Rejection on the Alpha #1

14. Who's The Villain Now?

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CHAPTER 14: Who's The Villain Now?

If someone was afraid of the stories meant to make them stronger, more alert and less susceptible to the acts of incredibly cruel violence, that someone was the someone written, or familiar with fear. It's like neglect and abuse in a child, made to be afraid just to be stronger, whether emotionally or physically, those who did the abuse intended to make the person they inflicted it on stronger. It's the worst way to go about it. It's the most disgusting, heart-wrenching way. Martin ignores me for the long ride after we received confirmation from the very elders that were joining the route to the main court, the capital for the tournament of the highest of ranks among werewolf clans.

"We need to talk." Martin says next to me.

"Want to call me the villain in this relationship again?" I ask him, bitter from his words. I knew the devils of this world. He had a streak, but he was strategic and careful and I knew I was playing with fire, but I found I cherished the flame more than my wolf. It's why conversations between my wolf and I never came about, why the mindlink isn't always so effective for me because it feels defective. I feel at a loss with it, like focusing too hard on it isn't worth it any longer. I'm not dormant. But I'm not as capable in my wolf form as say...Martin the Moron is.

"I don't like that name and in the heat of the moment, I had to use the word you continuously use to describe me. You humiliated me and my kin in those courts we're headed to now, do you not think this makes me want to turn the car around? Not look at all the alphas who know who we are, not from a title or leadership role, but because you are one of the first Luna's to reject her Mate. Her alpha mate." He emphasises.

I stare out the window, "I didn't want you. I made it clear. Is that a crime?" I didn't like what and who he stood for. Perhaps being a Julius is safer than being the heir to the Darkling throne. Not only that, the Lost King of the Lycanthrope Kingdom. It made the feeling of what I did more potent. Why reject a king, might one ask? Why reject a domineering man like that? A man of power, stability, looks, and mind.

I stare into silver eyes, "That's not a good enough answer." He grits his teeth next to me.

"Shouldn't you be happy? I don't care for your money, power or title. Even now that I know the truth of it, the real truth of your blood. Any other woman can bow at your feet and bare your newborns, I'd rather sit in the pits of hell." I mutter, waving him off, he captures my wrist in a tight grip and gets right in my face.

"That can be arranged." He sneers.

I search those silver irises, "You cannot make someone love you."

"That's the whole point of staying with someone, to see if they will learn to like you and then learn to love you, but you're stubborn enough to deem me unlovable." He shoves my wrist away, the grip tense and tight and still there even when he doesn't touch me. He rubs his hand, looking out the window while he tries to remove the...supposedly heart-melting sparks I'm supposed to feel, yet I don't.

"Probably because you're not as connected with your wolf as you should be." He answers my thoughts yet again, he turns to me, "And for the last time, sparks are not everything, you childish pain-in-my-arse!"

I blink, wiping droplets of his spit from my face.

He stares at me long and hard, like his own gaze can cement me to the ground and drown me in the earth just to teach me a life long lesson about companionship, compromise and respect, "You do need a lesson on those things."