CONTENT WARNING: DESCRIPTION OF SEXUAL ASSAULT
(Jaime)
I move on to the next chapter about pack structure. It explains that werewolves are pretty much pack animals and that a pack is a social group who functions cooperatively to ensure the wellbeing and protection of every member.
Werewolf packs have all mostly originated from ten distinct ancient packs, all scattered around the world. Over the ages the packs have broken up into smaller, more manageable sizes to accommodate the ever-encroaching threat of human civilization and shrinking forested areas. Now, there were hundreds of packs who each fiercely protects their territory.
Packs consists of several families, wherein each family member is born into a hierarchical structure that is almost impossible to break out of. The Alpha family are the leaders, with the Alpha male and the Alpha female - referred to as the Luna - being the ultimate protectors, comforters, and direction setters for all other members of the pack.
I recognize the terminology now. A few times Logan has been called Alpha, and Maggie in particular keeps referring to me as Luna. It made sense now. I mull Loganâs position, and now mine apparently, in my head. Heâs important, and he has a lot of responsibility.
Alphas are genetically programmed to lead. They are born into leadership, but they are also, by nature, blessed with more speed, strength, intelligence and every other enhanced ability than non-Alphas. This makes them uniquely capable of the job and therefore impossible to usurp.
The mantle of Alpha gets passed from father to son at an age where the son is deemed to be in his prime. If the father is still in his prime too the son would sometimes leave the pack to start his own, until such time as the two packs can merge and he can take charge of both his fatherâs old pack and his own. In such a case he will take many members of the pack with him, mostly younger pack members in a similar situation as himself. This was rare though.
Females leave their pack to join the pack of their mates. Thereâs a sub-note referring to the next chapter where mate bonds are better explained. Traditionally, females had no other function in the pack than for breeding purposes. This has changed with the times though, with many packs embracing the skills she-wolves bring to the wellbeing of the pack, including fighting, tracking and more modern abilities such as being healers, horticulturists and having financial savvy.
I snorted at that and looked up quickly with a hand slapped over my mouth, hoping I didnât disrupt Loganâs meeting. But he simply caught my eye and smiled at me.
The book goes on to explain about Omegas, who are mostly the worker-bees, and that packs rely on physical strength and fighting abilities to protect each other and their territories from other packs. It emphasized the fact that pack bonds were strong familial and emotional connections, with a focus on loyalty and protection.
I wondered how true that is in todayâs day and age. Surely, packs canât go around pushing each other off their land by physically fighting with them, can they?
Thereâs also some information about lone wolves, or rogues. Thatâs what more than one person has called me thus far, and I concentrate on what it says.
Rogues are wolves that have either left their packs out of their own free will because they donât agree with their packâs leadership, or have been forced to leave because they did something that broke the societal and pack rules to the extend where mere punishment wonât suffice.
Without pack bonds and protection, rogues tend to wither away and become mentally unstable. Rogues are rarely seen in their human form, and they donât form bonds with other rogues either. As their animalistic side tends to take over and become more vicious, they are either put down by packs who discover them on their pack lands, or by humans who protect their livestock against attacks from these wolves.
I shudder at the thought. I donât fit that mold though. Iâve been alone for as long as I could remember, which means that my parents â or at least my mother â must have been alone too. If I was born into a pack, then they would have taken me in. And I wasnât mentally unstable or vicious either. In fact, I donât even have a wolf form. How did that make sense then?
I sigh as I move on to the next chapter. More questions for Logan. He was still in his meeting though. Itâs been over two hours and my tummy start rumbling. Iâll give it a few more minutes before I go and look for that chicken that I smelled earlier.
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Chapter five is all about mating and bonds. I dig into the paragraphs about fated mates, that deep and often mystical connection with a destined partner. About how rare and powerful it is, how the trust and love instantly develops and overpowers any other bonds a werewolf may have present in their lives, including pack bonds and familial bonds.
Werewolves who are lucky enough to find their fated mates will forever be bonded to them, their lives and fates intertwined until one of them dies. The other will perish soon after, if not instantly, as the pain of losing their fated mate is too overpowering for any being to withstand.
Thatâs actually a scary thought for me. I look up at Logan again, and as if sensing my gaze, he looks up too and gives me another reassuring smile. âNot long nowâ he mouths, and I nod. My thoughts are on this bond he claims we share. Deep down I know heâs right. I feel it too.
The book explains how fated mates can recognize each other â all the physical signs and âthe pullâ. How mates canât stand not being in each otherâs company for long before they start pining for one another. How the mate bond deepens and completely solidifies, as well as enhancing their abilities, once they have marked each other with a bite, and mated.
I sit up at that bit of info. Wait what?
Logan has marked me. And now I read that a mark is actually a bite, and I shudder. He bit me? Am I supposed to bite him too? To complete the mate bond?
No, I need to do more than that, I read, I need to mate with him. Like animals. Sex.
My heart races at the thought and I swallow beyond a lump in my throat. Right now, sex is the last thing I want. Even though the mate bond is making me feel all kinds of hormonal things when Logan is near, the fear of what sex involves threatens to choke me.
Out of the blue Iâm assaulted by images of what theyâve done to me, less than three days ago. Of their rough hands, of the fists raining down on my ribs and my face when I tried to resist. Of when the first one thrust into me with his engorged member without warning and how it felt as if I was being ripped open, my flesh tearing and the searing pain that accompanied each thrust.
I donât even register the book falling off my lap onto the floor. The bile rises up in my mouth and without warning, I retch on the polished wood floor and fall off the couch too, crouching on hands and knees as I keep retching.
Some part of my brain is trying to tell me to at least go and find a toilet or a basin or something more appropriate, but Iâm beyond any capability to help myself even get up from the floor.
Hands on my back and my head tells me Iâm not alone, but in my panic, I thrash and slap at the arms attached to those hands, recoiling with my back to the couch.
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(Logan)
I felt her panic before I saw it. I heard her heartbeat increase and watched as an emotion of such pure agony flashed across her face before she bent over and threw up on the floor.
Before she properly tumbled over the side of the couch I was there, trying to calm her as she kept emptying her stomach. My heart clenched as she swatted at my hands and scooted back towards the couch, her eyes wild and unseeing.
âSssh⦠Jaime, itâs just me. Itâs me, youâre safe. Let me help you,â I say in the most soothing way I can muster and slowly, painfully slowly, her eyes seem to focus again, and she looks at me in bewilderment.
âHey, itâs just me. Youâre okay. Iâm here,â I say again, my arms outstretched in a defensive stance as I slowly come closer.
She stares at me, then down at the mess on the floor, then back up at me again as if sheâs seen a ghost.
âI⦠Iâm so sorry,â she stumbles out in little more than a whisper. âIâll get something to clean up. Iâm so sorry.â
As she tries to get up from the floor, I catch her gently by the arms and stop her from running out of the office.
âNo, you donât have to. You donât have to say youâre sorry and you donât have to clean up. You do need to calm down a bit, though, so you can tell me what happened.â
My touch seems to register with her this time, or at least through the mate bond it had some effect, as she stills and wordlessly allow me to lead her to a club chair away from the mess.
I sit down and place her on my lap. Her body is stiff at first, not quite yielding into mine, but then itâs as if she relaxes somewhat and she takes the old-fashioned handkerchief I handed her to wipe her mouth.
She stiffens up again as the door opens and Maggie appears with a mop and a bottle of water. With pity in her eyes, she rushes over to us first before holding the bottle out to Jaime.
âThanks, Maggie,â Jaime says softly and takes the bottle. She unscrews the cap and take a deep drink, almost finishing it all. Weâre both quiet while Maggie makes quick work of the mess on the floor and places the book back on the couch. I gently rub Jaimeâs back, and I feel the moment she starts to calm down slowly and relax back into my touch.
âWant to talk about it?â I ask gently when Maggie has left the room and closed the door behind her.
She stares off into the distance for a minute or so before looking at me, but sheâs avoiding my eyes.
âI just had a flashback of what happened⦠a few days ago,â she says quietly, and her heartrate almost spikes up again at the mention of the memory. I keep rubbing her back. Dr Fairfield warned me that she would mentally be a bit vulnerable for a while as she works through the trauma. The important thing was to be supportive, to show love and acceptance despite what she might feel about herself, the attack, or the relationship she has with you.
And maybe she remembered something that will help to identify her attackers.
âWas it anything in particular that triggered the memory, or just random?â I asked, hoping to find out how I can help her through the trauma.
She stares off into the distance again before looking me straight in the eyes.
âIt was something I read about mate bonds.â