Those who want a normal life due to their past mostly carry guilt like it is a weapon. The relationships can be rewarding, but they tread treacherous waters, with plenty of temptation to walk away from their destiny. This example is one of the happier endings.

I had stumbled upon abuse romances some 3 years after I joined my mate's pack. It terrified me. The trigger warnings were worse than reading the abuse, leaving me feeling like I was being coddled, reminding me that I am less of a man than everyone else around me.

My mate tells me that it's a silly notion, that I'm somehow not perfect. I'd swear that woman is blind, but no, weres have better eyesight than human and natural wolves combined.

And it wasn't the descriptions. I could separate myself away from being told horrible things...it's the part where some of these accounts are based off of real experiences. You don't know who is chronicling their pain, but the heavily authentic can leave you awake at night.

But the thing that honestly terrifies me more is having to expose anything I went through...and I won't do much of that, not for my sanity, at least. But they are asking for people to submit the story of their lives. Though why they are asking for this excerpt now instead of in my old age, I'm not getting it.

I met my mate the last day of my Sophomore year, when in the middle of a shoving match with some asshole. I picked a shit-ton of fights to distract me from my home life. Well this guy had enough of me and my big mouth, and shoved me hard enough to trip over the feet of some onlookers. The back of my head hit a nice rack and I was blessed with a tingling surround sound in the shape of my favorite pair of breasts. I must have looked like Stanley "tit-head"...the only character worth remembering from that movie.

"Get off me, you oaf!" You hear a lot of people talk about the voice of an angel. No such thing here. Like Janice Joplin, Stevie Nicks, or Alana Myles--not that the 3 women sounded alike, but that there is a quality of tone--they sound like they have experience screaming a man's name out, if you catch my meaning.

So, perfect tits, tingles, a voice that made me think of sex, and I was so out of my element that I didn't process what she said.

She wound up shoving me off her, and with a grin, I was back into my fight. Seriously, I was rarely in a good mood unless causing or receiving pain back then.

My girl didn't wait around for me. Class had started, and their then Alpha was extremely strict. The man was goal-oriented and intended to have as many young people in college or a technical school as he could shove into them because the were world was changing. But what did 2 fool kids know? She didn't understand his motivations, and I thought she left because she was disgusted with the fighting.

The teacher that caught us knew I was trying to be sent home early something fierce, so as usual, he punished me by not doing anything but sending me off to class. Which pissed the guy off that I was fighting with because he got in-school detention for the rest of that day. Boy forgot that he was the one who took the first swing, just because I blackened both his eyes like a panda. Of course, I was paying for that with a really bad kidney shot that hurt like hell.

My Junior year, it was back to the classroom. Just the week before I took a lighter to this blonde bimbo's hair. Didn't burn but a couple of inches, made the whole room smell like burnt hair. Don't know how I got away with that. Either the teacher was sweet on me or was scared shitless of what I'd do next.

Shit, looking back, I was a really troubled kid.

The teacher moved our seats around the middleof the year, the second time I noticed her: it was those perfect tits--I mean eyes, yeah, that's what I noticed, alright?

Look, I've read the stupid things, they act like all bullies are players who have to only trip over their own two feet to have a vagina to poke. That is not how life works. You have to offer something for a girl to want to be with you--not always good things, just some things. Like these ones about Alphas have "status symbols" to offer, or "known history of being a good fuck". Outside of my mate, I've never heard anyone say that I was attractive. By no means was I celibate, but I wasn't drenched in sex, either. So, I suppose this bond hit me, the 2nd time, when I was thirsty.

Once I could get my mind around all the things I wanted to do to her, I realize that she likely saw me light that girl's hair on fire.

Shit, that killed the libido. There I went back to being bored out of my mind.

And I couldn't get anyone to fight me again, the rest of the week.

I learned to forget about my mate, too.

It wasn't until I was walking to my car, one day, at the beginning of my Senior year, that I finally couldn't find a way to ignore Tits again. She walked over with a confidence that was in no way fake. Normally, people talk about how guys love the chase? No, she was built to chase, not be chased. It's like a small part of me could tell what she was, even then.

"So you finally noticed me?" That confident lazy smirk of hers as she looked up at me was killer. I still wish I could bottle it and sell it.

"I've been noticing you for a long time, honey."

"Would you like to notice me tonight?"

"At your place?"

"Mine's too crowded."

"So's mine, so what do you want to do about it?"

"Motel room?"

"Sure. Want to ride with me?" It was so casual, neither of us allowing ourselves to look nervous. On the whole drive, I doubt I looked at her once--she certainly never touched me.

We went to a place that took cash and didn't keep great records--wasn't uncommon for it to be raided. They didn't really evenntake a look at our liscenses, other than to glance at our apparant ages.

I had never had to use a motel before. Don't know why I didn't offer to do her in my car. The few times I'd done anything similar, the girl would start something on the ride...but then, they weren't this blunt, either.

But it was a night and day difference once I got her in the room. She started pulling off my clothes while attacking anything uncovered with those damned lips of hers. I was almost dizzy by the time I had her in the bed and sunk into her. I rode a high the whole time--I felt feverish, alive. Hell, this was better than fighting. I did everything I could think to do to her--and I had one heck of an imagination.

I still try to recapture that night, possess this woman fully, but the only times I come close is when she goes into heat. Don't get me wrong, our worst day makes everything I had ever done pale in comparison. But that first night? It's what killed my even thinking about another girl. I regret that my first or even second contact qith her didn't do the same.

Years later, I found out that it was normal for mates to go at it that early in getting together--even those with a difficult relationship still got it on, while cursing the fates that brought them together. Rejections midst-bout of sex were so common that when I saw it was plain avoided in all the little lovey-dovey stories they tell others, I started giggling hysterically. Mate thought I done lost my mind.

From what I've been told, if you're expecting a rejection and are not lost in the romance of finding your mate, the midst-coupling rejections hurt the least, could actually fuel a climax, even spike on those tingles before disappearing completely. Crazy stuff that I haven't gone through, and given how most stories are written, it's clear that people don't want it known to try it that way. Probably because it sometimes results in babies. Weres are some fertile creatures.

But it was a good thing I didn't know about that because I'd have likely done that, several times over, in the early stages. Change is uncomfortable.

Anyway, we went at it most the night, so long that I was too tired to leave once done. Just passed out next to her.

~~~

I woke up to someone running their fingers through my hair. It felt so good--for a second.

Right behind that, old habits set in, and I was out the bed and against the wall trying to get the hell away from that touch.

I wasn't even fully awake, but she snapped to real quick after that move. She got up and walked towards me the same way she did when she casually hit me up. "Who did this to you?"

Now, it's a bit of mind fuckery, if you think about it. My mate was strolling towards me, naked, with a strut a porn star would envy, and asking me about what scared me so shitless. My brain and dick were in a battle of wills.

Stupid dick--it doesn't accept that it's used to forget what the brain knows.

But she was the best distraction...and she wasn't distracting me. That pissed me off. "None of your fucking business."

"Now is that the best way to talk to the girl that gave you the night of your life?"

She was so cocky, but I was an asshole for a reason. "Psh...you wish."