Rejected Mate and Following Fate

I hate being stuck in human form and completely powerless to even get out of this dumb glass. Everything in here is bolted down, probably because they don't want prisoners throwing things at the window, and I am not about to kill myself by hurtling my own body through it to see if it breaks. Without being able to turn, I would probably bleed to death, being that unlucky girl who brought down a shard over my neck or something, and still be stuck down here. A shriveled empty corpse to stink the place up.

That jerk didn't even let me eat like he said and my stomach growls angrily at the lack of having food since god knows when. I don't even know what time it is, morning or night, or how long I was sedated in that room considering there are no windows underground. I last ate in the day before sleeping in that damn tree, where all my possessions are, and I'm starving. It's no wonder I feel weak and shaky. I'm running on empty.

It's weird but maybe it's my years of being bossed around, held captive in a less than caring home, and treated like a reject at the hands of my so-called pack, but I'm not even afraid anymore. Being here held captive, I know that the worst will come with Juan, but even then, what's he going to do to me? He can't kill me or inflict too much pain, because his son will bear the brunt, and lord knows his legacy is always at the center of everything. He could do what he's done to Sierra, I guess, but it's not like she seems aware of anything and maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing. No longer tied to Colton, carrying this burden of heartache while he lives his life with that 'skanky Puta', maybe a long sleep will be better than stuck in a glass box for a lifetime.

I abandon the glass and get up to walk across the cold concrete floor on shaking legs. I need to lay down and finally get rid of the rest of this drug in my blood, so I can at least walk around normally and not feel like I'm on new-born legs. Maybe I'll feel better if I take some time to let it work out and sleep off the rest of it. My body is shaking internally, and I keep having minor bouts of dizziness which remind me I'm in no state to take on the likes of Deacon if I ever get a chance. My first goal before I leave this place, is to knee him in the balls, for shooting me in the back like a coward.

I don't get to the bed before the noise of the elevator whooshing open sways this way and I instantly stiffen, expecting Deacon to come back and grace me with his toxic personality and mentally try to figure out the likelihood of being able to kick him between the legs for the sake of it. I climb on the bed, turn around and sit with my legs dangling off the edge in readiness to give him more attitude and lure him inside to my perfect level of height, as I hear footsteps, and a lot of squeaking noises of wheels rolling across the hard floor, coming my way.

It's not Deacon, it's the doctor, and a female in a white lab coat too, and I frown as he appears in front of the glass door pulling the food cart and carrying a bag in his other hand, while she pushes another behind him. He waves at me before accessing the door and slides it open with a smile.

"My dear, we never fed you, and I couldn't let you go hungry down here in this inhospitable nightmare of a place. I brought you some clothes. They're nothing fancy, just the smallest size from the supply closet that I could find and a fetching shade of military grey." He pushes the trolley inside, the sudden smell of food filling the air, and my mouth starts to water with the reminder I'm near famished. He drops the bag just inside the door but hesitates about coming in, and I sit here waiting patiently. His female companion stays back, arranging some medial implements on a tray on top of her own trolley and avoids looking my way completely. She's young, maybe early twenties, and looks very white girl, medical student, human. Blonde, blue eyed, so definitely not a Santo.

comfort, and maybe eating will help straighten me out a little. In human form I'm suffering from the effects of not eating and probably have a low blood sugar to boot. The female seems interested in me but keeps her distance, and it's not hard to tell that my kind make her nervous. She pushes the trolley to

we are most grateful to have one here." Despite his overly friendly chatter and enthusiasm over food, he seems awkward now that we are down here and I catch him throw a glance over his shoulder at our sleeping beauty, watching our departed medical student walk into her room and check on the equipment and levels. The door

not being on form, I can almost taste the change in his mood. He looks at me oddly, eyes narrowing, and it's as though he goes to say something then stops and falters, his mouth opening with no sound before he draws back, looks around once more and

wolves no one talks about. I never imagined she would end up being one of its inhabitants." His face reddens and he shakes his head as though he can't quite believe he told me this. Mentally

rot. Juan, I mean… because she got sick?" I ask innocently, fully aware that upstairs he said there was nothing wrong with her mind at all, but I need to gently draw him

but we serve a purpose that he needs fulfilled. Keeping her alive and.... Quiet. If that is the sickness to which you refer. So, he pays the facility bills, funds my grants, and leaves us to do whatever as long as she exists here, and we don't ask questions anymore." His low hushed voice signals that maybe he doesn't

don't know why I hesitate to call him my fated mate, but the piercing sharp stab to my heart before the word comes out stops me. Maybe because all I can think of when he comes to the forefront, is that

to bear a son you know. Always wanted a child of her own, and the fates blessed her finally, with that little bundle of cheekiness, while providing Juan the heir he was pressing for. His future legacy. He was such a little rebel as a pup, always climbing, and running around when I visited the manor. I can't imagine what her being taken did to him. He loved her so very much." The faraway look, the distance as he locks onto a memory, and I slide down from the bed, motioning to the food tray so as not to make him think I'm coming at him, but I want to be

I have to make him feel he can talk to me and not like I'm prying too much for answers to Sierra's current predicament. 'You move around the prey to suss out the best angles and lull it into a sense of calm before you pounce on it'… is something my grandfather always used to say. I'm curious though, that a

been so hard to reproduce with your kind, because like I said, imperfections are destroyed by your own DNA. An invasion of another species in the makeup is exactly like a virus in your body, it has itself a little war of its own and diminishes the fertile egg. Fascinating, yet heart-breaking, especially for her. Colton was her seventh and I think had he died it would

know he's said it twice now, but he can't be right, about the hybrid thing at all. I mean, my mother had two planned pups and she never mentioned issues in pregnancy or carrying us, so neither of my parents could have been hybrids. Which means I'm definitely not. And then there's the matter of Sierra… she was wolf. And especially not where Juan is concerned,

lording over the mountain bullshit. Juan's constant lord and king kick and preaching to the packs for decades about his families traced pure line of genetics. The Santos pride themselves on being from the strongest lineage of wolves. He would never willingly take on a mate who was anything less, I mean look at his reaction to my