Chapter 6
I made it to my room just in time before pain hit me like a tidal wave. It started simultaneously at my lips and arms before exploding around my abdomen before a throbbing pain hit my pelvis. I had kicked the door behind me before falling on the floor, blocking the only entrance to my soundproof room. Mum had gone out tonight, but my thoughts weren’t with her, but instead with coping with the pain being inflicted on me. My feet and fingers shifted as my body twisted in pain, and I couldn’t help but leave long scratches on the wooden floor as I tried to grasp onto anything for relief.
I’m not sure how long it took for it to be over, but when it was, I was strewn with tears, my hands clasped to the pain in my abdomen.
“Mum!” I tried to call out.
“Help!” but nothing. After a while, I felt a little better and crawled to my ensuite bathroom to hurl what was left of my dinner. Which wasn’t much.
I collapsed on the floor after expelling the last of the liquid from my stomach, crying at the sight. It was red and had a metal smell to it… blood. Exhausted, I lay there, falling asleep on the cold tile.
“Hey Georgie. How was last night?” mum asks when I come downstairs the following morning.
“Alright,” I reply, pulling my shirt sleeves further down my wrists. I had cried at the sight of my body when I saw myself in the mirror this morning. I had deep blue bruises down both my arms, my thighs and my abdomen. I looked like I’d been stoned by the amount of splotches on my body.
“Did you meet your mate?” Mum asks hopefully.
“If I met my mate, do you think I’d wake up alone?” I retort. Mum looks surprised, and I immediately apologise.
“Sorry, mum.”
“It’s okay. You don’t look well, though. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think I had too much aconitum, though. I feel off,” I lie. Aconitum is wolfsbane; it’s lethal to werewolves; however, in small dosages and mixed with alcohol, it gives us the same effect alcohol has on humans. Mum looks at me with sympathy.
“Oh dear. Do you want to stay home today?” Mum asks. I look at her, surprised.
“It’s your first time drinking as a werewolf. Plus, you don’t look good. Why don’t you take today off and recharge? Get yourself back on your feet for the weekend.”
“Sure. I’d like that. Thanks,” I reply, feeling awful for lying to her.
“It’s okay. I’ll see you tonight around six, okay?” Mum asks, kissing my cheek.
“Yeah. See you,” I reply. Mum nods, and I watch her leave the house and drive away in the car.
Slowly, I turned around and headed for my room. I’m exhausted after last night, and I want to shower and head straight to bed.
I wake up still feeling groggy and check the time on my phone. One-oh-five. Mum won’t be home for another five hours, and I have the house to myself. I sit up, winching at the pain of my abdominal muscles. I haven’t felt the onslaught of pain since last night, but the after-effects still hurt. I crawl out of bed and pad over to my study desk, where I open my laptop and turn it on.
I type in Mates and Rejection into the browser. Zero point thirty-six seconds later, and a list of websites comes up with names of books on rejected mates. Fiction. Realising I’m using the wrong search engine, I click out of Chrome and go to Aruna, the search engine for anything subspecies. Again, I type in Mates and Rejection.
Arun-Pedia tells me what I already know about mates… how the soul was split by Zeus in fear that human beings were becoming too strong and how Luna, the goddess of the moon, fell in love with a human, only to have her human turned into a wolf. I read that it is Luna who matches mates to each other from their soul tree, connecting mates from souls linked in our former lives. But this is not the information I want. I know all this. Just like I know the words to say when you choose to reject your mate.
What I’m looking for is the symptoms of rejection. I keep scrolling, almost missing the blue link hidden in the wall of writing. Symptoms.
The word opens to another tab, and I read it, fear and pain resonating from my chest.
Physiological Ramifications of Mate Rejection in Werewolves
The physiological response to the dissolution of a bond between mates in were wolves is inherently complex and challenging to quantify. This challenge stems primarily from the low survival rate observed among separated pairs, with the majority of rejected individuals succumbing to mortality after rejection.
Surviving individuals from such instances may endure profound physical distress should either the rejector or the rejected engage in intimate activities with another, encompassing physical contact, kissing, and sexual intercourse. Manifestations of this distress in the rejected party may include bruising, reflective of the pleasure experienced by their former mate. Additional symptoms may manifest, such as emesis, nausea, vertigo, and syncope. It should be noted that these symptoms may also indicate infidelity within bonded pairs; however, occurrences of such infidelity are infrequent due to the inherent risks and are less severe compared to instances involving rejected individuals.
After rejection, a considerable portion of rejected wolves tend to lapse into a depressive state, often culminating in premature demise. Natural expiration may result from organ failure, characterised by the symptoms mentioned earlier, along with hematemesis, melena, and cognitive impairment. The likelihood of survival for rejected individuals after their former mate’s initiation of relations with another is notably low, estimated at less than fifteen percent.
In cases where the rejected mate faces mortal peril post-rejection, the rejecting wolf undergoes sterility, a phenomenon known as the Sera-Luna effect.
Survival prospects following rejection are somewhat augmented with the position of temporal and spatial separation between the estranged pair. While certain bonds may endure across vast distances, the strength of the bond diminishes proportionally with increased spatial disparity. Should the rejected individual persevere through the initial months post-rejection, the likelihood of survival escalates, albeit without a definitive timeframe.
No definitive remedy for rejection exists in recorded knowledge, although practitioners of the healing arts, particularly Witches, have devised herbal formulations to alleviate the anguish associated with rejection. Prominent botanical remedies for this purpose include Lavender, Kava, and Moonflower. Consultation with a skilled practitioner is imperative for precise dosages tailored to each rejected individual’s unique symptoms.
Occasionally, select rejected werewolves may be bestowed with a ‘Second-Chance mate.’ However, such occurrences are rare and typically arise when the second mate has also experienced a loss through rejection or demise. Rejector wolves, conversely, are not afforded such opportunities for a second chance mate.
I sigh and lean back in my chair when I read that last paragraph. Second-chance mates. I don’t want a second-chance mate if this is what having a mate is like. Not that I’ll probably survive anyway. What are my chances? Fifteen percent? It might increase if I leave, but can I go? No. I have family here. My friends are here. I have a life.
All I have to do is get through this year and next year, I’ll be at the Fraser Academy of Fine Arts, studying music. That’s what I need to think of. That’s my goal.
I’m tired but also incredibly thirsty. I’ve expelled all the liquid I have, which is why I reason I started vomiting blood. Not this organ failure business. I doubt rejection works that quick.
I head downstairs and pour myself a glass of water. For some reason, I don’t feel hungry, and although I don’t feel like another drink, I pour myself another glass. I read somewhere that when you vomit, you lose the water in your system, and you need to refill and hydrate yourself to start feeling better. Or at least I saw it on TV or something. I feel like crap. Simply.
I spend the rest of my afternoon in my room, watching TV on my laptop. Mum calls me when she comes home, and I meet her back in the kitchen.
“Feeling better?” Mum asks.
“A little.”
“What should we have for dinner? Lamb? Chicken?”
“Lamb,” I say, smiling. Lamb chops are my favourite, especially with mashed potatoes, peas and carrots. Yum.
Mum smiles and grabs the meat from the fridge and frozen vegetables out of the freezer. I go to the pantry, take a few potatoes, and begin peeling. As we work, Mum tells me about her day. She tells me about the conversation with Jennifer’s mother, and we both roll our eyes at that woman. Then Mum tells me how Hadley came to see her before training and that she’d call me today or tomorrow. I nod okay but don’t give her much details about my day.
Dinner was quiet, and the food was yummy. Mum asked if I wanted to watch a movie with her after the dishes, but I told her I was still exhausted and headed back to bed. I can’t believe how taxing preparing that meal was.
I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
I woke up the next morning on my bathroom floor. Last night was another battle of pain throughout my body, followed by hurling the contents of my dinner in the toilet. Which was then followed by vomiting blood. My chin feels crusty, and dark red flakes fly into the air as I scratch it. Fuck.
Slowly, I crawl into the shower cubicle, resting my back on the cold tile wall. I sit there for what seems like a long time until I build the strength to reach up and twist the handle to turn the water on.
It came too late when I realised I was still dressed. But I don’t care as the water flows down my face and wets my clothes. I close my eyes, the heaviness of sleep taking me under.
When I wake for the second time, my clothes are completely drenched, and the water is cold. I’m not well. I’m not healthy. But I have to… I have to move. I have to show my face. Slowly, I peel my wet clothes off and throw them outside the shower in a damp pile. I don’t care that the water is cold, and I am grateful I leave my shampoo and body cleansing bottles on the floor. I’m still tired as I clean myself, but I feel better now than I did.
“Hey, sweetheart. Did you sleep in?” Mum asks when I finally reach the bottom floor.
“Hmm. You look sick, which isn’t right…” Mum says, placing the back of her hand on my forehead.
“I think I should take you to the pack doctor,” mum muses.
“No, I’m fine,” I protest, batting her hand off me and flinching away.
“If you’re sure…”
“Yeah, mum, I’m fine. I must be allergic to wolfsbane or something,” I say.
“Aren’t we all,” Mum states.
“So, what’s your plan today?” Mum asks.
“I’m going to play the violin today; I need to practice my Caprice number five. There are some bits in the middle I need to work on,” I admit.
“I don’t like that piece,” Mum replies. I nod.
“I know. I’ll make sure to close the door!” I call out as I walk to my room.
I practice a little bit when my phone beeps and I check my messages. Hadley.
“Hey, tart. Coming out tonight? They’re hosting another drinks thing at the pack house for the Deltas,” Hadley texts. I smile. Hadley is training to be a Delta and spends her Saturdays at the pack house training with other teens her age. Being in her senior year at school, she’s now invited to all the gatherings the Deltas have. Being her best friend, I get asked to come as well.
“No. Still not feeling well,” I text back.
“Not even if I tell you those new recruits would be there?”
“Sorry. Not even for them,” I reply. Especially not for them.
“Sure?”
“Yup. Enjoy yourself.”
“Boo hoo. You’re no fun. I’ll call you later,” Hadley ends. I grimace and throw my phone back onto my bed. I was hoping for a night of respite, but I probably won’t get it if they’re hosting drinks again. That thought fills me with dread, and I sit on the end of my bed, trying not to panic and breathe normally. Tears run down my face. I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I don’t know how I’ll survive. I’m already vomiting blood, and what if it’s true? What if this is a sign of organ failure? I feel weak and tired… and I can’t do this anymore. No wonder rejected mates run away… or do the other thing. My ex-mate, I think he’s killing me!
I pull my knees up to my chest and cry.
Mum came home at three, and I joined her to put the groceries away. Usually, I go with her to the pack house while she tutors pack members in music, but today, she left me at home.
“How was it?” I asked Mum, who shrugged.
“I wish he’d come home,” Mum says sorrowfully. I put down what I’m holding and give Mum a hug. Saturdays are our days. We would go to the pack house where Mum taught Saturday school music to pack members, and Dad would be with the Deltas training. Then, we would meet for lunch and go grocery shopping. But this is the third weekend Dad’s been away.
“Do you know when he’s coming back?” I ask.
“He’s leaving tomorrow, so he’ll be back Monday,” Mum smiles through her tears. I nod. Dad will be home soon, and I can’t wait to see him either.
I decided to spend the night with Mum, one because she was upset about Dad and two because I wanted to pretend I was alright. This meant I ate popcorn and lollies with gusto, even though I knew they would probably end up in the toilet by morning.
I was right. The pain was excruciating this time, and thick, long bruises covered my old ones, which were slowly turning brown. I thanked the goddess for soundproof walls because I couldn’t hold back my screams, or my ripping through my mattress with my teeth as I fought to block the pain. I had no time to contemplate the mess of my shredded sheets as I ran to the toilet and vomited everything from my stomach, which was worse because the steak I had eaten for dinner hadn’t fully digested and came up my oesophagus in scratchy chunks. At least, I hope it was the beef.
I seemed to have a little more energy this morning, throwing my tattered sheets in the laundry hamper and turning my mattress over before Mum came out of her room.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Mum smiled as she caught me taking new linen from the cupboard.
“Hi, mum.”
“Changing your sheets today?”
“Yeah,” I reply softly. Mum nods, happy with my answer.
After changing my bedding and dressing for the day, I came down for breakfast.
“Hey, sweetheart. What are your plans for the day?” Mum asks.
“I’m going to go for a run. Pandora wants out,” I admit. Mum pouts.
“I was hoping you would help me clean…”
“Mum… we have a cleaner come in on Wednesdays…” I laugh.
“Yeah, but I wanted to make the place nice for your dad when he returns.”
I grimace when I think of how nice Mum would make coming home for Dad.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, tell me.”
“I was just thinking you don’t need to make things look nice for him. He’ll only have eyes for you,” I reply, making Mum blush.
“Go. Off with you. Cheeky child!”
“Right. Will do!” I laugh, avoiding Mum’s swatting at me.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better today, sweetheart,” Mum smiles. I nod. I’m not feeling better; I just want an excuse to get out of the house, so Mum can’t bug me about feeling ill.
I grab my backpack and fill it with a hat, sandwich, and water bottle before heading off.
“See ya, mum,” I say, finding her in the laundry and putting water in the steam mop.
“Bye, sweetheart, have fun,” Mum says, giving me a hug.
“Are you okay?” Mum asks when I wince.
“Yup, fine.”
“Are you sure?” Mum asks. I nod, trying to keep my tears at bay.
“I’m sure, mum. Very sure,” I reply. I wave her goodbye and then head outside.
My phone rings as I head off down the road. I smile when I see that it’s Hadley.
“Hey, babe,” I answer.
“Hey, tart! How are you?”
“I’m okay. Not as good as you, by the sounds of it,” I smile.
“Oh! You have no idea! Guess what I did last night?”
“What?”
“I slept with Conner Bradford!”
I stop walking and move the phone from my ear, shocked at what I hear.
“Georgie! Georgie! Say something!” I hear Hadley from the phone. I put my phone back towards my ear, not noticing the tears running down my face.
“Yeah. Sorry. Wow, I mean… he was…”
“Pretty hot, right? I know. My goddess, all the girls flocked to him last night, but he only had eyes for me! He has this way of making you feel so special, you know?” Hadley gushes. I silently listen while she regales her encounter with Conner last night, humming and agreeing at all the right places.
“Oh, my goddess, Georgie, he was the best I’ve ever had,” Hadley sighs.
“I think I’m in love,” she adds when I don’t reply. I’m glad she can’t see me. I’m so happy she can’t see the pain written all over my face.
“I can’t wait to tell Tara and the others. Well, I think Tara knows… she was there last night. Anyway, I’ll see you at school tomorrow?” Hadley asks.
“Yeah, I’ll see you at school,” I reply softly.
“I’m going to call Frances now and let her know! Bye, Georgie!” Hadley squeals. She hangs up before I finish saying goodbye to her.
My goddess. The worst pain I felt was because my mate was having sex with my best friend last night. I don’t know how I can deal with this. I sniff and wipe my face, forcing myself not to cry anymore, at least not until I get into the forest.
I head down the hill towards the trees. The suburb I live in sits right by Swan Valley Forest, which has been cut back over the years to provide more housing for the growing citizens. My house is one of the older ones in this suburb, so the trip to the forest is about a twenty-minute walk on foot. I look around before entering when I get to the edge of the trees.
Even though I can’t sense anyone around me, the scent trails I can identify being old, I still hide behind a tree to strip out my clothes. As werewolves, being naked should be easy… but this is the first time I’ve shifted since I turned eighteen, and although I did that in front of family (which still makes me quiver when I think about it), I’m too shy to just drop my daks and shift.
Quickly, I fold my clothes and put them in my backpack before zipping it up. I think about my wolf form, and after about thirty minutes of pain, I’m standing on all fours.
“Let’s go,” I tell Pandora. She nods, picks up the bag handle with her mouth, and we’re off.
