Breaking the Bond that Binds

I was rejected by my mate, so you can imagine how I feel about the mating bond. I was young, only 15, when it happened. When he turned 18, it triggered a response in me. Nothing was the same after that.

He was an Alpha, the Pureblood heir of my pack, and I was the not-bargained-for and completely unsuitable mate. It was a shock to everyone, especially me. I was a child not just thrown in the deep end, but into an abyss. I was wrong in so many ways. First off, I was the pack runt, frail compared to the other boys my age. My family was lowborn, the lowest tier in a pack of Lycan Purebloods. But the most glaring problem was my age. I was the most insignificant among the insignificant.

Then there’s WOLF. He rarely made an appearance. When he did show himself, he had a menacing presence that no one in the pack understood and, thankfully, questioned. He was as unlike my human shell as possible, feral to my timid. As a Lycan, WOLF should be the primary being in our symbiotic relationship, and I the camouflage in a world controlled by humans. Even in this, we didn’t conform. My human qualities dominated, and I was shy and invisible. This was the worst crime I could commit against my kind.

My rejection was as public as our finding each other. His standing in the pack demanded that it be done officially. I accepted it without objection as I was dragged through the process in a drug-induced fog. The mating pull between us was horrifically painful, physically and emotionally. It felt like my skin was being peeled off my body, and WOLF was tossed into hell. His suffering was inconceivable. The offered oblivion was welcomed.

Once the bond was broken and the connection waned, I could breathe again. I hoped to return to normal. To live as I did before, in the background, not seen or heard, invisible. The intense pull, the craving for him, became a bearable ache in my chest and then faded away. As time passed, I occasionally felt a deep pang of longing or a sharp pain like a blade thrust into my heart. They were cruel reminders of that horrible time, of my mate.

However, returning to my old life was not possible. I could no longer live among my own kind.

I left my pack long ago. Disowned them and my illustrious Ancestors, along with my undeserving mate. I am now a rogue Lycan. I lead a quiet life on the other side of the country. I live among humans. Even the old torments of a full moon are under my control. I still feel the heat and want to mate, but now I choose who to mate with. If by any chance my worthless mate feels my presence, as I do him infrequently, I hope he feels my pleasure when I take a lover. I hope it hurts.

Originally, my hate for the Purebloods was like a furnace, creating an iron resolve in me. I will never bow or bend to Pureblood rules again. I will control my nature and live as I wish.

Living in the human world has made me realise the Lycan and werewolf mating bond is like a drug, the most addictive drug possible. It’s all-consuming; no amount of rehabilitation can truly free you from it. It is an enslaving drug that takes away your true feelings and thoughts and replaces them with illusions, compulsions, and an endless, unwarranted longing for another. You are a slave to it, and it lures you in with passion and lust. In its grip, you suddenly love, lust, and connect with someone who, before the bond's existence, was nothing to you. It doesn’t matter if they’re an enemy or not- the gender you prefer. You hone in on them and only them; your life and sanity depend on it.

It takes away choice, independence, and, most importantly, individuality.

It also rides in tandem and is complicit with the ranking system of the Lycan hierarchy. It’s used to keep the Alphas in their elevated positions and their underlings in their place. It allows those who want to dominate to do so freely and forces the weak to submit without a choice or shame. Even now, I remember clearly my own desire to submit to my mate, when in my right mind, I would have fought back, fang and claw. I hate that thought the most.

It kept me moving forward, even when I found my isolation in the human world too hard to bear. Looking back, I have lost nothing of value and gained a great deal. Any price or sacrifice I paid along the way for my freedom and independence was well worth it.

I turn 18 tomorrow. A part of me is nervous.

Footnote: Important fact number one: a werewolf is a combination of two souls, human and wolf; it is a symbiotic relationship. Whereas, Lycans are Wolf with a human shell. They are a singular being. It is a distinction Lycans like to press.

The next fact is that werewolves mate with their own kind and, occasionally, with humans. The Goddess can be capricious in her choices. Their bloodlines are impure, with every generation adding to the mix.

The opposite applies to Lycans. Their unique culture centres around the fact that they are Purebloods, direct bloodlines to the original Lycans, who were created by an angry God. It was meant to be a curse, but Lycans see it as a blessing.

Since the beginning, every Lycan mating, birth, and so on has been recorded. The genealogical history and lineage of each Pureblood line form the foundation of the Pureblood hierarchy.

Volume upon volume setting down the history of the Purebloods sits in the Hall of Ancestors in the Homeland. Every Lycan born into a high-ranked family, every lowborn, can trace their lineage back to one of the Originals.

They mate only with their own kind, with no exceptions.

Their bloodlines must remain pure.

The last thing you need to know is that it was the Ancestors of the present Lycans who turned the first humans into werewolves.