The Hybrid’s Submission

Gods, someone gag me. The mushy, mushy, touchy-feely bullshit coming out of his mouth makes me want to vomit. If my wolf wasn’t submissive in nature and still reeling from our mate’s rejection, I’d stomp up there and give him my two cents. My demon side is keen on kicking his ass, but I can’t let that happen either. It’s not what my heart wants. Even though my mate doesn’t want me, I refuse to let anyone hurt him. Especially, if that someone is me.

I feel a familiar buzz in my head, as my demon side begins to speak. Damn spirit has it’s own personality and everything.

Why are you protecting him? It’s not like he offered you the same courtesy.

No, he didn’t but at least I can say I did.

I don’t see why you won’t let me take over. I’d kick his ass for rejecting us. We’d have been the best thing to ever happen to him. Asshole.

Hush, that’s not what I want.

What do you want then?

For him to be happy.

And what about you? Your wolf is submissive, it can’t handle the pain of rejection. It doesn’t understand why our mate doesn’t want us.

My wolf will have to deal. It’ll never understand the reasons for it. Quite frankly, I don’t understand them much myself.

If I promise not to attack him, will you let me take over?

Why do you want to?

To protect you and your wolf from the pain. To safeguard you both from further hurts. Let me handle things from here.

Okay.

As the bonding ceremony comes to a close, Clay and Rachel share a kiss. I feel a shaft of pain in my heart before it goes numb and I find myself looking through the eyes of my demon half. The guests around me are cheering congratulations for the happy couple but I can’t find it in myself to care. Donning my aviators to hide my now red irises, I grab the duffel bag I stashed under the chair, stand and walk away.

Present Day…

A BDSM Club outside Atlanta, GA

“Harder, Master.” The sub, I have cuffed to the St. Andrew’s Cross is a pain slut, and a bossy little shit. The little fucker never says please unless I make him. Probably thinks I’ll punish him with my cock or something. Not fucking likely. I have rules, one of them being I never have penetrative sex with any of the subs I play with. Another is I never take a permanent sub. I’ve heard the subs chatting occasionally. Every time I switch to someone new they’re always hoping to crack my armor, to get me to break my rules. But, I won’t.

I have rules for a reason. My rules were put in place to protect my other half. If I don’t let anyone get too close, I won’t risk letting them get under my skin. They don’t get under my skin, they can’t get to my heart and if they can’t get to my heart then they can’t cause me pain. After being rejected by my fated mate thirty years ago, I haven’t let anyone get close to me. Sure, I have friends, but they are kept at arm’s length as well. It’s lonely but it works.

I’ve been called a number of names over the years, but the one most people tend to use is cold hearted son of a bitch. I suppose that’s true. Thirty years ago, I closed off my heart to those that would love me, even my family. I haven’t been home to visit since that day when I watched my fated mate tie himself to someone else. I do manage to call every once in a while, but it’s not the same as spending time with them. I’ve never even met my nieces and nephews and last I heard my brother was expecting his fifth child. Gods, I miss home, but there’s no point dwelling on it now. I can’t go back. Not while he’s there. I won’t.

I left the pack on the day of the bonding ceremony. Took everything I owned and headed east. I spent twenty-five years travelling the country. Somehow, I ended up in Atlanta, calling the Atlanta pack home. I’ve been here for the last five years. The Atlanta pack is run out of a BDSM club by a bisexual Alpha. I say he’s bisexual because he has two fated mates, one male and one female. They make a beautiful triad and will make even better parents. Their first child is due in six months.

After moving here and gaining admission into the Atlanta pack, I started working at the bar in the club. Personally, I never thought BDSM was my thing but after watching the scene from the bar for six months I finally asked someone to train me. I spent six months as a sub before I learned to be a Dom. Now, I’m one of the few Master Dom’s in the club. Every sub in here vies for my attention, hoping to be collared permanently. I only contract my subs on a monthly basis, when the month is up, I find someone new. I’m sure I’ve left a lot of subs disappointed at the end of those months. Especially, since during the contract period they get what I call a temporary collar. It’s nothing fancy, just a slim silver chain but it serves its purpose and is removed at the end of the month.

Maybe I’m compensating for something, I don’t know. But, it’s easier this way. Keeping relationships impersonal, is the easiest way to protect my heart from being shattered again. I can still remember that day like it was yesterday. The day, I realized Clay Poshmire was my fated mate and got myself rejected at the same time.