked in, and unable to fight what happens. My body is rigid and paralyzed, controlled by this higher force as we’re forcefully held, trapped in an intense stare down, and his dark, almost black eyes eat into my soul.

His memories, my memories, his fears, my fears. They become a jumbling mass of zooming information, flooding, invading my mind, and overtaking me as I’m body-slammed with an overwhelming amount of emotions, in literal seconds, that could potentially zap your brain to death.

My body, heart, and soul are pulled into this flash of breath, which completely spins my world on tilt and instantly changes everything. Neither of us can do anything in our paralyzed state but let it happen until the wild ride of transferring all we are, all we know, all we feel, is done and leaves us shell-shocked from the fallout. Rooted to the spot, aware only of the darkest chocolate eyes on mine, unable to break free yet marooned like I suddenly found a home, and his gaze goes from sworn enemy to lifeline in my darkness.

Breathless, reeling from the invasion of his life, memories, and history pouring into my memory banks, I finally snap out and fall backward into a slump. Released from whatever the hell that was and momentarily dazed. I am entirely incapable of any kind of movement as I lie on the ground, startled into silence and lightheaded from what felt like a physical assault.

Holy shit! Colton’s voice waves my way, sounding equally shocked and as breathless as me, and I strain up to see him also on the ground. On his knees, though, looking like someone sucker-punched him in the stomach, he falls forward to drop his palms on the floor to hold him steady. Eyes wide, skin pale, unusually for his usual, tanned hue. He looks like someone told him the worst news he ever wanted to hear in his life, and he’s reeling in the aftermath. Complete silence surrounds us. A pin drop could be heard, and I have no idea what to think.

They just imprinted, one solo voice squeaks out and echoes around us like someone announcing a death sentence.

No, that can’t have happened, another, moments later, and then another, and another. The mutterings of one or two become many, deafening as they all verbalize their questions about what they saw. The voices blend and blur as my fingers find my skull, and I scrub my head to get my brain to function. To figure out what just happened to me.

Me? I did what? ... No. It can’t be.

I lie here dumbfounded and try to pull my thoughts together, unsure why I now know how he likes his coffee or his favorite song or why I suddenly can’t get the strong scent of him out of my nostrils or the need to get up and hug him, out of my brain. The crazy primal urge to get up and sit on him and do things I never wanted to do before, or even a few seconds ago. It’s like every part of my soul is suddenly attuned to him, even though he’s feet away. Deep heavy longings tingle in my body, and every urge is to have Santo all around me.

I lie back down and try to breathe through the oncoming panic, try to rationalize what this was as I draw in the air with shallow breaths, and let my body recover from the colossal zap he gave me.

Silence! Juan Santo demands with a vicious bark, echoing around the mountain, and like a sudden clap of thunder, his voice halts the rest of the chaotic noise, giving me some relief before my brain explodes.

He storms towards us and physically drags his son up by the shoulder from his slumped position. Gripping and hauling him like a madman and angrily turning to face him once on his feet, raw anger erupting.

Tell me you didn’t! He demands at him in a harsh tone, but Colton seems as spangled as me. His usually confident stance is loose, and he seems unsteady on his legs. Knocked sideways and unsure what the hell happened to us.

I don’t know what that was ... I’ve never ... I don’t know! His cocky, dominant tone is lacking too, and I can feel his eyes back on me as I struggle to sit up, pulling myself into a sitting ball and finally have the courage to stare at them.

As soon as I meet Colton’s eyes again, that same jolt hits me in my heart and stomach like a massive thud, and I know this isn’t anything else. Heard enough about it to understand what it is. Saw it happen to others. He stares at me with the same instinctual longing I throw his way, the unspoken need to walk towards him and touch each other. The need to go over and wrap myself in his arms, the longing way we stop and gaze at each other as urge blots out sense and beast overtakes human reasoning.

We imprinted, and the Fates gave me my mate. 

Colton Santo is my destined Alpha, the wolf I’m supposed to spend eternity with and follow wherever he goes. He’s my path set in stone, my lover, my life, the father to my future offspring, until the end of time.

And I can’t imagine anything worse.

E

verything happens so fast that my head spins, and I can barely catch my breath. Our imprinting sends the ceremony into quick dispersal, and I’m dragged away by Santo’s pack and ushered into an awaiting car, my clothes thrown in my face and ordered to go to the packhouse and be quiet.

Everything is in uproar as though I committed the crime of the century, and it rippled through everyone present. Juan is exploding magnificently at the possibility that our future Alpha got betrothed to one of the lowliest of the packs, and I’m not exactly happy about it either.

I’ve kept my head down for ten years, stayed out of sight, in the shadows, and away from the drama the way others like me have not. Became almost invisible and made no real friends, all with my eye on the one goal of escaping this place with no noise. Only to be put on show on the most important night of my life, in front of the entire mountain, and have everything come crashing down on top of me.

This can’t be happening! Imprinting is for life; there is only one way out—and that’s death! I can barely breathe as the panic sets in that this is not goddamn reversible and not a tiny thing that can get brushed aside and me sent on my merry way.

That is NOT an option for me. We can choose to walk away and ignore it, but the bond won’t break, and the urge to bind us together will only grow stronger if we fight it. That’s how this works; everyone knows that. If I leave, I’ll crave for him for the rest of my life until it pushes me to insanity or even death from a broken soul. If I stay, I’ll never be able to fight the need to be with him, and Juan made that excruciatingly clear that it will never happen.

I’m bustled from car to dark alley and given only seconds to pull my clothes on under my blanket before I am forcibly pushed in a side door and almost fall flat on my face into a bright hallway. The men charged with bringing me here are being less than hospitable, shoving me around and shoving me cruelly. I feel covered in bruises, and I still have blood residue over my body and face. I ‘ooft’ at the impact of meeting hard floor, body already tired and weak from what I endured tonight.

I’m still reeling from the drugs and the first transformation of my life, on edge, hackles rising, and dealing with this new semi kidnapping trauma. I feel trapped in some sort of daymare and want to wake up before I have an all-out freakout.

A tall, familiar, attractive blonde meets us in the hall as she stalks towards me. Without missing a beat, she slaps me hard across the face and sends me flying off my feet and skidding into the wall. Burning pain engulfs my cheek and eye socket as I groan it out and spreads across my head and down my neck, rendering me senseless for a second. I am slightly dazed with the force of that bitch’s assault as I try to pick myself back up but fail when a foot stomps on my spine to force me back down.

How dare you! How goddamn dare you, you whore! He’s mine! We have dated for two years, and you think you can sweep in and take him! You are a goddamn nothing, and you have no rights to him! She’s livid. Puce with rage and comes bearing down on me, climbing on top of me while winding her fingers around my throat like a crazed psycho. I lash back to defend myself in my panic, but she’s bigger and stronger, and the glow of amber in her eyes tells me she’s on the verge of turning.

She’s another of the pack which turned young and has her gifts well under control, while I haven’t even begun to explore mine yet. "I’ll

Reviews for Awakening - Rejected Mate (Book 1)

[ancaserban88 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Very Good!!! Keeps you reading on and on. Everything is very detailed

[Gayle Swank · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Excellent! Have read and re-read more than once. Good character development.

[Constance fike · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Excellent reading!!!!couldnt put it down!!!! All I can say is next!!