Forsaken by E. M. Moore
1
My mother is the social media queen of the fucking world.
You’d think that having a daughter at the Rejected Mate Academy would’ve made her shrink into a hole, but not Lara Adams, Daybreak Socialite Extraordinaire.
I flip through her Insta, searching her Winter Solstice planning pics for any backgrounds that I recognize. My old bedroom, perhaps? The living room?
That’s the thing about Greystone Academy. You get homesick quickly. And when you’ve been here as long as I have, it’s straight up torture.
I hover my thumb over one shot. The main focus of the image is of four different gowns thrown over a chair. That’s not what catches my eye, though. The picture was clearly taken in her dressing room where I’m one thousand percent certain a photograph of me on Christmas morning used to grace the wall.
I zoom in on that exact spot...and nothing.
Sure, she could’ve just moved it. Or she could’ve removed it for cleaning since she is a bit of a neat freak, but my heart pangs painfully, anyway. It’s as if they’re trying to erase me from their lives. I’m still their daughter. I may not have a damn mate— Correction, I have a damn mate, he just doesn’t want me, but why should that change our relationship?
I click off social media and throw myself back on the bed with a sigh. As if being rejected by your fated mate and sent to Greystone isn’t enough, I’ve also been erased from my pack altogether. My parents hardly visit. They don’t ask me to come home, either. I’m just sitting here, rotting away with a broken heart. Abandoned. Neglected.
“Ughhhhh.” Sometimes I can’t even stand my inner monologue. I hate being unhappy all the time.
My phone pings, and I reluctantly pull it up to check the screen. The name waiting for me makes me smile. Kinsey. As soon as the feisty, auburn-haired girl showed up at the academy, I had a feeling she wouldn’t stick around. There was just something different about her.
I also wasn’t expecting her to leave a lasting impression on me, either. We’re friends. Friends across packs is basically unheard of.
I’ve befriended girls at Greystone before, but when things get sorted and they return to their own packs, they try to forget everything to do with Rejected Mate Academy—even the people still here.
Not Kinsey, though.
The text contains a picture of her hand, giving a thumbs-up, backdropped by her new greenhouse in the bright sun. I sit up so I can peer at the screen more carefully.
Chuckling, I type: I’m so happy for you.
Warmth envelops me. I mean it with all my heart. I am happy for her, but that doesn’t stop the jealousy. Kinsey and Jonah were perfect for each other—are perfect for each other. Sure, he was a dick at first, but he came around.
Not Sean, though.
The thought of my mate makes my heart twinge like it’s being plucked with razor-sharp nails. I don’t know how he does it. When we talk during our mandatory meetings, which are more like therapy sessions, he says he never feels any longing for me like I do for him. He doesn’t get the weird calmness or the pull to be closer to his fated mate. It makes the loneliness that much worse.
Either I’m broken or he’s a damn liar.
I’ve had enough discussions with other shifters here, and they all say the same thing. Why would fate match us if we weren’t right for each other? We’re supposed to be together, and when we deny it, it’s like giving a big middle finger to destiny.
Sean’s proudly heaved two middle fingers since this all began.
I have half a mind to say fuck him. But that’s the thing—I want to fuck him.
In reality, it’s not me. It’s fate. She’s still trying to bring us together like magnets.
How’s Nathan?Kinsey texts.
I heave out a breath. My close friend’s disappointment hurts almost as much as my own. Nathan’s fated partner just happens to be the girl Sean is with. Like with with. Gayle’s also been walking around with her two middle fingers pointed in the air.
Technically, Sean and Gayle aren’t supposed to be together, but I’m way the hell over here at Greystone, so I have no idea what they are or aren’t doing. All I know is that they were dating for years and when we shifted for the first time, they didn’t get paired. Sean and I did. A month or so later, so did Nathan and Gayle.
Fate, apparently, doesn’t matter to them. Yet, for reasons I cannot comprehend, Nathan and I are the ones being punished because we weren’t giant douches who filled out the Mate Rejection Slip.
God, I hate all the stupid paperwork this place entails. As if you can fix destiny with a business-like paper trail.
He had a meeting yesterday, I text back, my fingers buzzing. He’d not been happy when he came by my room afterward. He said he’s going to stop trying.
I fret over my lip. I understand what he’s feeling. I go through bouts of denial and need. It’s common, especially if you’re here for any length of time. At this point, I could write the damn book on being rejected.
Kinsey doesn’t respond right away. I don’t blame her. We both know what it means if Greystone Academy students stop trying. We go Feral. It’s like hell for sinners. It basically means the shifters in charge drop the unwanted ones off in the middle of the woods, packless. You have nothing and no one. We can’t live without our pack bonds and societal structure. Going Feral is the touch of death.
My stomach twists as I read back the text. He’s going to stop trying.
Selfishly, I wondered what that meant. Stupid hope started pouring a cement foundation inside of me—a hope I shouldn’t even be feeling.
I’ve been keeping something from her. Hell, I’ve been keeping it from everybody because it only serves as a one-way ticket to Feral, but I’m dying to discuss it. Absolutely dying. Even if they tell me I’m being crazy, which they will.
Maybe I’m hoping someone will knock some sense into me.
I don’t know what to say, Kinsey finally texts back. I’m rooting for you both, and if you ever need me FOR ANYTHING, call me. I mean it.
I put my phone down. She’s a good friend, but what exactly could she do to help me? It’s not like she could change laws to get me the hell out of here.
A knock sounds, and I automatically call out for the person to come in. It’s in the brief moment between the door opening and Nathan making his appearance that nerves set in.
It wasn’t always like this between us. Since coming here, he’s been my best friend. Now, though, I suppress a whole heap of emotions as he walks in with his bright white Greystone Academy shirt untucked, wrinkles along the hem ruining the clean-cut image. The purple-piped sleeves of the button-down are rolled up to his elbows, showing off a chiseled set of forearms.
Chiseled set of forearms? What in the hell?
I shake my head. That’s the last thing I need to be thinking about. I smile as he closes the door behind him. Dark circles under his eyes greet me, and my lips thin while I take in the rest of him. The shadowed marks match the scruff on his face. His styled, black hair curls up in the front, looking like he just got out of a photo shoot for the cover of Dark & Handsome Magazine. His hair is a tad too long at the moment, but it gives him a bad boy look that’s just short of appearing disheveled.
“What’s that face for?” he asks in greeting, eyes narrowing on me.
I swear we can read each other like textbooks. “Nothing.”
His gaze darts toward the phone next to me. “Text or social?”
I roll my eyes. I can’t keep anything from him. “Kinsey,” I reluctantly explain.
He plops down on the foot of my bed, making himself comfortable before twisting his head to the side, regarding me. He’s no doubt remembering the period of grief I went through when she left, which doesn’t match with the ire I’m clinging to now. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Just sending me happy texts.” I bring up the picture of her greenhouse and turn the screen toward him so he can see. “Hate her,” I grumble.
He shakes his head as I pull the phone back. “Please.” He pushes my leg in jest. “You don’t hate her.”
Instead of barely noticing his touch, I actually stare at the heat trail he left behind. “I kind of hate her a little,” I tell him, frowning at the spot on my leg and wondering what it means. Have I been so lonely that I just need someone to pay attention to me?
“Yeah, I kind of do, too,” he deadpans.
I reach out and kick him playfully. “Hey.”
He smiles back at me. “See. Knew you didn’t hate her.”
“Don’t push me, though. I might later.”
He chuckles, the sound throaty and cascading over me like a warm blanket.
Nathan and I knew each other when we were at Daybreak, but not like we do now. We bonded over being rejected, as some of us do while we’re here, but our relationship is deeper. We were rejected by a couple. I can’t even count the number of nights we’ve sat up and talked through their reasonings, wondering if they’re still seeing each other—and if they are, if there’s anything we should do about it. Plus, since he’s from my pack, there’s another tie that can’t be ignored. Among other attributes, we’re both sporting the same tattoo-like brand in the center of our chests: A sun peeking out over the horizon.
If Nathan and I ever make it through this, I picture us back at Daybreak, living next door to each other and constantly spying on our mates to make sure they’re not fucking.
At least, that’s the pretty image we’ve painted for ourselves. It’s ‘best-case scenario’ for us.
“She asked about you,” I tell him.
A wistful smile plays over his lips while he absentmindedly plucks at my sheets. “Tell her I’m not dead yet.”
“Will do.”
“I have to admit…” he sighs and peers over at me, “it’s kind of quiet without her here. She came roaring into Greystone like a lion. I miss the drama.”
I push my tongue against my teeth. He’s acting so nonchalant, so normal, that I’m almost wondering if I had a mental break and what I think happened between us didn’t. We’re hanging out like we’ve done pretty much every night since coming here. My personal night tally is 487, but who’s counting? “Right? Escaping Greystone?”
“Having her mate follow her everywhere?” he grumbles, like the idea makes him sick.
“I’m pretty sure a few girls wanted to claw her eyes out.”
“You were one of them.”
I kick out again, but Nathan brings his forearm up to deflect. He snatches my foot and places it over his thigh, casually laying his arm across my ankle. “As soon as I saw them together, I knew she wasn’t going to stay.”
“Lucky bitch.” I stare down the length of me, watching where we connect. We’ve done this so many times and I never even blinked an eye, but now every context is different. At least it is to me.
What we did could send us both Feral. For days afterward, I watched my back as if Greystone has hidden cameras in every room and we were spotted by security. Who knows? That could actually be a thing, and they just haven’t gotten to review the footage yet.
I lick my lips. “Nathan....”
He must sense something in the tone of my voice. “Don’t,” he warns, voice dropping a few octaves like he’s going to pull rank on me.
I recoil. He doesn’t speak to me in that way. Ever. “Don’t?”
He peeks at me, the hard line of his jaw flexing. When he sees my face, his own softens. “I’m sorry, okay? I just know what you’re going to say.”
Idon’t even know what I’m going to say. For weeks, I’ve been trying to talk myself into thinking that what we did was some sort of daydream. Or drunken stupor. Or alien hostage situation.
None of which are plausible, but they’re more believable than what did occur. Acting like it never happened is driving me insane.
“I just miss you,” I tell him. “I miss the way it was before.”
“Mia.”
The warning tone in his voice says it all, but I’m not backing down from this. If something gets out, we need our stories straight. Hell, not even that. The two of us actually need to be on the same page, and a little part of me wants to know what chapter he’s on or if we’re even in the same book.
“Nathan, we need to talk about…” I drop my voice to a whisper, “the kiss.”
