I'm His Mate

***Author's Note: 

QUADE

Poetry. Tattoos. Piercings. Sex.

Those were my coping mechanisms. If one failed me, I always had a backup to help me get through the fucking shit show I called life. One would wonder why the Goddess still kept me alive at this point. I had no sense of self preservation. Of course, I knew how to ensure my survival but the emotions that came with self preservation didn't deter me. Pain and fear? Let's just say I had a fucking high threshold for pain and I never felt fear. I would feel anger way before feeling fear.

It all started with poetry. I loved how words could be twisted, bent, molded, and weaved into something special. No one could take that away from me. Poetry could hold hidden messages that only special people understood, messages that weren't for the faint hearted. I was young when I first found a book of poetry. There were many pieces inside, but the ones that I loved most were the ones that held a certain type of depth and pain. If you asked my Beta, he'd probably just say I loved rhyming words but the twat understood close to nothing at times.

Tattoos were next. When poetry couldn't help my fucked up mind, I resorted to something else. Another form of art. This time, instead of speaking my pain through words, I spoke them through images. They always said a picture held a thousand words. Only few understood just how true that statement was. My first tattoo was on my chest, above my heart. A perfectly drawn wolf with Tatum's initials, birth date, and the day I found her dead scripted beneath. She would always live in my heart, my mind, my memories. All my fucking memories, including the day I found her bloodied corps sprawled across our castle's steps.

Piercings came after the tattoos naturally. They said treat your body as a temple but sometimes I wondered if people ever stepped into any religious place. If they did, they would see the depictions on the stain glass windows or walls and the ornaments that provided beauty to the place. It brought me pain, not much but pain I needed and at the end of the day, I just bloody hell loved them. Fuck what everyone else thought.

Sex came last. I hoped to find my mate when I was a boy. Turning into an adult changed my thoughts completely. It were as if the cogs in my head began turning in reverse, undoing everything I wanted as a kid. Naturally, I tattooed over the spot my mate was meant to mark. It was my way of saying 'even if you mark me, no one would know'. I didn't care much for the mate bond and what came with it so I didn't care to save myself for my mate. That was one thing my ignorant Beta and me had in common.

But fuck, we can't always get what we want.

She stepped foot in front of me and almost everything changed. My victim turned out to be my mate. I was left a sputtering fool. And what unfolded after, no one was fucking ready for that — not even me! I ended up wearing her mark, feeling her pain, dying each day along with her. But who the fuck knew that it would be our pain that would bring us together.

We hated one another, an emotion that came far more naturally than love did. But in the mix, in the turmoil, in the pain, we somehow found a light to guide us out of the pit we buried ourselves in. I may not have been the one she had chosen, but she was willing to give her life up for me and I was willing to do that same.

It wasn't me that saved her that day — although she didn't need saving. But it would be me saving her now. It wasn't my choice then but it would be my choice now. Because then, she fucked up and so did I. But now, we managed to untangle the mess we created. I may have been the villain in her story but I proved the words I had uttered to her when we first met.

Morals held heroes back and when you had none, you became the villain. But, the villain would go to any extent to protect what he believed was most valuable to him and I would do the same. Because Sydney Wilde was much more than my mate, an Alpha, or a Queen.

She was what inevitably saved me!