The Fallout-1

Everything happens so fast that my head spins and I can barely catch my breath. Our imprinting sends the ceremony into quick dispersal and I’m dragged away by Santo’s pack and ushered into an awaiting car, my clothes thrown in my face and ordered to go to the packhouse and be quiet.

Everything is in uproar as though I committed the crime of the century and it rippled through everyone present. Juan exploded magnificently at the possibility that our future Alpha just got betrothed to one of the lowliest of the packs, and I’m not exactly happy about it either.

I’ve kept my head down for ten years, stayed out of sight, in the shadows, and away from drama the way others like me have not. Became almost invisible and made no real friends, all with my eye on the one goal of escaping this place with no noise. Only to be put on show on the most important night of my life, in front of the entire mountain and have everything come crashing down on top of me.

This can’t be happening! I can barely breathe as the panic sets in that this is not goddamn reversible, and not a small thing that can get brushed aside and me sent on my merry way. Imprinting is for life; there is only one way out—and that’s death!

That is NOT an option for me. We can choose to walk away and ignore it, but the bond won’t break and the urge to bind us together will only grow stronger if we fight it. That’s how this works; everyone knows that. If I leave, I’ll crave for him for the rest of my life, until it pushes me to insanity or even death from a broken soul. If I stay, then I’ll never be able to fight the need to be with him and Juan made that excruciatingly clear that it will never happen.

I’m bustled from car to dark alley and given only seconds to pull my clothes on under my blanket before I am forcibly pushed in a side door and almost fall flat on my face into a bright hallway. The men charged with bringing me here are being less than hospitable, with them shoving me around and manhandling me cruelly. I feel like I’m covered in bruises and I still have blood residue over my body and face. I ‘ooft’ at the impact of meeting hard floor, body already tired and weak from what I endured tonight.

I’m still reeling from the drugs and the first transformation of my life, on edge, hackles rising, and having to deal with this new trauma of semi kidnapping. I feel like I’m trapped in some sort of daymare and just want to wake up before I have an all-out freakout.

A tall, familiar attractive blonde meets us in the hall as she stalks towards me. Without missing a beat, slaps me hard across the face and sends me flying off my feet and skidding into the wall. Burning pain engulfing my cheek and eye socket as I groan it out, and spreads across my head and down my neck, rendering me senseless for a second. Slightly dazed with the force of that bitch’s assault as I try to pick myself back up but fail when a foot stomps on my spine to force me back down.

“How dare you! How goddamn dare you, you whore! He’s mine! We have dated for two years, and you think you can sweep in and take him! You are a goddamn nothing, and you have no rights to him!” She’s livid. Puce with rage, and comes bearing down on me, climbing on top of me while winding her fingers around my throat like a crazed psycho. In my panic, I lash back to defend myself, but she’s bigger and stronger and the glow of amber in her eyes tells me she’s on the verge of turning. She’s another of the pack who turned young and has her gifts well under control while I haven’t even begun to explore mine yet. “I’ll kill you before I see you take him from me.” Her grasp tightens and I try to claw at her face, struggling for breath, panicking, momentarily blacking out before she is hauled from on top of me by two strong arms and lifted high into the air.

“Enough! She didn’t do this anymore than I did!” Colton’s voice cuts through her hysterical squealing and he drops her on her feet away from me. Standing between me and her as he turns to her and tries to reason and shut her up. His whole body is taut and alert as though he’s ready to take her on, and I’m not sure it won’t go that way. Females, when angry, tend to turn and attack, even people they love. It’s how disputes are resolved most of the time among wolves. Physical fights are the norm, even between mates. “Go home, Carmen; let us deal with this. The elders and the Shaman are coming with my father. Just go and let us figure this out.” He sounds pissed, that deep commanding tone, so like his father’s, only with a boyish edge.

“Why can’t they just kill her and be done with it? She’s nothing to the pack,” she wails at him desperately, the noise prickling at my ears so I wince in reaction with an ‘ahh’ and grasp to cover them and wonder if this is a new thing with my senses … hearing things more painfully.

“Are you dense? Killing her will kill me. Hurting her hurts me! Even a slap! We imprinted; we are one. Her soul, my soul ... did you never pay attention in class?” He sounds as mad as her now and he throws a look at me cowering on the floor, dazed and in shock about the turn of events. Not mentally ready for any of this.

“Here.” He turns, a softness changing his handsome face slightly, making him more appealing, less cold, and he extends a hand to help me up. It’s the first time I ever saw any real humanity in this guy, and it renders me mute as I let him pull me to my feet. That heat and transference of sparks at his touch makes me jump, and that familiar urge and need for more of him, his touch, makes me pull my hand away quickly. Internally bristling and inhaling fast to cool the sudden heat that rides up my neck and face. Blushing, I look away to break contact.

He frowns at the sensation too and backs off as soon as he lets me go, obviously uneasy at how much chemistry is stirring up from something so simple. It’s not a secret he and Carmen have been a steady thing for a long time, so I guess he feels like this is somehow cheating on her. She watches like a hawk; I can feel her hatred burning through my soul and wishing harm on me. The sting on my face tells me she probably left a handprint and I try not to glare her way and provoke another outburst.

“I swear to God, Cole …” Her voice breaks, and tears spring from her eyes, instantly dampening her cheeks. “If you leave me for this little reject …” For a second, the pure heartbreak in her tone gets at me, cutting me in the chest, and I’m a little sorry for her. Not knowing what love feels like, or what this would do to my heart if it was me. I guess a slap isn’t comparable to a devastated soul and the thought of losing someone you thought was your mate.