-Ember-
"There's something deeply pathetic about standing at your kitchen sink, watching your so-called 'fated mate' wait for another girl. Yet here I am, glass in hand, front-row seat to the Tanner and Bethany Show. Again.
The afternoon sun streams through my window, and I'm thinking it would be a lot more poetic if it was raining. At least then the weather would match my mood.
Tanner.
My fated mate.
The guy the Moon Goddess herself supposedly handpicked for me—clearly during some cosmic happy hour when her judgment was impaired. The mate who never wanted me but refuses to reject me because, you know, why make a clean break when you can torture someone for THREE FREAKING YEARS?
Without thinking, my wet hand drifts to my neck, fingers brushing the unmarked skin where his claiming bite should be. Three years we've been bonded, and he hasn't touched me once.
Not a single caress, not a gentle word.
Nothing.
But other she-wolves? Oh, he's got ALL the touches for them.
Like clockwork, I watch as Bethany breaks away from him and bounces down the packhouse steps. Her blonde hair catches the sunlight, her hips swaying with each step like she's auditioning for a music video. Tanner's high school sweetheart. The daughter of his father's beta. His favorite bedmate.
Gag me.
And just as predictably, she runs to him again, all smiles and energy, and leaps into his arms like she's starring in her own rom-com. I watch, frozen, as she wraps her arms around his neck and leans in for a kiss. I know what's coming. I brace for it."
The pain hits my lips like a branding iron, burning and searing. I flinch but don't look away.
"That motherfucker," Ivy, my wolf, snarls inside my head. "He doesn't even try to hide it anymore."
I sigh in defeat. "It's not like it matters. The entire pack knows about his bedroom activities by this point." Seriously, the guy should start charging admission.
"I hate our mate," Ivy seethes, "but I still want to rip that bitch's face off."
Outside, Tanner grabs Bethany's ass and hoists her up. She wraps her legs around his waist, giggling as he carries her back into the packhouse. I close my eyes, preparing myself for what's coming. Three years of this torture has taught me what to expect. Three years of him betraying our bond, not caring that I feel excruciating pain every single time.
Before I can even make it to the couch, the first sharp pain pierces my chest. The glass slips from my fingers, crashing to the floor and shattering into a thousand glittering pieces. Great. Now I have physical broken glass to match my metaphorically broken heart.
"Why did the Moon Goddess curse us with such a terrible mate?" I gasp, sinking to my knees. "She made a mistake."
"The Moon Goddess doesn't make mistakes," Ivy responds, though I can hear the doubt in her voice. "He is our mate, regardless of what the future Alpha of Silver Moon thinks."
Future Alpha. Right. Because my mate isn't just any asshole—he's the asshole who will one day lead our entire pack. Lucky me.
I curl into a ball on the floor, clutching my chest. Each time Tanner cheats, the pain gets worse. I know what that means. Not many wolves survive bond betrayal for very long. Most don't make it past the first year, either dying from the pain via heart attack or deciding they can't deal with it anymore and ending things themselves.
I'm surprised I've lasted this long. What can I say? I'm stubborn as hell.
My body starts thrashing on the floor. It feels like I'm being torn from the inside out, like I'm being punished for a crime I never committed. My only sin is being mated to a man who despises the very sight of me.
"Em, you need help," Ivy urges. "Mind-link one of the girls."
"No," I whisper through gritted teeth, tears streaming down my face. "I can deal with this on my own." Because nothing says "I'm handling this well" like fetal position on a kitchen floor.
"This is worse than any time before," worry evident in Ivy's voice.
Just as I'm about to give in and mind-link my friends, I hear the front door open.
"Oh Goddess! Em!"
Ainslee's panicked voice cuts through the haze of pain. I feel her hands on me, gentle as she brushes sweat-soaked hair from my forehead.
"That piece of shit!" she hisses, rage filling her usually sweet voice. "I swear to the Goddess, the next time I see that bastard, I'm going to rip his dick off."
That's my girl. Always with the creative threats.
Her touch is comforting, but it does nothing to ease the fire burning through my veins. Another wave of pain crashes over me, and I can't hold back the scream that tears from my throat.
"Em, breathe," Ainslee coaches, her voice steadier now as she shifts into crisis mode. "Focus on my voice. I'm right here."
I try to respond, but all that comes out is a strangled whimper. The pain is consuming me from the inside out. It feels like someone is taking a cheese grater to my insides, slowly shredding everything that makes me who I am.
"I'm mind-linking Oaklynn," Ainslee says, pulling out her phone. "We need medicine."
"No," I manage to gasp between waves of agony. "Don't... bother... everyone." Because heaven forbid I inconvenience anyone with my life-threatening pain.
Ainslee ignores me, her eyes glazing over, mind-linking Oaklynn. "Too late, she's already on her way."
I hear her toss the phone aside and then feel her arms around me, lifting me from the cold kitchen floor. Glass crunches beneath her boots as she carries me to the couch.
"The... glass," I mumble. "I need to clean—"
"Shut up about the damn glass," Ainslee says, but her tone is gentle. "Let me take care of you for once."
She places me on the couch and disappears for a moment, returning with a damp washcloth that she places on my forehead. The cool relief is momentary before another wave of pain hits, this one so intense that my back arches off the couch like I'm auditioning for The Exorcist.
"Goddess, it's getting worse," Ainslee mutters, grabbing my hand. I squeeze it so hard I'm afraid I might break her fingers, but she doesn't pull away.
"I can't... keep doing this," I whisper when the wave subsides enough for me to speak. "It's killing me, Ains."
Her eyes, usually bright with mischief, darken with concern. "Don't talk like that. We're going to figure something out."
The front door bangs open again, and Oaklynn rushes in, her arms full of several medical bags. Her dark hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and she's still wearing her scrubs from her shift at the pack clinic. She looks like a sexy doctor from one of those medical dramas, minus the inappropriate workplace romance.
"How long has it been going on?" she asks, all business as she kneels beside the couch.
"About fifteen minutes," Ainslee answers. "I found her on the floor."
Oaklynn's hands move quickly, filling a syringe with liquid from one of the bottles and stabbing it into my arm. "This is the third time this week, Em. Your heart can't take much more of this."
I know she's right. Each episode leaves me weaker than the last. The bond betrayal is slowly killing me, just as it's killed countless others before me.
"He doesn't care," I say, my voice hollow. "He knows what this does to me."
"He's a selfish prick," Oaklynn says matter-of-factly as she hands me a bottle full of murky liquid. "Drink this. All of it."
She lifts my head and helps me swallow the bitter concoction. It tastes like dirt and something metallic—like I'm licking a rusty shovel. Delicious.
Within minutes, the edge of the pain begins to dull, though it doesn't disappear completely. It never does.
"Better?" Oaklynn asks, studying my face.
I nod weakly. "Thanks."
"Don't thank me. This is just a Band-Aid on a bullet wound," she says, her medical training evident in her bluntness. "Em, we need to talk about long-term solutions. This can't continue."
"What options do I have?" I ask, though I already know the answer. "He won't complete the bond. He won't reject me. I'm stuck."
This is what it means to be bonded to someone who doesn't want you. This is what it means to be Tanner's mate.
And I don't know how much longer I can survive it.
But one thing's for sure—something's gotta give. And soon.