Her Alpha Soulmate

Chapter 1: Clara POV

Chapter 1: Clara POV

I breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the negative pregnancy test. Not only was I too young to be a parent, I definitely wouldn't want to be one in the situation I was in. I had been trying to break up with my boyfriend Brent and he had raped me. This was the third time since my last birthday. The stress was delaying my period. That was the only explanation I could fathom outside of pregnancy because I'd had normal periods since I was 13.

I sighed as I stared in the mirror at the dark circles under my eyes. They were also puffy from crying. I was preparing for a funeral. When I left the bathroom I put on my black dress and returned to feeling numb. The brief moment of relief I felt after the test result evaporated as if it never happened. Reality was setting in and I wanted to climb out of my skin.

"Clara!" I barely acknowledged my cousin Bobby calling me, entering my bedroom. He was 18, only a few months older than me. "Hey, you doing okay?" He asked, awkwardly. Everyone had been asking me that for days. I lied, "I'm fine." His brown eyes flickered with recognition. He knew me too well. "I'm sorry. I really don't know why I asked. I'm not okay and it's not my parents we are grieving."

He sat down on the bed next to me and took my hands into his. He rubbed my cold fingers and said, "I can't imagine what pain you're in but you know you have us. You're gonna come home with me, Billy, and Dad. You're with family. We have your back. Not just now but forever." I nodded, remembering the conversation with the lawyer and social services. I couldn't live alone yet. I was not 18 and I didn't have any money. My parents had died in a car accident 3 days earlier. I learned that they had put all of their savings into the house. I had nothing. Nothing but an abusive boyfriend and a room full of stuff I had to pack up to move in with my uncle and cousins. They lived an hour away in the country, a huge change from my life in suburbia.

Bobby gripped my hand and led me downstairs. Billy, who was 14, handed me a pair of sunglasses and gave me a sad nod. Bobby was usually the quiet sentimental one while Billy was rambunctious and outspoken. My younger cousin was making an exception for today, for me. My uncle James Mason, who was my father's brother, hugged me to him and whispered similar sentiments about always being there for me and how I'd never be alone. He was ready to accept me into his home and pay for college or whatever path I chose after graduating high school. The future seemed so far away and unimportant. I honestly just wanted to survive that day.

Bobby held my hand the whole way to the church and during the eulogy. My parent's friends and coworkers appeared, some speaking to me and some barely glancing my way. They had this idea about me, that I was too fragile. They were probably right. I had become fragile, breakable, because of my relationship with Brent. Over the past 2 years I had changed a lot. I was always shy but now I was downright anti-social. I had kept the abuse quiet, afraid of shattering my parent's rosey view on life. They always liked Brent and his family, the perfect image they portrayed.

After the funeral and visitation I hid in my room. I was exhausted. Bobby said a few of his friends were coming to help us finish packing but I didn't give them much thought. Honestly I was just relieved Brent had stayed away from me and my family. He had stood in the back with his parents and younger sister like all of the other mourners. I could feel his eyes burning a whole in the back of my head but I ignored him. I knew I was probably making him angry but there was little I could do about that. Everything I did made him angry.

An hour after I began my self-induced isolation Billy came to my room. He sat on the edge of the bed and fidgeted with his fingers. "Clara?" I only registered the word, my name, because the anxiety radiating off of his body only made the air and tension in the room thicker. "Yes?" I asked, trying hard not to drive a wedge between us. We were already anxious around one another because we shared a secret, my secret. "How is your back?" He asked, thinking I was lying down because I was in physical pain. Well I was in a way. The pain of grief and loss was causing my muscles to ache and my body to feel tense. So yes, my body hurt. "It's doing better, thank you," I answered, politely. What else could I say? I was broken physically and emotionally? That the secret he had discovered was only a small piece of the truth that I tried so hard to hide.

He looked at me with sad eyes. The week before the accident he had visited for the weekend. On Sunday before leaving he absentmindedly walked into my room without knocking. I had been changing my clothes. He walked in as I attempted to cover myself. He spotted the large purple bruise on my back. He wouldn't accept my lies about being clumsy. I used to be a gymnast and dancer. Everyone knew me to be coordinated and graceful. He didn't believe my story for a moment. He called me out on it too. Billy was always straight forward and blunt, never one to mince words or sugarcoat anything. "Did your stupid fake-ass boyfriend do that?" He asked, bluntly. I burst into tears, overwhelmed with all my secrets. He took my tears as confirmation and cursed Brent's existence. "I won't let him do it again," he promised me. His desire to protect me made me smile. I hadn't smiled in so long that I felt it was almost strange. It made my face hurt.

Even though I knew he was there hoping for conversation I didn't have it in me to continue. I just laid there, numb. After a few minutes I felt his weight lift off the bed and his footsteps disappear.

I felt tears cloud my vision again. I couldn't stop crying. Not only was I mourning the loss of my parents I was mourning the loss of my childhood home, the only place I felt safe. Brent had never hurt me in this house. It was usually at his house or in the quiet of the woods behind the school. He used to take me into the woods to kiss during lunch or breaks between sports practices. He made me quit dance and cheerleading. He said the outfits were too revealing and the moves too suggestive. He made me come to his games and practices, only allowed to cheer for him in prudish clothes he chose for me.

When I felt the bed dip again I assumed it was Bobby because Billy was too small to make the bed shake the way it did. I turned my head, suddenly stricken with fear when I saw that it was Brent. His blonde hair and blue eyes looked perfect as always. I'm sure my own pale blonde hair looked like a tangled mess. His baby blues locked on mine and he glared. "Why didn't you call me as soon as you got home?" I sighed, thinking I had no reason to call him. I wanted to be left alone. I didn't answer. I didn't need to submit here. I was safe in this house. I turned back to stare at the wall. "Please go home. I want to be alone," I said, wishing he would just disappear. 

When he shifted his weight the bed shook. I thought he was getting up to leave. Then the pain hit my back. I hit the floor with a thud. I looked up to find him standing on my bed, his combat boot lifted, showing me he had intentionally kicked me off the bed. I felt my eyes bulge, my fear escalating. I'd been naive to assume I was safe anywhere. He climbed off the bed and kicked me in the stomach and face. "You're a worthless piece of s**t, you know that?! You're not moving away and leaving me! You're nothing without me!" I crumbled into the fetal position on my carpet, screaming. I no longer cared if my secret got out.

"Get the f**k out!" I heard Bobby and then an unfamiliar voice yelling. Brent kicked me in the stomach two more times before being tackled down to the floor by a tall muscular figure with a patch of dark hair on his head. Brent went down fast and disappeared like some magic trick. It happened so fast I thought I'd imagined the whole assault. Had he been here? Then I felt the ache in my face and abdomen. It was real. It had all been real.

I pulled myself together, still holding my sore mid-section. I barely had time to stand before I heard voices outside. Bobby and Uncle James were screaming for Brent to never come near me again. I sat on the bed and felt a heaviness in the air. I looked up and saw him on the other side of the room. The dark-haired boy from earlier. He was breathing heavy as if he has just exerted himself physically, which he technically had. He and Bobby had saved me from Brent. 

He was handsome, this stranger. He didn't say anything at first but when I noticed he was shirtless I blushed. He grinned, "I'm Damon." I gulped, my mouth dry. "Clara," I whispered. He smiled, "That's a pretty name, little mate." I was both amused and confused. Why did this guy Damon just call me mate? He didn't sound Australian. "Thank you," I managed. I was both embarrassed and in pain. My back started to ache so I put my hand to it. He frowned, "Who was that guy? Why did he attack you?" My skin was burning. My whole body hurt.

"My boyfriend," I whispered. I thought he would nod and leave. Instead his eyes lit up, looking almost black. I squinted, confused. I was sure his eyes were bright green a moment ago. And why was he mad? We didn't know each other. Without warning he was in my face, fuming. I could feel his hot breath on my skin.

"You will not see him again, you hear me? He is not your mate, I am." I felt my eyes widen. What was this psychopath going on about? I pushed at his chest trying to put some distance between us but it didn't make a difference. He was solid. He didn't budge. "You are mine," he said, his eyes changing colors. I don't know if my eyes changed colors but I know they closed. I fainted from shock and stress.