Rejected Mate and Following Fate

He is all in wolf mode in his head and acting like a male hitting the haze. Possessively close, practically bearing down on me as the femme he clearly wants to bone. It's a little unnerving that he is being so weird, but I get it … I left him. I knew where I was and was in control of my being gone, so I never had that frantic pain of loss. I always knew where he was, and how to reach him, and could have if I needed, and wanted to, but he had none of that.

He just had silence, no idea where in the world I went and not knowing if I was okay, so I guess it's why he seems a little stirred up and wolfy crazy. His bond instincts to protect me must have made him insane these last weeks, and until now I never really thought of it. How that must have made him feel, the powerless nature of it. Especially if he could feel my fear, my panic, my sadness, in everything I have been through. His wolf taking over, and sheer instinct is to stay on my ass and convince me I need, and like him stuck to me. That primal aggressive urge to stick to his mate and kill anything that comes near her.

Normally the human in us counterbalances it a lot better than he is, but I guess I can let it slide while he's caught in our first moments of reunion. My scent alone must be affecting him on all kinds of unbearable levels, because even his is getting under my skin and making me crazy. It's taking all my will power to not turn and wrap myself around him.

I walk a few steps to put distance between us unsuccessfully, him bumping me the whole way in an almost claustrophobic manner. I stop when I know we're fully inside and then reach, feeling his face above mine with his taller height, having him towering behind me. I cup his chin just behind me, stretching my arm slightly and lift it, so he looks directly at the corner where Sierra lays in front of him. His senses are all on me so that he hasn't even clicked she's here. That there's anyone else in here.

There's a moment of pause. I sense the heart stop, and inhale. I feel everything that he exudes, and it makes my own emotions fade in comparison. His shift from 'I need you' possessive over-hormonal crazy, to 'what's going on' confusion, and then the 'is that?' shock as everything about him changes.

Colton steps around me instantly, freeing me from his presence as his attention is swept out from under him and darts to the bed in the dark. Swift, and direct, seeing exactly who it was in the dimness. Doc seems to be shuffling around and manages to click something that illuminates the back of the truck with built in low lights and I focus on Colton sliding to his mom's side, scooping up her hand carefully, and almost gasping in shock. He leans in, making her look so small in comparison to him and gently strokes his thumb across her pale hand. All the tenderness of a sweet child, infatuated with the mom he's been pining for years.

"Mom…. Is that really you? Can you hear me?" he sounds like a lost little boy, so young, and vulnerable, an aching rawness to his tone, and for a moment I forget my anger and nothing but compassion for him fills my heart. I can feel the way this has ripped his heart open, and his pulse is racing so speedily, mine starts to match it. Colton regresses ten years, and he's just a boy finding his mom, whom he's needed for so long, so much more than anyone could ever have known.

"She's sedated; the doc needs to wake her, but she doesn't know what's going on. Colton, you need to know…. there's nothing wrong with her mind." I point out, coming level with him, and resting my hand on his arm as he stares at her, eyes fixed on her face. His breathing is shallow, and the confusion and pain is evident under that furrowed brow, and glowing amber eyes. He can't contain his emotion, so his wolf is showing. He swallows hard, reaches out lifting a strand of her hair and brushes it back gently, so carefully like she's fine china, so fixated on her, like this is some kind of dream he doesn't want to wake from.

"How... where?" his voice breaks, a harsh croak, and the doc seems to keep his distance to let me be the one to explain. It's not an easy thing to tell a guy that the father he loved all this time is the reason his mother was imprisoned and put to sleep. I don't even know how or where to begin, and I hesitate, looking to the doc, mildly panic stricken for a moment when it comes to me. The doc shrugs and nods at him, as though encouraging me. I think he's a little intimidated by Colton to be fair, I mean he did threaten to kill him three minutes ago.

I don't need to tell him. I need to show him. It's the only way I know how.

it's better to do it this way. So you can see for yourself." I whisper, reaching up and laying my fingertips on his temple and wait for his permission. Tensing as my touch seems so light and hesitant on him, that familiarity dragging me to draw closer. Colton nods, oblivious to me really, while his attention is on her, knowing I

to turn east and follow that path, to finding the facility, then being caught… Deacon, the doctor, the cell and finding Sierra, right until

to give him all of it, even the parts I'm afraid of him knowing, because I don't have the words to tell him about his

plays in and he relives what I did in the past couple of days, seeing, hearing, learning everything I did. Feeling what I did and experiencing everything he must have felt from afar. In microseconds of time, the way transference works. Even the part I was most afraid of telling him….

down as he disconnects from me, and that wall of emotion blanking, pushes me away. It's not something most wolves can do, especially to an imprinted bond, but Colton does it right now and shields me from everything he's

completely overwhelming and he doesn't want to make me feel them too. He's protecting me and pulling back so he doesn't share what he's experiencing. He stands, lets go of his mom's hand and looks over my head at the doc, a glazed distant expression and not what I was

own feelings, because it was too much for him, or if he is just really, really pissed. I honestly cannot tell, but there is a brewing storm in the air around him, even if he is shielding me. I guess finding out everything in your life was a lie, and the villain in your story is your own father, has to hurt as

to bring her round fully, but she may take weeks to properly come to and recover enough to turn, there is no telling. She's been asleep for a very long time, and I don't know what kind of harm that has caused her." The doctor looks helpless and I can tell he too doesn't know how to react to Colton being so…. unemotional. It's like he didn't find his long-lost mother laid sedated in

of anger, and I guess I feel a little smug about that. Colton might actually rip that jerk a new one after all. I honestly hope Deacon does show up, because I know my Santo will kick that Santo's ass into next week, and I actually don't mind

out the window at the assembled vehicles out there and I know he's linking the pack to tell them to move. He's issuing orders, and I follow and climb into the passenger seat, a little afloat with the sudden disconnect in him and unsure how to behave. This version is a

the trucks, counting maybe five, and way too many for the sub pack, unless they're spread thinly among them, but can't make out who's driving at all. The headlights are screwing with my night vision and I can't see anything but light glare when I try and look past them. I wonder if

get slid and clicked in place, he glances back to make sure the doc has pulled down one of the folding seats and strapped himself in before he moves us on. The fleet of vehicles roar into life and two stay back to let us pass and follow. So, we're flanked, and Colton just focuses on driving. He positions us right in the middle of the other

him say something overpowers my need to be mad at him,

and not the person I've been growing into these past weeks. When faced with this guy, it seems I become a submissive, lovesick, fool, and I silently hate myself for it. Colton seems different too now though, as I sit and evaluate his profile in the light of the headlights shining back at us from

of cheeky confidence, but yet he seems older. More mature, maybe a slight aging that has him seeming less carefree, and high school jock, and somehow more capable and serious in a way he wasn't before. There's a darkness around him that was never there and without tapping into his feelings, I don't know what it is. It's more than just learning about his mother; it was there when he walked into me outside the truck.

minutes ago hugged the life out of me with sheer need, and now I'm not allowed to touch him. I shouldn't be upset. He's hurt, he's processing, and he's in his own head, and it's pretty hypocritical for me to be mad about that. I didn't want him