Rejected By My Fated Mate

Chapter 3

Nora.

Nora.

I have never admired jumping off a cliff and ending things until the day of meeting my chosen mate attained. I was so occupied with how my life would be that it almost slipped my mind about finding a mate sooner or later in my life. I have never thought of finding a mate but this wasn’t how I could’ve pictured it to be.

With a sigh, I look down the cliff—I want to jump off, break my neck and be with my parents. It was better than staying alive and dealing with my cruel step-father and his wayward daughters.

I’m more than grateful for having Miles and Lizzie on my side but it sometimes feels like I’m all alone against this brutal world. I have to fight every second to live—not be happy… live. Live to see another chaotic and laborious day.

Herman choosing a mate for me and forcing me into mating with him have me thinking—is this chosen mate of mine even a salubrious werewolf? Or maybe he’s mentally retarded and his father wants to get rid of him by marrying him off to whomever was willing to take his gruesome son.

Maybe he’s one of those vulnerable werewolves that add no value to his pack. Miles told me he overheard their father talking about my mate. He told me they’re from a trusted pack and their territory is close to ours. He wasn’t sure which pack—I don’t care to know either.

I do—I want to know about him. At least try to make things work… No! that’d please Herman. Pleasing Herman, I shall not!

I let out an agonistic yelp and drop to my knees. I can’t believe I’m really going to let Herman use me as he pleases. I can’t believe that I lost my mother together with my rights and dreams.

I cover my wet face with my palms, dejected, swollen with emotions and realization of my fate.

I don’t want to seem weak, I need not to be weak—not before my step-father or his daughters. Just having a glimpse at their smirking face makes me weaker and more miserable. They feed on my happiness—they stump on it and make sure I watch while they destroy the little hope and peace I have left.

Before my mother died, she always told me how somewhere along our paths, we will struggle. It may be small but it may also be devastating. We’re not alone in our struggles. We can be happy, successful, and thriving in all aspects of our lives… and still struggle.

This story of mine is messy. It is chaotic and unfinished. I feel a lot of pain in my chest that I could barely breathe. It lives in me and feeds on my hopes and dreams. I wish not to feel this way but I can’t seem to run away from my reality as it haunts me like my step father haunts for my peace of mind.

I’ve always been a loved child even after I lost my father. My mother made sure she filled those punctured holes in my heart and I barely even say I miss my father sometimes—only the times when Herman pushes me to the wall that I miss a father figure in my life.

Herman has always been a dissembler his whole life. He showed up when we least needed a burden in our lives. He’s come between me and my happiness. Now, the one thing I have left, he’s trying to take it away from me.

I perch on the edge of the cliff, wiping my tears away—I still want to jump off though. The only thing stopping me from ending it is my mother. She’d be devastated to find out this is how my life ends, meaningless and misused.

I quietly close my eyes and inhale the fresh air that expands my lungs as if on automatic refill, and with the rising of my chest comes a sense of calm. As I breathe, the image of waves gently rising over wet sands comes to my thoughts, and with them the sound of water and song of sky-borne birds.

The air suddenly becomes abundant and smothering, and it brings me back to certainty. I open my eyes straightaway with a sense of threat hitting my nerves. My heart sunk as my body becomes deadened. I know I shouldn’t be out this far and this late from my home but sitting out here feels better than watching Herman’s calm face while I get to go through the s**t he put me through in the first place. I finally allow my eyes to make the journey to his form.

He was vast. His giant shoulders were rising and falling slowly. His back was facing me but I could tell how upset he was at the moment. He appears to be on the verge of a breakdown. I contemplate on speaking up to let him know he has company, or clear my throat, but between thinking it and actually doing it, he spins around and kicks a rock of the cliff. How did he manage to kick a stone that huge without feeling a sting in his feet?

I look at his physique again and it gave me the answer I was seeking.

He halts immediately when I caught his sight. His muscles tensed, as if ready to attack. He shifted his position, carefully, as if trying not to scare me. I’m not scared—I’m amused. This man standing before me is some sort of a Greek creature.