Cursed Bond (The lycan's redemption)

chapter 1&2

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CURSE BOND

{ . . . His Human mate . . . }

Chapter 1&2

Written by Ekene favour

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NOTE: THIS STORY IS SIGNED, STAY THE F^CK AWAY IF YOU'RE HERE TO COPY 🚫

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Heart racing and pounding loud in his ear, chest heaving as he weaved his way around the people in his way. His eyes caught a basket of tomatoes, and effortlessly he jumped over it, hearing the owner yell after him.

"Stop!"

Ethan glanced at the group of boys chasing after him. Are they not tired? He could barely feel his legs, his strength wearing thin as they had been chasing him for almost an hour.

His fist clenched. He couldn't give up; he needed to lose them. If they got to him, it would be over. His rib still hurt, and the doctor had warned him he might have internal bleeding if the bullying didn’t stop. He couldn't afford to get hospitalized, not with so much else to worry about.

He glanced back again, just to keep their distance in check, but found them gone. Had he lost them? He halted for a moment—they were nowhere in sight. Gripping his bag closer, he headed for the next corner but was welcomed by a punch to his face.

Ethan fell, nose bleeding. His head spun as he hit the ground hard, pain shooting through his back, making him yelp.

"Where do you think you're going, misfit?" James, the most brutal one among them, smirked down at him.

Hastily, Ethan got to his feet and tried to run out of the corner, but was met with another brutal punch, sending him back to the floor with a busted lip. Thane, who had hit him, glared down at him.

"Please, let me go," Ethan couldn’t help but beg. A single hit might kill him. James grabbed his collar, his face inches away as he shot him the coldest look.

"Begging now, huh? Thought you'd learn by now that it only makes it worse."

Ethan could taste the metallic bitterness of his blood on his lips. He wanted to fight back, scream, run—do anything but plead—but the pain radiating through his body was overwhelming.

One of the boys snickered, kicking Ethan's bag, its contents sprawling across the floor. Ethan's eyes flickered to his belongings: books, notes, his phone. He watched as the boy stepped on his notes, and it took every ounce of strength in him not to yell.

"Look at you. Nothing but a pathetic stray," James sneered. "I gave you a strict warning, didn’t I? I asked you to be careful with my essay, but you made it obvious the work was yours."

Ethan sniffled. "I told you, I have no idea how Mrs. Katherine found out," he defended, only to have James slam him against the brick wall, making him wince.

"Yes, you did. You did it on purpose, thinking I wouldn't make you do my schoolwork anymore. But guess what? As long as you're alive and still in Washington, I'll torment you until your last breath," James spat.

Ethan's vision blurred as he tried to fight back his tears. He wanted to argue that he had done everything to avoid suspicion, but it was pointless to argue with someone like James.

Being the son of a famous tycoon in the city, James had everyone wrapped around his finger—both students and teachers. No one would believe Ethan's story, even if he dared to tell it. Not only James but many others at school despised him.

Ethan had gotten into the college on a scholarship, and he'd thought it was a dream come true. But setting foot on campus had turned it into a nightmare. He barely fit in, and even though he tried hard not to get noticed, his academic performance quickly drew attention. Instead of bringing pride, it made him a target.

As the son of the wealthiest man in the city, James was used to getting whatever he wanted—and to being seen as the best. Ethan's presence, his undeniable brilliance, threatened that image, even though he hadn’t meant to.

"I think... instead of helping you with your work and stuff..." Ethan began, hoping what he was about to say wouldn’t trigger James any further. But he had no choice. "I think I should... maybe tutor you? So you can do it yourself."

"The f**k?" Thane cursed behind James, a hint that Ethan had crossed a line.

James laughed, a laugh that seemed unhinged. "You want to tutor me? What do you think I am, a dumbass?"

Ethan's jaw clenched. What the hell did he want from him, then? That was the only help he could offer. He couldn’t possibly make himself fail intentionally just because of James. Ethan had goals too—to succeed, and to support his sick mother.

Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out. "I think instead of wasting your time here bullying me, you should be feeding your brain with necessary things."

He had gone insane. He had finally gone insane to say such a thing. Ethan swallowed hard, trying to focus on James’s face, which now wore a smirk, his eyes narrowing coldly.

Surprisingly, James let go of his collar. Ethan would have fallen if it weren’t for the wall, his knees weak from the intense running. Were they letting him go? His last shred of hope shattered as James grinned and gave the order.

"Beat him up."

Ethan's eyes widened. No, not like this!

"No, wait. You can't—" The boys swiftly closed in, sweeping his feet out from under him. Ethan curled into a ball as they stomped on him, each kick making his head spin with pain.

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"Mister Ethan Wave, you're young, with a lot ahead of you. Don't let anyone take that away from you. You're lucky again... but you can't keep letting this happen all the time. Internal bleeding is not something you can handle," the female doctor advised, her quipped and Ethan knew so well she was trying to keep her frustration in check.

This wasn't the first time she was patching him up, urging him to open up, but Ethan knew better; that would only make things worse.

"We'll have to admit you, Mister Ethan. Your body needs a proper check," the doctor said from behind.

"What—" Ethan's eyes widened, panic flashing across his face. "Admit me? I don't think that's necessary..."

"It could get serious and lead to surgery. It's just for a while. Please stay," the doctor cut in. He sighed at the word "surgery." He couldn’t afford that, especially with no money and so much else to cover.

On the third day, Ethan felt better, though the bruises remained. No one had visited him; he had no relatives other than his sick mother. It had been three days since he last saw her—she would be worried sick.

“When am I getting discharged?” he asked the nurse attending to him, his expression flat.

“Tomorrow, Mister Wave—”

“Can I go home today? I can’t stay here any longer,” he cut in.

“But your treatment—”

“I want to leave. I’m fine already,” he snapped, his chest heaving with frustration. He hated his life.

“Oh... okay. I’ll inform the doctor,” the nurse said before leaving the ward.

The process was quick; the doctor prescribed medication and urged him to rest. Ethan nodded, knowing that wouldn’t be possible in his situation.

With the little money he had, he headed to see his mother first. She looked thinner than before, the hollows of her cheeks deepened, and the once-bright spark in her eyes had dulled. She lay weakly on the bed, tubes in her nostrils and wrist, the steady beeping of machines echoing in the room.

He hated seeing her like this—sick, fragile, and slowly fading away. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he approached and sat beside her.

The doctor had been vague about her prognosis, but Ethan knew the illness had taken hold of her months ago. The diagnosis was merely a way to delay the inevitable. His mother was everything to him, and he refused to lose her.

“Hey, Mom,” he said quietly, forcing a smile. “How are you feeling?”

She turned her head slightly to look at him. “Better,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “The nurses have been taking good care of me.”

“How is school, my love?” Her trembling hand reached for his. Her breath was weak and labored.

“School is fine... just as usual,” he lied, forcing another smile. He couldn’t tell his mother about James and his friends bullying him; that would only worry her.

“You’re such a great liar, son,” she chuckled. Right, he had bruises on his face. Her eyes flashed with sadness, but she said nothing.

The ward fell silent for a while. The weight of the situation gnawed at him, making it feel like the world was closing in, leaving him no space to breathe. The next diagnosis was looming, and he still hadn’t gathered enough money.

Now, he had missed three days of work; his boss would be furious.

Her fingers tightened weakly around his arm. “You are strong, Ethan; you’ve always been. Don’t lose that, no matter how tough things get.”

He nodded, though he couldn’t help but wonder when things would finally get better.

***********

"You're fired,"

Ethan's heart dropped to his feet as the cruel words sank in. He searched for a hint of compassion in the middle-aged man's face, but there was none. His boss looked at him with the same icy indifference he'd shown for the past few weeks.

"But... sir, I was at the hospital—"

"Singing the same song again about your sick mother?" His boss sneered, cutting him off. "I'm tired of being so considerate, boy, ignoring all your mistakes and taking your lame excuses." His voice was sharp, each word hitting Ethan like a physical blow. "You’re not the only one with problems. Get your priorities straight."

Ethan's throat tightened. He had expected this—deep down, he knew it was coming—but hearing it out loud made his world crumble.

"I—" He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady. "I need this job... you don’t understand."

"I don’t care what you need," the man spat, his face twisted in disdain. "This is a business, not a charity. Get out."

"Sir... just one last chance, I promise to—"

"Security!" the man roared, seeming to have made up his mind long ago, just waiting for this moment. This job was his main source of income, covering his meals and his mother's hospital bills. Realizing he wouldn’t be able to convince the man, Ethan clenched his jaw and left.

--

Ethan returned to school after spending the night searching for job opportunities but found none. This was the worst possible time to get fired. With his mother’s diagnosis so close and the rent overdue, he knew he was about to face the worst.

The moment he stepped into the classroom, his eyes locked onto James, whose lips flashed with a mischievous grin, eyes glinting with excitement.

“Look who’s back,” James laughed, watching Ethan take his seat in his usual spot—away from the others. Alone, like an outcast.

“Seriously, does he only have one outfit? It’s the same f*****g blue hoodie,” Thane chuckled, with Reed, their third, joining in.

Ethan struggled to keep his anger in check. Those bastards needed to pay for what they had done to him. They didn’t just torment him; now they had made him lose his only source of income.

James rose from his seat and sat beside him, throwing his arm around Ethan. "Hey, do you miss me?"

Ethan swallowed the bile rising in his throat; it was taking all he had not to punch this motherfucker in the face right now.

James leaned close to his ear and whispered those dreadful words. "You know what I mean."

Ethan’s eyes teared up, raising to meet James's sly smile. Memories washed over him—the day this bastard forced him to their place to do unimaginable things.

James slapped Ethan’s head, pushing his gaze away. "Don’t glare at me, dumbass. Do you want to deny enjoying the fun?" He chuckled and whispered, his fingers caressing Ethan’s hair. "Does your ass still hurt?"

A tear slipped from Ethan's eyes as he shut them, fists clenching as he tried to suppress the memories, his head down, hiding the shame and anger burning on his face.

The classroom, filled with the familiar buzz of students chatting and laughing, felt suffocating. To them, it seemed just like another day, but to him, it was a nightmare.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Ethan asked, his voice filled with anger and pain. It was barely audible, but James heard him.

"No reason," James clicked his tongue, his words making Ethan’s anger rise. The worst part was, he could do nothing to stop these relentless taunts. He was insignificant in the eyes of both the students and lecturers, even though he was the top student.

James continued. "But I can tell you how to get out of this." Ethan looked up at him, curious about what he was about to say. "You just have to drop out. Seeing you just makes me want to do things to you." With a final tap on his head, James left the seat, leaving Ethan frozen.

Drop out? School was his only way out. The only chance to build a future for himself and take care of his mother. The thought of giving up on everything made his stomach churn.

But James’s words gnawed at him. 'Seeing you just makes me want to do things to you'. The threat was clear, but he wasn’t going to just give up.

“Where the heck is the lecturer? We’ve been sitting here for an hour!” one of the girls complained, breaking Ethan’s thoughts. He quickly wiped his tears.

Others voiced their frustrations, and some started to gather their things to leave, but then the female vice chancellor stepped in. The class fell silent, respecting her presence.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” her voice resonated through the room. “I have an announcement to make... Apparently, Mr. Brandon resigned yesterday—”

“Does that mean we won’t have Gothic Literature and History?” One of the girls in the class nterjected.

“No," the vice chancellor shot a warning look at the girl, her voice firm. "You have a new professor to guide you in that course.”

“Let’s welcome Professor Lucian Draven, if we must, please.”

Jaws dropped, eyes widened as shock and disbelief swept across the room at the tall, imposing figure who stepped in.

Professor Lucian entered with an aura of authority that commanded immediate attention. The soft click of his polished black shoes against the floor seemed to echo louder than the murmurs that gradually faded.

He wore a tailored black suit that hugged his tall, built frame, and his dark hair was slicked back, framing a remarkably cold handsome face.

His gaze was sharp and cold as it swept across the space. Was he even human? Everything about this man screamed perfection.

Ethan felt an unusual magnetic pull that made his breath hitch. Something about him felt off.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” Professor Lucian’s voice sliced through the silence, deep and sharp like the edge of a dagger. “I’ll be taking the Gothic Literature and History course for the remainder of the semester.”

Ethan’s gaze remained fixed on him. Suddenly, those cold eyes flicked in his direction, causing Ethan’s heart to skip a beat.

He quickly averted his gaze, his chest heaving as a strange heat rose to his cheeks.

What was wrong with him?

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