Axel's POV

Axel's POV

"So you're saying the reason I spent my 18th birthday and the past three days throwing up is probably because of some shitty mate of mine," I repeated.

Dr. Laken frowned. He reluctantly continued. "Technically, yes, but—"

"Great," I cut him off, scowling. I had heard enough "I haven't even met this chick and she's ruining my life."

Dr. Laken's frown deepened, but he held his tongue. It wasn't the first time I had expressed my passionate hate towards my mate.

My wolf rumbled with displeasure at my thoughts, but I hushed him with a snap.

It wasn't my fault. See, I didn't understand this mate business.

Why?

Why must we be paired up with someone against our wishes and desires? So we can procreate? We can do that without eternal bonding with someone picked for us.

In fact, I'd been practicing the act of 'procreating' for years now, and I was doing just fine. 

What the hell did I need some shitty mate for? Some bullshit like 'love'?

The mere idea made me scoff. Who gave a fuck about love? Put crudely, I gave a fuck about fucking. 

In fact, I'd say I 'love' fucking. And I don't fucking love having my life torn apart for something like love.

Yet the minute the clock struck midnight on my 18th birthday, I leaned over and threw up all over the bottle of Dom Perignon we had just popped open.

Because werewolves just have to have shitty fucking mates that you bond to on your birthday, and the shock of that stupid bond just has to be so overwhelming that the shitty mate throwing up makes you throw up as well.

Again and again, I threw up, had a high fever, and remained sick and miserable. 

My dad and the pack was extremely concerned. I was supposed to have a party—the party of the year—but I couldn't attend it because I was too busy throwing up!

Seriously, I had the worst luck. I had to find my shitty mate right at 18—couldn't she give me a few years to have a good time?! Why did I have to meet her so early on in my life?!—and then why did she have to be sick on my one special day?!

The icing on the cake was that my dad refused to hand down the Alpha position. I knew he was going to—despite what Van said—but the moment it was clear I had connected with my mate, he declared he'd hand down the title after I mated with her.

It angered me just thinking about it. 

Why? Why did I have to mate with her to get something that was originally mine to take in the first place? 

My entire life has just been leading up to that moment where I inherit the Alpha title. Everything I've worked for was just for this—and I was very well strong and capable enough to become the Alpha. 

Yet it was taken last minute. For some stupid asshole I'll have to spend the rest of my life with, fall in 'love' with.

So fucking unfair.

I didn't want to be tied down to one bitch. I'm still young! I should be able to have a little fun, mess around, before I settle down with in my late twenties or something. 

It doesn't matter if I sleep around a little! I despised how everyone acted like I was in the wrong for not wanting to shackle myself to some bullshit soulmate.

I sighed, muscles tense with frustration as I leaned back against my headboard, shoving the thermometer back into my mouth. How did this stupid thing even work? I was a werewolf, I wasn't supposed to get sick! 

As I waited to confirm that I was still feverish, I plotted my next move.

No part of me was interested in actually being with my mate. 

But if I had to have her to get my Alpha position, I would have her bent over in bed before she could thank me for the privilege of being 'mine', and then I'd walk away once I was done.