TWISTED FATES BOOK 1: The First Twist

Sammie

We had another argument this evening, which resulted in the usual outcome; Devon stalking out off to tinker in the garage and me “sulking,” as he puts it, upstairs in our bedroom. Only this time, things were different. It didn’t feel like the bond that we had was even there anymore. The vindictiveness that personified our quarrel was unlike any other I had encountered before. Words like “hate” and “wish I never met you” were just a few of the malevolent reciprocities that managed to make their appearances. The vile assertions made on both our parts had materialized without as much as a hint of resignation from either of us. Granted, he was quite intoxicated, a condition that had become more frequent at home than not; but that still didn’t dismiss that I knew deep down there was power in what had been spoken. My own sense of affection and pull towards him were quickly diminishing and being replaced with regret and emptiness.

Something was undeniably wrong with us.

Up until this point, when it came to matters concerning Devon and myself, I had always confided in my one remaining BFF, Dasha. She is a beautiful and insightful witch, whom I swear has to have the patience of a saint, considering how much of my tumultuous life with Devon I have imparted upon her. She was my relationship sounding board and counselor all rolled into one, not once ever complaining, for which I am forever indebted to her.

According to Dasha, because Devon not only broke ties with his pack and his whole Alpha thingy, he had stopped shifting, neglecting his wolf. That, compiled with the fact that he also never marked me as his mate, caused the supernatural bond between Devon’s wolf and me to be nearly exhausted, barely hanging on by a very thin red thread of fate. She had told me an exceedingly rare scenario when only one or two of these factors were in place, but we were treading into dangerous territory people with all three.

I guess that’s why as much as I sat here on our bed looking down at the ominous blue vial, I cradled in my trembling hands; I couldn’t seem to make myself cry anymore. It’s not because I don’t love Devon. I really do, and I know that there will always be a big part of me that will never lose that love for him, mate or not. I would treasure our time together, though brief, forever. But seeing how unhappy he is now, I feel like somehow this is all my fault. Maybe being with me is what ruined him. I now understood that I shouldn’t keep clinging to a relationship that undoubtedly wasn’t meant to be. I mean, pretty much what Dasha was telling me made that quite clear.

I was ruining him.

If Devon and I were supposed to be together, then fate or whatever would never have mercilessly let our relationship fall apart.

Clearly, I was never meant to be Devon’s mate.

Me, a mere human, mated to an Alpha Wolf. Fairly sure the Moon Goddess made a mistake with this one

So, what’s in this ominous blue vial, you ask? What’s in the box? Seven anyone ... anyone?

Just kidding.

In a nutshell, it’s the answer to fixing the natural order of things and righting the wrong, which was the bond created between Devon and me before it ever began.

Or so I was told.

I have resolved myself to the fact that Devon deserves much more; someone like him. Someone that he would feel comfortable marking as his mate and feeling proud to have as his pack’s Luna, which became quite apparent, I didn’t cut the mustard.

After asking Dasha for help, and despite her having some severe resignations, she finally broke down and decided to offer her support. She took me to see an ancient and powerful witch from her coven, Madame Witch. (I call her that so that she can retain her anonymity; this is on the DL, of course). Madame Witch specialized in resolving “special” types of requests, although her fees came at higher than average costs.

My particular request came with an exceedingly high price.

Of course, it did.

Facepalm here, please.

How much, one might ask?

Well, from what I understood, with all the magic mumbo jumbo garble, it could be summed up pretty easily.

After I take the potion, Devon would no longer recognize me as his mate and, I would also lose ten years of my mortal life.

Rough I know, but since no one actually knows when they’re going to die anyway, I threw caution to the wind and went for it.

I mean, who knows, am I right? My lifespan could potentially let me live up to the ripe old age of 80.

Ten years is nothing, chump change.

The most crucial outcome from all this for me, in the end, is Devon’s happiness. He will be able to find his true mate. A Mate that he can feel proud to make his Luna and live the life that he deserves. I owed him that much.

Madame Witch conveyed a couple of very stringent guidelines that I needed to remember to abide by. Otherwise, according to her, any negligence on my part could potentially cause some kind of timeline disruption resulting in a butterfly effect of a disastrous outcome.

Witches are sooooo overdramatic.

I would retain all of my memories up until the intersection of mine and Devon’s timelines, I assume, so that I don’t make the same choices. It kinda defeats the whole purpose of all this, I suppose. Once modification of our fates has occurred, everything around us would proceed as usual, if you can call it that.

And lest we not forget ... NO MATTER WHAT... I could not try and change anyone else’s outcome other than what pertained to Devon and myself. Trying to change someone else’s destiny was the biggest no-no—apparently something about damning myself for pissing off fate yadda yadda.

You get the picture.

Although she did say that the time in which our fates connected would not be a long venture, so there “technically” didn’t appear to be any risk of me screwing the proverbial pooch with whatever I was going to do. Basically, this was more of a disclaimer she needed to tell everyone when they opted for this type of magic. Since I had no real idea about what any of this would entail anyway, I willingly obliged her and agreed to the conditions.

Personally, I wasn’t even sure what was going to happen. It’s hard to decipher magic potions and incantations with all of their otherworldly jibber jabber but, I went ahead took a leap of faith. I was naively hoping that fate would at least have pity on me for once in my life. I seriously believed that Devon and I would wake up in the morning, look at each other, and poof - the mate bond would be gone entirely. I stupidly believed that we’d just break up amicably once he concluded that I wasn’t his mate and move on.

Boy, was I wrong on that one, my friends.

Note to self when you make a deal with a witch, make sure you understand precisely what it is you’re paying for.

Always read the fine print, people!

**********************************************************

Staring down at the blue vial that was resting in the palm of my hands, I realized there was no point in delaying the inevitable. Better to rip off the Band-Aid quickly, I always say.

I carefully removed the vial’s small russet-stained cork topper and raised the vial towards my lips, my nose taking in a huge waft of its content’s putrid scent that was emanating outwardly from the small opening of the bottle.

Eww pretty sure that’s what death must smell like!

I closed my eyes and took a deep calming breath to muster up the last bit of my courage. I tilted the vial back against my parted lips and swallowed its contents down in one gulp.

Can I just say ick with a huuuge side of ick!

Additional note to self, magic potions tastes seriously gross!

The thick black viscous fluid slowly burned its way down my throat and into the pit of my belly, where I could feel it nestle itself deep within my core setting my insides aflame.

OK, not literally, but if they were, I could totally imagine, THIS … this is what burning insides would feel like.

Doubled over in pain, I had to fight with myself to use restraint against the instinct to grab anything that would calm the intense fire burning within me and get rid of the disgusting taste that lingered in my mouth.

Alas, though, I could not. I had been warned by Dasha and Madame Witch that I could not consume any other substances after ingesting the contents of the blue vial’s liquid for its magic to work.

Well, that’s just cruel if you ask me.

I slowly placed my head down onto my soothing pillow. I was resolved to the fact that in order to get beyond the pain I was suffering, I would have to ride out its torturous waves of heat and nausea until it either consumed me to the point of passing out or completed its merciless reign over my body and allowed me some sort of reprieve. Either way, it sucked.

I guess that’s the price you pay for strong magic, I suppose.

I finally managed to curl myself into a fetal-like position and drape a blanket around my shivering body; despite the volcano of heat that erupted within me, I had the chills. It felt as if every hair on my body was standing at attention, and every nerve was exposed to the elements around me. I wearily draped my limp arm around my stomach, hoping to rub the sweltering chaos that I was experiencing into submission.

As I rested there on my bed, beads of sweat and tears were converging into one pool running along the side of my cheek. I laid there for a while until, by some grace of whatever, I managed to fall asleep or pass out, but either way, it was the mercy I had been silently praying for.

**********************************************************

Devon sat on an old fallen log next to the lake at the end of his property. With his face in his hands, he let out a frustrated sigh.

This was not how things were supposed to be at all. He was once a powerful and feared Alpha; now, he felt like a pathetic joke. Slade, his wolf, barely even spoke; and Devon was well aware that his physique was a far cry from his former days of glory.

He couldn’t understand how everything just went so utterly wrong between him and his mate, if he could even call her that. It felt like the two were at odds with each other over the most trivial things more often than not. Hell, he barely even had sex with her anymore. Devon didn’t even understand why his human side felt no real desire to do so either. Unlike his unkempt appearance, he couldn’t deny that Sammie remained beautiful, sexy actually, but his feelings for her were still diminishing.

He knew this was why Slade, his wolf, was so upset with him. Devon just couldn’t help how he was feeling. Of course, this made no sense considering he and Sammie were supposed to be true mates, but the problems between them existed nonetheless.

This evening was yet another example of such problems.

The two had argued, again.

Quite terribly, and if Devon were to be completely honest, he was more than a pivotal contributor to the harsh words spoken between them. He was well aware that she was more than likely up in their room, crying. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately, crying because of him and his temper.

He’d never physically struck her. He couldn’t do that to her, but that didn’t mean his words didn’t carry just as much weight as if he had done so.

“DAMMIT!!!” He roared as he ran his hands through his disheveled hair.

He reached down and grabbed the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels that lay next to him. Taking a big swig of its contents, Devon relished the burning sting as it slowly streamed down his throat.

“This is all because of those fucking nightmares.” He slurred to no one in particular.

He remembered how his nightmares were the reasoning for why he’d left his pack and didn’t mark Sammie in the first place. In those nightmares, his marking her always led to her death. He chalked the nightmares up as pure paranoia at first, but the fact that he had experienced them continuously for a year was cause for concern; thus, he left his pack to try and get away from his own world. The nightmares, however, continued to haunt him even after he and Sammie moved away. It wasn’t until their relationship had begun to hit a downward slope that the nightmares finally ceased.

Devon had made a couple of attempts to rekindle their relationship; each time, the nightmares would once again manifest themselves. He soon realized that his and Sammie’s distance was the ultimate end to his nights of torment. Their strife was his liberation. He was finally able to sleep peacefully, free from the nightmares that foretold her death, plaguing him over and over again.

Obviously, the Moon Goddess was trying to tell him something.

Maybe she had made a mistake.

Perhaps he and Sammie weren’t actually supposed to be mates.

Why else would he be seeing her death because of his mark?

MATE ... Devon was pulled out of his troubling thoughts.

MATE!!!

What’s going on, Slade? What about Sammie?

Devon hadn’t heard from Slade for quite some time, so hearing his anxiety over Sammie was cause for concern.

MATE IS HURTING. SOMETHING BAD IS HAPPENING. PLEASE STOP IT BEFORE ITS TOO LATE...

Alarms were going off in Devon’s head with Slade’s words. He was immediately sobered up as he sprang up and began to sprint back home.

Unfortunately, Devon never made it there before he was suddenly overcome with a searing pain throughout his entire body, causing him to fall prey to the darkness that befell him.