Olivia POV
As I watched the man sleeping beside me, a wave of quiet fulfillment washed over me.
We've endured heartbreak, betrayal, and wounds inflicted by those we once trusted, yet through every storm, we stood together.
I couldn't have asked for a better mate.
He's mine. My devil.
My Alpha.
FLASHBACK *****
My bones were breaking.
I let out another throat-itching scream as my right ankle twisted painfully into itself, the pull bringing me down to my knees. My hands were chained to the ground with a padlock at either corner of the dark room, the only light coming in being the bright glow of the full moon.
The fucking full moon; yet another one.
I hated it and I was using 'hate' very mildly. I dreaded the changes that came with it, one of which being how I chained myself to the ground in the underground basement Penny had built a couple of years ago to avoid going on a rampage and killing some innocent human.
My fangs pulled out painfully and I yelled out in pain, knowing it was coming. The resilient urge to free myself picked at me and my vision blurred with a red image. Sweat dripped down my naked skin as heat engulfed me and my throat was dry from all the screaming I was doing.
My chest ached. Hell, everywhere ached. Before I knew it, I began to cry. Every single time a bone broke or twisted painfully, I let out a loud cry.
Being only half-werewolf, I wasn't like the rest of the werewolf world. I didn't belong to a pack. One would say I was a lone ranger and not of lack of want. Nobody wanted me. I was as good as useless. Tainted with human blood, I was what werewolves referred to as impure.
In a way, I wasn't exactly unhappy about it. I didn't even want to be a werewolf. It was a curse, otherwise I wouldn't be chained underground with every single bone in my body breaking every full moon. It was a fucked up way to live and I wanted no part of it.
Once a werewolf turned eighteen, they gained the power to transform. As time went on, depending on one's lineage and capabilities, one begins to develop unique powers.
I was twenty- three and I had no powers. I didn't even have a mate and most found theirs before they're twenty.
I had given up. Maybe I wasn't meant to be a werewolf, which was why for the past three years, I'd devoted my life to finding a cure.
Why would I want to live this way if there was a way out there to cure myself? Why did I have to have painful transformations? Why must I feel so incomplete without a mate?
Unfortunately, I was having no luck getting anywhere, but I wasn't going to stop; three years of my life was not going to be a waste.