Chapter 1: The Mating Ceremony 1

In the distant and secluded land of Hayden, where werewolves roam and legends come to life, the day every eligible Werewolf had been awaiting had finally arrived: the day of the Mating Ceremony.

Natasha sprang up from her bed, a gleeful smile on her face. She hurriedly opened the window curtains, allowing the sunlight to enter the room. "Today is the day I find my mate," she said, looking out the window into the morning atmosphere.

To be completely honest with herself, this wasn't the first, nor the second time she had said the same thing. She had done so on this very day every single year for the past three years. Ever since she turned eighteen, the age every Werewolf in Hayden was supposed to meet their mate, Natasha had dreaded every other day but spent every waking second looking forward to this one—the day of the mating ceremony.

Natasha was a wolf-less and mate-less half-breed. Before her, nobody thought such a disgraceful description of a person could exist: a twenty-one-year-old half-breed who still hadn't shifted and was without a mate. She was the absolute worst in Hayden Society.

Natasha could excuse being a half-breed as not her fault, given the fact that she didn't give birth to herself. Her mother was one of the most glorified werewolves in Hayden—at least she used to be, until she got mated to a human, an abomination in Hayden's eyes. She was insulted and regarded as a disgrace for being mated to a human, to the point where she had to leave Hayden to be with him. Seven years later, after her mother's tragic passing, Natasha had to return to Hayden.

When she was younger, Natasha used to think her mother's fate was worse, but not being able to shift (which was normal for every Werewolf at the age of fourteen) and not finding her mate (which was supposed to happen at eighteen) proved her wrong. At least her mother could shift and have a mate, even though he was a human one. In Natasha's case, it was as though she wasn't even one of them, since she had no way of proving it—a mate-less and wolf-less Werewolf, what a joke. She often thought of herself this way, as she had heard people say behind closed curtains and even to her face.

Natasha was treated and looked upon as less, a misfit in Hayden Society, to the point where she started feeling the same about herself—except for today. The mating ceremony gave her a sense of hope. She knew that if she could just find her mate, all her life problems would be solved. She would no longer be mate-less and hopefully would be able to shift, but most importantly, she would find the person with whom her heart, mind, and soul were intertwined.

She looked at the portrait of her mother hanging on the side of her bed and smiled with watery eyes. "Today is the day, Mom. Today is the day I find my mate," she said.

A knock on her door interrupted her soliloquy. "Who's there? Come in," she said, recomposing herself.

It was her grandfather, Algernon Thorne, the oldest Werewolf and the first and only hybrid Werewolf—a living legend and the shadow Natasha remained under. "Good morning, pumpkin," he said as he walked into the room.

"Grandpa, today is the day, it's finally here," she spoke, filled with excitement. "I know this is like my third time, but I have a feeling about this one. I feel, no, I know that today is the day I will meet my mate," she said.

"Well, that's..." Algernon hesitated, unable to complete his statement. He didn't want to feed Natasha's hopes for a deluded dream.

"That's why I came up here to see you."

"Don't keep me in suspense then," Natasha said, curious yet still excited.

"Okay, but how about this: come downstairs when you're finished up here. There's someone I want you to meet," he said.

"Okay."

"Good, see you soon," Algernon said, leaving the room. Natasha returned her gaze to her portrait and smiled. She had a really good feeling about today. "Just like you used to say, Mom, third time's the charm," she said. She then removed her night robe and went into the bathroom to prepare herself for the guest downstairs.

...

Natasha hurried down the stairs and into the living room. "Grandpa, I..." She paused as she saw a man of roughly fifty seated with her grandfather. She then remembered why she had been summoned down in the first place.

Who was this man? Was he the person her uncle wanted her to meet? If so, why? These questions flooded her mind as she halted. For some reason, his presence and the atmosphere in the room made her feel uneasy.

"Natasha, come, sit," Algernon ushered her to take a seat.

"This is Alpha Jerome, Alpha of the Thunder Claw Pack and a member of the Alpha Council," he said.

Natasha bowed her head slightly as a sign of respect. She tried to exchange pleasantries, but the growing unease in her made her keep her mouth shut.

"Blessed be the moon goddess for such a damsel," the man showered flattery on Natasha. He turned to Algernon and said, "Don't worry, Your Grace. I will take good care of her."

Instantly, Natasha's eyes widened, and her head spun in circles. "Grandpa, what is he talking about?" she asked urgently and with confusion.

Algernon bowed his head, struggling to find the right words to break the news to her—if there even were any. "Natasha, Alpha Jerome is your contract mate."

"Contract mate?! What do you mean, my contract mate?" Natasha looked at her grandfather, hoping he would retract his statement, but he didn't. He remained silent, his silence speaking volumes.

Natasha knew very well what a contract mate was, (It’s a formal agreement between two packs, a deal rare as rarest is struck, when a female werewolf can’t find her destined mate is contracted to an Alpha who is in in need of a contract mate.)  But she had never imagined such a cruel fate landing in her lap. First, she was born a half-breed, then she was wolf-less, followed by being mate-less, and now a contract mate. Could fate be any crueler to a single person, she thought to herself as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Come on now, there's no need to be sad. Can't you see this as a good thing, especially for you?" Alpha Jerome said.

Natasha shot him a death glare. She wasn't in the mood for consolation from anyone, especially not from him. All she wanted from him was to leave.

"Grand-Lu, please, I can't be his contract mate. I am destined to meet my true mate tonight, I know I am," Natasha said.

"You said the same thing last year and the year before, Natasha, and here we are again this year, you without a mate," Algernon hushed her.

 "I'm sorry, pumpkin, but I can't let this go on for another year. He is your mate, and you shall be his. All the necessary arrangements have been made. I wanted to inform you beforehand so it doesn't catch you by surprise later tonight," Algernon said and left the room, leaving just the two of them.

Natasha could feel her dream life crumbling. She was to be contracted to man a man old enough to be her father and ugly enough to be frightening even without his wolf form.

"You don't have to love me, you know," Jerome said. "Because I, for one, would never stoop so low as to love such a disgrace of a werewolf, if you could even still be classified as one."

Natasha's head remained bowed, trying not to pay him any attention, but his words reached her no matter how hard she tried to ignore them.

"Your only job is to sire me children, the only task my dear Luna is failing at," he continued, jesting. Natasha gritted her teeth and held back her tears.

Just when she thought her fate couldn't get worse, she was reduced to nothing more than a baby-making machine.

Her anger grew, but she clenched her fists to suppress it. If she let loose, all hell would break loose, and her already terrible fate could become even worse.

"...other than that, you're useless to me, and I'll likely make you an omega in my pack out of the kindness of my heart if you do your job well as my  contract mate, that is."

"I will never be your mate!" Natasha lashed out, her eyes burning with rage.

"I'd rather die than be mated to you." Her anger had reached its peak, and she could no longer contain it.

Alpha Jerome didn't immediately respond. He set down the glass of wine he held on the table and, with a calm voice, said, "You're a lot like her, you know—my mate. The same energy. But even she dared not defy me when I wanted something."

Jerome rose to his feet, walked to the door, and paused. With a tone that sounded like a determined, angry devil speaking, he said, "You are mine, Natasha, and I will make you my mate, even if I have to turn the kingdom of Hayden upside down to make it happen."