(Asher)
Depending on the beautiful shit life tends to throw at us, I've successfully summed up and categorized them into subcategories. When life throws the good shit at us, feeble, minute creatures, I call it fortune. Sometimes miracles, or straight up luck. When life throws the bad shit at us that makes us want to end it all, or figure what the fuck we did wrong, I call it misfortune or a curse, or the Goddess having a good laugh with her twisted sense of humour.
Jace Conner's previous situation is what I'd call a misfortune, having been diagnosed with a tumour in his brain that was slowly killing him, Jace had to quit the basketball team when it started affecting his ability to perform. His grades dropped, he lost friends because they were some superficial fucks which is partly the reason Jace never told them about the reason he quit the team in the first place. Jace used to be human, and his mate, is Sky Daniels, our pack's third-in-command.
Push came to shove, Jace was dying and Sky had to make a decision. We should all be grateful that Sky's a motherfucking beast when it comes to his werewolf strength, size, dominance, power, healing enzymes and all that shit. His enzymes when injected into Jace's blood stream through his engagement mark was enough to stabilize Jace that he was discharged from the hospital and able to mate with Sky.
Remember what I said about how Jace used to be human? Remember how I mentioned Sky's pretty much a fucking beast? Well; about a week or two after they mated, Jace went into transition; and he became a full-fledged werewolf with a beautiful dark blonde pelt with speckles of black and deep brown. Human mates in the werewolf world are not prohibited nor are they deemed taboo. They happen. Just not as often; and a transition taking place is even less likely to occur.
But it happened.
Jace Conner's story is a tale of a boy who went from living misfortune to straight up fucking miracles. And trust me, no one is happier than I am that Jace survived and Sky was able to step up to his position as Marcana's third-in-command. Personally, I love my station as fourth-in-command. I'm a warrior wolf, and I don't have to deal with the boring administrative logistics that come with being leader.
And that's pretty much where everything goes to fucking shit for me.
I've found my mate. And I fucking hate him.
I know nothing of him, other than his name, he's new in town, his position in his pack and he's a fucking asshole. His name is Jaxon West, and he's the beta of his pack. A pack which I care naught to acknowledge, because simply, I wish he'd just vanish.
Werewolves find their mates at the age of sixteen or in a better sense then, their ability to seek out their mate is activated and even over a great distance, they can feel the pull of the mate bond, a sign that somewhere out there, your chosen one awaits your arrival or is searching for you. However, legally, by werewolf law, we're not allowed to mate to until we're eighteen or given permission by the alpha for whatever reasons like what happened between Jace and Sky.
I had first felt the mating bond grow stronger with the arrival of new wolves into our town, one of which I met not very long after since he was my age and therefore, attended the same school as myself, the three prominent future leaders of my pack and their mates. There's a private academy for werewolves but not all packs believe in sending their children to live halfway across country for almost nine months out of the year. So, we just went to the local high school.
Anyway, I'd first met him in my English class and the look on his face when he saw me and realized we were mates was by far the most hilarious thing I've had the pleasure of seeing. He was so confused with the way his brows and nose wrinkled, and the way his lips curled. He was confused because while he knew I was a werewolf, my hair threw him off.
By pack and werewolf standards, I am a submissive werewolf. Wolves like me are usually stuck within the five-foot range never growing taller than five eight. I'm one of the few lucky sub bastards who managed to reach five eight, and that was fucking tall for the average submissive. Most subs were between five nothing and five-five. We had lighter coloured hair ranging from white blonde to light brown. It was rare to come across a sub so pure to have white hair even in human form.
Naturally, my hair was bleach blonde and my eyes were a brilliant shade of hazel brown. But, I hated the colour of my hair, so I'd dyed it black with golden highlights. So naturally, my mate was confused since I had the typical slender body of a sub, small frame and build with the average height. But unlike other subs at Marcana, I was one percent of that small fraction of subs who were treated and respected as dominants were. That is, equals, and not having dominants hound us to make sure we never got hurt.
Which, contrary to the way my pack treated subs, most other wolf packs tended to frown upon their subs and see them as incapable of standing equal to their dominants. What disgusted me more, was that some subs liked to be viewed that way as their parents drilled it into them from an early age that their dominant mate would take care of them.
Not throwing shade here, but Laken, the future alpha's mate was exactly like that. Sheltered and protected all his life by both his parents, Laken was severely bullied at school, but after things turned around in his favour and he learned that Dale was his mate, his life got infinitely better, and he just did whatever Dale wanted.
Because whatever Dale wanted, Laken wanted. It was like he had no mind of his own and the inability to form thoughts and ideas that weren't Dale's. And it pissed me off that Laken wasn't even mildly irritated at being so controlled given his history with bullies. Dale may not be a bully, but as a future alpha, he was naturally dominating and controlling, and bullies craved control over others.
He was the type of sub my parents literally kicked my ass for not to stray from the path. My parents were pack warriors, the fourth-in-command family. We protected those subs and wolves who couldn't defend themselves until the alpha called upon us to fight on the front lines. My parents didn't want me to protect subs and old people. They wanted me to be out on the front lines, fighting alongside other dominants and the three prominent leaders of the pack.
Were they harsh about it?
Absolutely.
Did they mean well?
They most certainly fucking did.
Was I okay with it?
I'm the one who wanted it.
All my life, my closest friends were dominants, and not just any dominant guy. They were the three future prominent leaders of the pack, and because I often lived and played more dangerously than other subs, they often made fun of me for it. I remember the day it all changed for me. I was about six or seven and because my parents were the best pack warriors, Isaiah had requested my parents bring me to Dale's seventh birthday party.
They were roughhousing and because I am a sub, they refused to let me play. And even when they did, I was always on the side lines, or the 'damsel in distress' they had to rescue. And that day, I'd just had enough of being saved and sitting on the side lines. In a fit of frustration, I'd screamed at Dale, Carter and Sky, broken their damned toys and ran back to my home in a fit of tears.
When my parents had cornered me about it, I'd told them exactly what I felt. I didn't want to be saved. I didn't want to depend on other people. I hated being made fun of, by both subs and dominants who were supposed to be my friends. Made fun of because I refused to accept my rank as sub and just let people walk all over me; I fought back. I hated being viewed a weakling because I am a sub. I wanted to be stronger. I hated being looked down on, or in fact, hounded every five seconds.
Even adults hounded me. At Dale's birthday party that year, I'd been getting some tuna sandwiches from the buffet table and Isaiah was insistent that he help me because I was short and so small that I couldn't really reach the sandwiches. He said he was afraid I'd hurt myself and my parents would retaliate against him and he didn't want to cause a commotion that would make a stain on his son's birthday. But I was damn well doing fine finding another way, what with a chair I'd dragged over to the table and gotten them.
In your face, Isaiah!
So, from that day, my training had begun. My parents no longer treated me like a sub. They treated me like a son. They taught me everything they knew and turned me into the best warrior wolf I could be. And today, I could single handedly kick just about anyone's ass, with my speed, agility, stamina and lithe frame.
I needed no saving because I could save myself. And I sure as hell didn't need a dominant to save me.
Which brings me back to my mate, Jaxon West. He was like a lot of dominants at Marcana, hot-headed, and felt like they were the centre of the universe and everyone was supposed to suck up to them and lick their fucking asses.
They may seem like good people, and truly, when it comes to pack decisions, they truly were good at their jobs, but even sometimes, Dale, Carter and Sky let their egos and influence get the best of them.
And Jaxon West, beta of What's That Fucking Pack, was just like that. Except, he went a step further. He thought he could have anyone he wanted because he was good looking, powerful, strong, dominating and 'charming', whatever the fuck that means.
But no, he was self-absorbed, arrogant, inconsiderate, naïve and kind of stupid. How he passed as beta will always be a mystery to me.
I hated him. And my hate only deepened when he had the balls to completely disregard the fact that we were mates, and flirt with Jace openly. Even though the look on Jace's face then wished him good and dead.
After blatantly flirting with Jace in front of me, without the slightest consideration of maybe rejecting me, he pursued Jace and challenged Sky for him. I mean, I could've rejected Jaxon myself, but why the fuck should I do that? He's an asshole, and the last thing I would ever want to do, is cater to some dominant's ego.
He'd probably get the idea that I liked him and couldn't stand the sight of seeing him flirt with anyone else. And because I was a rebellious bastard who despite taking my job as pack warrior seriously, I had a nasty habit of doing the opposite of what people thought, said and wanted.
Just ask Isaiah.
Ask my parents.
Ask Jace.
Anyways, so during the fight of dominance that had taken place between Sky and Jaxon, where the winner gets Jace, said wolf in transition completed the transition and became a werewolf.
Woof! Woof!
Howl! Howl!
And now, after having had his ass handed to him when he provoked Sky during the fight, Jaxon hasn't once looked their way. But, he's looked my way multiple times.
Unfortunately, now I must be in the same room with Jaxon. This was detention, and might you ask why I, Asher Stone, is going to detention?
I beat up an asshole for beating on a little gay freshman.
Problem?
I fucking thought so. Anywhore, I walk into detention and the first thing I see is not Jaxon fucking West, thank the motherfucking Moon Goddess for that. But I did see the person who landed me in this mess in the first place.
Brent Harper.
Jace's ex-best friend, now worst enemy. He'd booted the guy out of his spot in the social pyramid and claimed the throne as the school's king when Jace was diagnosed with a tumour in his brain and had treated Jace like a social outcast. Even more reason I'm glad Jace never told the shit what was truly happening.
Plus, he's a homophobe which led him to beating on the little freshman who was sitting on the other end of the classroom trying his best to do his homework and resist the urge to squirm under the death glare Brent was shooting him.
Upon my entry, Brent met my gaze and flipped me off. One I returned eagerly with a smug smirk. And a few rows down, was Jaxon West. Why was he in here?
I'll tell you why. He was one of the guys who'd intervened in the fight to separate us, and he'd managed to grab a hold of me and kept me clutched tightly to his chest, his arms wrapped around me. While he could've escaped detention, Brent had involved him in the fight by shoving me and in turn, Jaxon as well. And then Jaxon suddenly needed to take a chill pill.
Jaxon wasn't here alone though. He was busy in a lip lock with some skank I didn't care to know about, other than I knew she was on the cheerleading squad. As if sensing my presence, Jaxon glanced up and away from the brunette he was sucking face with to smirk at me. I curled my lips resisting the strong urge to gag.
What was this? Some cheesy teen fiction novel?
I rolled my eyes, turning to face the freshman who sat quietly by himself, his eyes locked onto his notebook as he scribbled furiously. I approached him, and he timidly looked up at me when he noticed that I hovered over him. He was adorable himself for a human with platinum blonde hair that looked silky soft to the touch, pale skin with a few tiny moles, one near his eye, two smaller ones on his left cheek; thin pink lips and chocolate brown eyes. On his right cheek closer to his eye was a bruise and some swelling indicating where Brent had hurt him.
He was dressed in a comfy, loose gray sweatshirt with the Lazy Cat drawing on it, a picture of it meowing in content. The sleeves came down over his knuckles making him look like a cute little ball of gray fluff, and to finish off his attire, he wore black skinny jeans.
"Mind if I sit with you?" I arched a brow and he timidly shook his head, motioning for me to sit near him. I thanked him with a smile and pulled the desk-chair from the next column closer to him. I plopped down in my seat and flipped my binder open, picking up my pencil and tapping it against the page a few times, my other arm draped atop my head before I glanced to him out the corner of my eye.
"I'm Asher, by the way." I offered making the boy turn his head to look at me and give me a shy smile.
"Sylvester. But I usually just go by Syl." he replied, and I nodded and then arched a brow. I leaned forward closer to him. The teacher for detention had yet to arrive and most times, there was no teacher who stayed in the classroom. But they did check in every few minutes to make sure we stayed put.
"Don't mind me asking, but you seem pretty shy and quiet. Why was Brent hurting you?" I queried, and he blushed, looking down and fiddling with his thumbs.
"He found out I'm gay." I just frowned, pursing my lips.
"Again, you're pretty quiet. So, how did he find out?" Syl blushed again and tucked his shoulders.
"I have a crush on one of his friends..." he admitted, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Who the fuck could he possibly have a crush on, and why one of Brent's friends? They were all assholes. "I guess I wasn't very careful about it. I tried to hide it...but I don't know...he's...he's nice to look at. I guess Brent figured it out." he tacked on, and I glanced over to Brent who was now glaring at both of us.
I rolled my eyes. "Hey, Brent?" I called, and his glare intensified. "Do me favour and fuck off, will you?" I tacked on, and he stiffened, his nostrils flaring angrily. I heard snickers come from behind me, and yeah, no surprise they found my potty mouth hilarious. I wasn't one to usually sugar-coat my words.
"What the fuck did you say, slut?" Oh right, like me having only ever slept with two people in all my life makes me a slut when he's slutting it up every girl in school? Pretty sure that this bastard's slept with half our school and our enemy school.
I smirked. "Watch it, slut-bag. I got dirt on you, and you heard me." Brent stiffened again, before he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "And if you keep glaring at us like that, I'll stab your eyeball out with my pencil." I threatened, just wanting to see him tick, and sure enough, he was on his feet and stalking toward us like predator to prey.
I got to my feet just in time before he grabbed me up by the front of my shirt and shoved me up against the tables making it shift and scrape against the floor from under my weight. Someone screamed, and I figured it was that girl who was making out with Jaxon. Syl was also on his feet and was pleading with Brent not to fight me. The edge of the table bit into my back, but it was hardly anything.
"You better watch your mouth, you shit!"
"Oh no, so scared!" I chided, wriggling my shoulders, smirking when I saw the hatred he felt for me flare in his eyes.
Want to why Brent hates me so?
He's in the closet and had confessed to me freshman year but I shot his ass down. And he's hated me ever since.
He raised his fist moving to punch me, but he never got the chance as someone grabbed his fist and yanked him away from me. Glancing over to the person, imagine my shock to find Jaxon standing there menacingly almost as if he were daring Brent to make a move.
He stood with his back to me as he continued to glare down his nose at Brent, who only growled in anger when he caught my gloating smirk over Jaxon's shoulder. I stuck my tongue out at him, and he reacted charging forth. But Jaxon was there, yet again, to save the day as he grabbed hold of Brent and threw him. Brent slammed into the closest desk-chair shoving it back two rows as he fell onto his ass in a pathetic pile of shit.
"Stay down, Harper." Jaxon commanded in his beta voice, one that made my body react shamefully to him. And I hated myself for it. But it quickly dissipated as I remembered why I hated his guy in the first place. And now that I looked around, Jaxon's whore had fled the room, probably to go find an authority figure. Jaxon pinned Brent with a menacing glare. "If you ever come near Asher or his friend again," he flicked his thumb in Syl's direction, making the kid's eyes widen in surprise, probably that someone like Jaxon was sticking up for him, "I'll introduce you to a world of pain."
Brent gritted his teeth but didn't attack. Instead, he stumbled to his feet, sucked up his pride and went back to his seat in the corner to sulk and lick at his bruised ego. And then, Jaxon turned to me, concern flitting across his features. His brows knitted together, and his blue eyes becoming soft.
"Are you alright?" he asked, reaching to touch my face, his fingertips just barely grazing the skin of my cheek in a caress that sent small sparks of electricity flooding into my body which was a result of our mate bond. I scoffed, unfolding my arms and batting his hand away.
"Don't pretend you care, West. Why don't you go back to your slut." It wasn't a question. It was a suggestion, and I highly recommended he take it because if he was expecting to get a 'thank you' from me, then he'd be sorely disappointed.
But I think Jaxon knew I didn't kiss anyone's ass.
I turned, and stepped out of his way, righting the desks before plopping down in my seat next to Syl. The freshman looked uncomfortable now as he glanced between Jaxon and me.
"Why do you always do this? Get in trouble and then act this way whenever I help you?" he questioned, and I glanced up at him, giving him my best 'are you fucking serious' glare, but the look on his face said he was genuinely curious about my behaviour and wanted to know.
Like he fucking deserved to know!
"I didn't ask for your help." I said, then stood abruptly, stepping closer to him. "And you want to know why I act this way?" I asked, and he nodded quietly that look of genuine curiosity still housed on his features and it pissed me off to no end. "Because I hate you, that's why." With that, I twirled, grabbing up my binder and pencil, ignoring the twitch of my eye and also avoiding Jaxon's stare. "Let's go, Syl." I ordered.
"B-But-"
"You wanna stay here with that piece of shit?" I demanded angrily, gesturing my thumb in Brent's direction, and Syl became visibly terrified of the thought, his adorable brown eyes going wide and he shook his head vigorously. "Good, let's get out of here before I get another day in detention for fighting Blue Eyes over there." I tacked on, though I knew that even if I gave into my desire to physically hurt Jaxon, he probably wouldn't do anything to stop me. He'd probably just stand there and take it all, including every harsh word I spat at him.
That was the thing I couldn't understand about our situation. I couldn't say relationship, because it'd have to be freezing at the equator before that ever happened. Jaxon went out of his way to let me know he didn't want me, always hooking up with different guys and girls, flaunting them, and kissing and hugging on them where I can see him. But the moment something happens that puts me in even the slightest danger he comes running to me, acting as if he cares about what happens to me.
Which I know he doesn't.
He's just playing me, like the player he is. But I'm not stupid. I know better than to fall for someone like him. Even if he is my mate, I won't cave in even if I am affected by the way his eyes sadden and his shoulders slump every time I say something harsh to him. Even if my body reacts to him in ways I wish it wouldn't.
Ignoring the pain in those sapphire orbs, I stormed out of the room with Syl following me. Part of me wanted to go back in there, and just hold onto Jaxon until the pain in his eyes faded away, but unfortunately for him, my dislike for him outweighed destiny's desire.
Instead, I walked with Syl to the bus stop. Our walk was mostly quiet and even though the silence between us was awkward, I chose to ignore it, occupying myself with focusing on the path ahead. Every few moments, my eyes would drift to Syl, and I could tell he desperately wanted to ask me something, probably about Jaxon, given the way he clutched at his bag straps and nibbled his bottom lip.
"You know," I started, "if you keep nibbling your lip like that, you'll make it bleed." He stopped, only to pout. He glanced up at me, and when he noticed I was watching him, he quickly glanced down to the pavement. I breathed an exhausted breath. "Go ahead. Ask."
Syl blinked up at me, with confused brown orbs. "Whatever it is that you want to ask me. Go ahead. I'll answer to the best of my ability." I tacked on sarcastically giving a smile, but Syl glanced back to down, nibbling on his lip again before he met my gaze.
"About Jaxon..." he began, looking uncomfortable about the whole idea of the conversation, but I gave him the patience of a saint as I waited for him to continue, "why do you hate him so much?" Syl looked up to me with expectant brown eyes, and I glanced up ahead.
"It's complicated." I answered, hoping that would be enough. But unfortunately, it wasn't as Syl followed up with another question.
"Well...can't you uncomplicate it?" I smiled at his child-like view.
"Some things aren't that simple, Syl." he frowned, cocking his head as he pouted.
"Because you like him too?" I blinked, arching a brow.
"What gave you that idea?" Syl shrugged his shoulders in an adorable fashion.
"You have a tell when you lie." I arched a brow, and he continued, giving me a small smile. "Your left brow twitches when you lie." he pointed to my face to emphasize his point. I shook my head.
"It doesn't." I lied, grimacing when I felt that familiar muscle jump in my face, and Syl chuckled.
"There it is. That's how I know you're lying about Jaxon. I saw you twitch when you said you hated him. Maybe you won't tell me why, and that's okay. But don't lie to yourself. Even if you don't like him, you care for him. And he feels the same."
I hummed in response, and the rest of our walk to the bus stop was silent. The bus arrived shortly after, and we got on. Even though we sat together, we didn't speak and Syl made no attempt to begin a conversation.
Syl was certainly wiser than he looked. His small speech about Jaxon had caught me off guard, even if I didn't show it. And I wondered briefly, if maybe Syl was right about Jaxon and me.
Did I care for Jaxon?
Did he care for me?
I don't know what the feelings were on his half, but for me, it was nothing more than a strong dislike. So strong, it could pass as hate.
Things were complicated between us as it was. There was no need to throw feelings into the mix.