Saira~4

Once we left the Commander's Mansion, I wrenched my hand out of Idris Raed's grip and practically fought not to storm my way back to the mansion. Though it was now dark outside, there were still some Lycans and wolves loitering around. 

I didn't want to become their morning gossip.

"Saira, watch your steps. There are shells in the sand." The bastard I hate called from behind me.

I wondered if this dude had a screw loose. He didn't seem to understand my body language, or the dark expression on my face. The hatred in my eyes could freeze anyone to stone. But it wasn't frosty enough to keep him at bay.

"Saira, slow down. The sand is slippery." He cried out again, sticking to my side with dogged determination that made me grit my teeth so hard, they itched.

Picking up my speed, I tried, like always, to ignore his presence and treat him like air.

And failed miserably.

"Saira, your skirt is dragging on the floor. Be careful not to trip."

"Saira, how is your arm? Is it still hurting? If it is, we can stop by the Clan Hospital before going home."

"Saira..."

At this moment, I couldn't help but feel that even a mosquito would be a more welcome nuisance. This bastard was begging for a beating! A long torturous stroll later, we finally reached the Lycan Heir's mansion.

"Saira, are you o...?"

I whipped my head around so fast, his voice died on a startled gasp.

"Idris Raed, you're irritating! Would it kill you to leave me alone for just one second?" I snarled in his face, then turned and stormed into the mansion. Kicking off my boots, I climbed the stairs two at a time, as if chased by a beast and raced into the main bedroom.

With a deafening bang, I slammed the door shut and sagged against it in exhaustion.

The dinner went shittier than I expected. For starters, I assumed Einas Raed sent the invitation. I thought he was having second thoughts about rejecting me. I presumed he wanted to talk to me, so we could mend our bond.

I never expected the idea to dine together to come from not him, but his chosen mate, Caira Mirza.

Caira, meaning beloved. Was it the reason she won my mate's heart? Because just like my name, I was a wanderer 7 years ago, and I'm still a wanderer 7 years later.

And as if that wasn't bad enough, I had to listen to my mate call me a whore to my face.

"All sluts look the part. How else could they succeed in their seduction?"

"A respectable woman wouldn't parade herself around looking like a whore."

Rage burned in my heart, spreading it fangs like a wildfire, as it threatened to consume my sanity. I needed to get it under control. To prevent it from devouring my reasoning. Pushing myself off the door, I headed to the closet and took out my sewing machine.

I set it up on the only table beside the king-sized bed, and slumped into the chair. With practiced ease, my fingers wove through the threads and I began to sew. The designs came to me without much effort. It was as if they had been sitting on the fringe of my mind, waiting for me to give them shape and form.

He was my mate. I was still determined to win him back. However, there was something feral in me that yearned for blood. 

'Calm down, Saira. Words are only words, as long as you don't give them the power to hurt you.' My wolf, Zaria, cackled in the back of my mind. She was a sadist. The bitch took pleasure in my agony for keeping her confined and suppressed, caged in the back of my mind like the beast she was.

She blamed me. 

For not letting her out. For never shifting and giving her the rein to roam the woods. Hell, some days, I even shut her out for months, to prevent her from influencing me. Our minds were closed to each other, and aside from the occasional bitterness and pain, we never shared our feelings.

She didn't relate to my fears. Didn't understand why I wouldn't shift. As a result, our relationship became as cold and bitter as two enemies out for each other's throats. Occasionally, I would even hear her praying to the Moon Goddess to make my life miserable.

I prayed for the same. For her.

The familiar whirring sound of the machine sung to me, pulling me out of my thoughts. Like always, it worked like a charm. With every thread I stitched, my mind became clear, and the rage slowly flowed from my veins. 

The familiar lyrics that had accompanied me for as long as I could remember spilled from my lips in harmony to the tilting melody.

"I must bear this in mind,

My name will be lost,

My face is gonna change,

I will sound deranged,

But this is my truth.

I must bear this in mind..."

So...my mate hated me. Big deal. It wasn't as if I was smitten with him.

I never cared for his love or adoration to begin with. I didn't need him to feel complete. No, that was a task I could accomplish on my own, by loving myself.

What I cared about was restoring our mate-bond and getting him to accept me for who I was. Only then could I feel at ease.

Tonight's experience had been painful. True. But it gave me a rude awakening. Einas Raed repulsed my very appearance. In his eyes, I was a whore who strung guys along.

For the life of the goddess, I couldn't understand what I've done to give him that impression. We barely met about a month ago. Before then, I had been a studious hermit who dressed like a nun, for fear of sending the wrong signal to the jerks in my pack.

But then again, I didn't give a damn about his twisted reasons.

Okay...maybe a little. But what I cared about more was how to make him see me as someone more than just a pretty face. I wasn't a fool. I could tell the man hated me. So unless I changed his impression of me, there was zero chance of restoring our mate bond.

But I also wasn't one to torment myself by falling in love with a guy who was out to hurt me.

I planned to use tonight's experience to protect my heart. Einas Raed would first have to fall head over heels in love with me, before I would ever give him access to my heart.

Now the question was, how would I make an impression on him and capture his heart?

Right as I was grinding my teeth in vexation, a groan sounded from the door and in strode the bastard I hated with passion.

"Saira."

"Why is it you again?" I snapped, not bothering to hide my annoyance.

"I noticed you didn't eat well, and brought you some snacks." Crossing the room in four giant strides, Idris Raed set a tray of sliced fruits on a corner of my worktable and raised his other hand to display a first-aid box.

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. "You didn't need to bring a first-aid kit. I might be a wolf, but my healing abilities don't lose out to a Lycan." 

"I don't doubt you...just for my assurance...can I check the wound?" He pathetically asked, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

I quirked a brow. If I didn't hate him with passion, I might've considered his flushed cheeks and puppy-dog eyes a little cute. "No, you can't."

"No? Why? Do you hate me that much?"

"Yes, but that's not the only reason. Before my eighteenth birthday, I took a vow to never let anyone but my soulmate to see my skin."

"Huh! You're kidding, right? I mean, what year are we in?"

"No, Lycan Heir. I'm dead serious. So...unless you miraculously become my soulmate, you can forget about seeing my skin in this lifetime."

My answer seemed to surprise him, as he stared at me with incredulous eyes. I ignored his stupefied expression and continued to weave. The colorful creatures of the sea gave me inspiration, and I ended up threading more exquisite details on the sapphire dress than I originally intended.

It came out gorgeous. The blue-green fishes bobbing up and down around the pink and orange corals added a mesmerizing charm to the complex folds of the heavy skirt.

After a period of silence, Idris Raed hesitantly asked. "Then...what if your soulmate never wants you in his life? What will you do then?"

"I don't mind waiting. After all, I've already waited for 4 years. Even if it takes a lifetime, being with him is the only ending I picture."

There was a time in history when the soulmate bond was treated as a sacred gift and blessing from the Moon Goddess. A time when Lycans and wolves waited for decades for the other half of their soul.

But with the passage of time, something changed, and werewolves and lycans began to favor chosen mates over their destined mates. Every she-wolf and she-lycan wanted a rich mate who could provide her with a comfortable life. While every male-wolf and lycan wanted a mate with the wealth to expand his pack.

Strong alphas didn't want rankless she-wolves as their soulmates. Similarly, she-wolves with alpha bloodlines rejected any male-wolves weaker than a Gamma. Occasionally, pairings between wolves of equal strengths did occur. However, some still ended up rejecting each other for pack benefits and territorial feuds.

And of course, there were also the majority who fell in love with someone who wasn't their mate, and marked a chosen mate as their other-half. As of now, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say 75 percent of the mate pairs in the werewolf and Lycan community were chosen mates.

As a rejected mate, I felt quite upset with the way the wolves and Lycan values have changed over the years.

"Saira Malivik, you lack nothing in life. Why? Why would you put yourself through such misery? Can't you find a man who loves you and live in bliss?"

Lost in thought, I forgot about the Lycan beside me until I heard his voice.

Sighing helplessly, I said, "I don't need love. I want acceptance. I'm searching for the one who'll protect me from the shadows."

In my years of growing up, I rarely witnessed soulmates ending up together. But even then, I'd never lost the drive to find my soulmate. Even in my moments of guilt and fear, the hope of meeting him lit like a beam in my heart and kept me from sinking into the pit of darkness.

But the man who rejected me and called me a whore...he wasn't the mate I imagined for myself. He was far from the one I pictured confronting my demons with me.