Rejected Mate and Following Fate - Awakening Book

After Juan is done making his announcement, the Santos start to file out of the room slowly, in a wave of murmurs and noises as they discuss what was said, and where we go from here. You can feel the tension thickening, the uneasiness, and nervousness, as it sinks in that this is real and life as we know it is about to change dramatically. Colton pulls me aside, tucking us out of the way of the door to let people pass, and grabs a passing male who is very familiar to me.

“Matteo, take Alora to our room and wait for me there. Assemble the pack, I want to talk to you all. I won’t be long; my father wants me.” He nods out towards the front of the room, where Juan’s still concealed by moving people and I instantly feel sick with apprehensive.

Being left with someone and separated from Colton reminds me, that for all the things I am mad at him about, I still feel secure when with him. He’s my safety net, and the only person in the world who cares about me in any kind of way. His strength, his quiet confidence, and air of control, is the calm to my nervous floundering and it only hit’s home, that I need his presence more than I want to admit.

“Dude, I don’t think that’s good idea. Carmen and Alora in the same room…. she will….”

“Are you questioning me?” Colton’s tone instantly changes, ha growling snarl in the undertones, irritation fast to show his displeasure and that aggressive air kicking in as Matteo looks away sheepishly. Knowing he overstepped the mark. Questioning of a command never goes down well with alphas of any sort, especially not by one of his own sub pack and it shows me that Colton is way more patient with me than even his closest.

“No, mi alfa, pido disculpas.” Matteo responds in fluent Spanish, lowering his head and displaying his regret. Showing the demanded respect, obviously chastised as his leader is Colton, apologizing and addressing him as alpha.

We have one major rule in our world. Never query your alpha, for any reason, and never disobey. I forgot what that was like when living severed from any real pack and only having to follow basic rules in the home. Being here reminds me how it used to be when my family was alive, and we all followed Samuel Whyte, before his family was taken down and never returned.

It makes me rethink Colton’s refusal to defy his father and leaves me churning it over in my head, a new angle on a frustrating situation. Reality sinking in, that just because I lived outside of the restraints and rules of our social norm for a decade, doesn’t mean he has.

dominant. Colton! This is how large packs like the Santos keep everything running smoothly. They’re called Beta packs, or Subs, and much like the hierarchy of leadership, even the sub packs rank in order of

ten years ago. They all tasted real war on our lands. Even so young. It’s why they train together every day and are some of our most capable soldiers when needs be. I should never forget, that even though Colton is not yet the Santo Alpha, he

softly, almost nose to nose, that gentler tone waving through me and breaking down my defenses. That sweet look I now know is only reserved for me, and he reluctantly pushes me towards Matteo until a hand lands on my shoulder.

tell was a move from verbal conversation to mind. Whatever Colton says, Matteo looks away again, and gently taps me to nod towards the door that people are filing out of. He flushes lightly, his face reddening high in his cheek bones and I guess he got a quiet dressing down away from listening ears.

as I move to leave him. I nod at him, not anywhere close to feeling as confident as I pretend, before turning on my heel, steeped in nervous energy, and

but Matteo is also one of his commanders, and he trusts him completely. He’s the one who teased him that day in the lake, from the memory Colton showed me, and I guess he already knows that a long time ago Colton knew who I was. That Colton harbored some sort of juvenile feelings. That even

walk with him now, side by side, a male as tall as Colton, and as broad. They share similarities and I wonder if they’re maybe cousins, or blood tied in a close way because they do look alike. Same thick straight brows, and black hair that’s a little ruggedly messy, like they have a natural curl, although Colton’s is shorter so harder to tell. Same darkest brown molten eyes, tanned Latino skin tone, and square jawline, although Matteo is not as clean shaven or groomed. His hair not as clipped, or manicured, and his eyebrows not as angular,

first clothes to hand. He has a casual quality to him, less pulled together, and sharp. Colton takes pride in his appearance, and his clothes, and it’s obvious to everyone he comes from wealth when you see him on a normal day. He just oozes that effortless polish, expensive labels, and self-confidence. Matteo seems less concerned in his worn faded

them going to their rooms, or wherever they have to be. My presence is noted, and the vibes I’m picking up on tell me that people know who I am, or that they know I’m responsible for the trashing of their

I can’t tell which way we’re even moving as we’re crammed among so many, it’s like ants evacuating

collision with oncoming traffic, trying to be polite, but I’m too busy side-stepping large males pushing by, and trying not to get

my lip to stop the sudden inhale from the slice of pain it inflicts. Even after all these years, I’ve never really fully mourned the loss of