Just an omega: The Lycan's mate.

My Lycan mate, I am just an omega 1

My name is Yolanda Edwards, and I hail from the fierce moon pack as the youngest daughter of our omega.

In the world of werewolves, omegas are seen as the weakest link, often subjected to scorn and derision for being deemed useless. It's a common refrain: "They should just go live among the humans since they have no value."

As I said, I am Yolanda Edwards, a girl who has yet to awaken her wolf, navigating life in a community that looks down on me not only for my omega lineage but also for being wolf-less at 19. I am a constant target of ridicule within this pack.

Truthfully, I often dream of a life among humans; it would surely be an improvement over my current existence. My father, a heavy drinker, was left by my mother because of his omega status.

My two older sisters, Bria and Blair, are twins who found their mates shortly after transforming into their wolves, blessed by the moon goddess with partners who embraced them fully.

My reality, however, is starkly different. I have never shifted into my wolf, and I can’t even sense her presence; it feels as if she’s a figment of my imagination. To make matters worse, I am without a mate.

High school was a nightmare; I faced relentless bullying, and no one came to my aid. Instead, they reveled in my suffering. Now that I’m in college, the harassment has lessened, but it still lingers, casting a shadow over my days.

Just now, the beta's daughter sneers at me, "Aren't you the one I’m talking to, you brat?" With a swift smack, she strikes me, and heat rushes to my cheeks. Here we go again.

As I sprawled on the cold bathroom floor, their laughter echoed around me. This was a familiar scene, one I had grown accustomed to. Once their jeers faded, they sauntered away, leaving me in solitude. I pushed myself up, straightened my disheveled appearance, and retrieved the powder I had stashed in my pocket, dabbing it onto my flushed cheek.

My reflection in the mirror caught my attention; my sapphire eyes stared back, a striking contrast to the turmoil within. The only redeeming qualities I possessed were my pretty face and figure, but what value did they hold when I felt utterly worthless?

Stepping out of the bathroom, I was met with the sound of giggles from a group of girls. It seemed a young professor from a nearby pack was stepping in for our regular instructor, who was on leave, and he was due to arrive today.

As I lingered by the classroom door, an unexpected scent wafted through the air. I had never been particularly sensitive to smells, so the aroma of mint and earth caught me off guard.

Suddenly, a voice I didn’t recognize shouted 'mate.' Was that me or someone else? I spun around, only to find a pair of piercing red eyes locked onto mine.

In that instant, my heart raced. He was staring at me with an intensity that was both thrilling and terrifying, and I felt an inexplicable attraction pulling me toward him. I quickly turned away and took my seat, trying to focus on the lecture ahead, but thoughts of the mysterious guy lingered in my mind. 'Mate,' the word reverberated in my head.

I looked up just as the substitute professor entered—the very man I had just seen. Our eyes met again, and I hastily averted my gaze. 'Mate,' the word echoed once more; after all this time waiting for you, is this some kind of joke?

My wolf finally spoke up, but instead of feeling joy, I was filled with frustration. I brushed aside her pleas and trudged. I had long since given up on the idea of being a werewolf and all that it entailed; I didn’t need a mate.

I’m content with my current situation. After I graduate from college, I plan to relocate to where the humans are. I know I’ll thrive there.

"The class is about to start." Laughter erupted from my classmates at the sound of my mate's voice. "You in the green sweatshirt, please turn to page six." Green sweatshirt? Is he addressing me? I glanced over, and indeed, he was.

The attractive professor maintained a stoic demeanor that I found difficult to interpret. Reluctantly, I rose to my feet and opened the book to the designated page, hearing the muffled laughter of my classmates. One particular student, Rodney, whom I had a crush on, made a disparaging comment, saying, "Oh, it's pointless, Yolanda." I chose to ignore their remarks, as I had grown accustomed to such behavior.

As I began to read aloud, the classroom fell silent, the book partially obscuring my face. My wolf was incessantly urging me to acknowledge my mate, but I chose to disregard her pleas. Eventually, she ceased her calls and began to whimper, clearly displeased with my indifference.

After I completed the reading, I quickly returned to my seat, still avoiding his gaze, even though I could feel his stare piercing through me. "Thank you, Miss..." he paused, seemingly wanting to know my name. I finally met his eyes and introduced myself, "Yolanda Edwards."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before addressing the class. "I understand you have been informed that I will be your substitute professor. I kindly ask for your cooperation. My name is Alejandro Romero," he announced, prompting giggles from the girls. I sank deeper into my chair, bracing myself for his class.

Throughout the day, I found myself stealing glances at him, despite my insistence that I didn't want him. There was an undeniable pull that drew me to him, and I often caught myself biting my lips. He noticed a few times, but I feigned deep engagement with the class, just like everyone else.

He is truly an impressive man, radiating a powerful presence that commands attention. He is more than just a werewolf; he possesses a strength that is remarkable. It feels unfortunate that he is paired with someone like me, and I can't help but feel sorry for him.

After class, I gathered my books, knowing it was our final session of the day. As he exited the room, I let out a sigh and followed suit. To avoid any unwanted attention, I kept my head down and let my messy hair fall over part of my face, preferring not to see the disdain in others' expressions.