Page 19 of Rejecting his Mate

Klaus releases my hand. There is a white circle spray-painted over the grass, and I’m positioned in the middle of it. My toes dig into the earth beneath me, the grass cool against the soles of my feet. I try not to focus on the eyes watching me. I try not to crack under their gazes.

Strength. I have to show it.

And I am strong because of my legacy and because of my blood.

I wait as Klaus steps forward with our beta male, Alaric. Like Klaus, he is a huge man with thick muscular arms and a full beard. He watches me for a moment as if weighing up my worth before he turns to our alpha to begin the ceremony.

I barely listen as they speak strange, foreign-sounding words that make no sense to me. I know it is the language of magic, but I neither speak it nor understand it.

Warmth spreads inside my chest as Klaus pulls an athame, a dagger infused with magic, from his belt andslices his fingertip. He passes it to Alaric, who does the same. They drip it onto the ground within the circle.

As soon as it hits the grass, my body twitches.

What the hell?

It happens again, this time more viciously. My wolf starts to pace, getting restless as my back twists to an impossible angle. Pain explodes through me. My spine feels like it’s being torn in two. I try to hold back my cry, but it erupts from my mouth. I drop to my hands and knees, thrusting my fingers into the grass as my legs twist and crack. Every inch of my body is in agony as my wolf is forced to come to the forefront.

She is baying, her muzzle raised as she howls.

My skin heats until I am burning from the inside out. My eyes water as my bones continue to shift and break. The agony of it almost makes me pass out. I wish I would.

Screams fill the air, macabre, ear-piercing sounds.

They are my screams, I realize.

I’m dying.

I don’t know how I’m going to survive this. How does any wolf?

The back of my dress is now torn, but I barely notice or care that I’m exposed to my pack. My body continues to fracture and splinter, twitching and thrashing as my wolf fights to surface.

She’s close.

I can feel her struggling to get through the barrier between us, one that should have lowered by now.

I sob with the pain. I can’t stand it. I feel like I’m being cleaved in half. Clawing desperately at the ground,dirt sliding under my nails, I whimper and cry, my throat feeling like I’ve swallowed blades. My back bows, and I sob as my hips dislocate.

It goes on and on, over and over, but something is wrong. It’s as if there is a block, stopping my wolf from getting through. My body breaks and cracks, but I don’t shift.

Voices reach me, worried ones, but all I can focus on is the agony tearing through me.

Why isn’t she breaking free?

Why is she not changing?

It’s torture, but I can’t do anything but endure it.

Then the pain dissipates. Everything feels sore and achy. I collapse into the grass, breathing heavily. My lungs burn with every inhalation, and I feel sick to my stomach.

“She didn’t shift,” a voice says from behind me.

Alaric, I think.

I open my eyes and look across the grass. My pack is on their feet, some with their hands pressed to their mouths, others standing in silence. Their shock is clear, and it makes my own heart thud in my chest. Kyle is staring at me with horror while Ellie looks stunned.

I am a Beauford.

This kind of defect shouldn’t be possible.

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