The Golden One

Say It

My eyes flutter open and I groan at the pain pulsing through my head. Rolling over I groan again, reminded of the misadventures of the night before.

Removing the heavy arm from my bare waist, I peel myself from the shabby bed of yet another crumby motel room. I should stop picking men up in dive bars if I want a nicer place to stay. Quickly, I throw on last nights clothes and leave the nameless human I've bedded the night before without a second thought.

Stumbling into the closest diner, I sit and order the largest and greasiest breakfast, a jug of water and several cups of coffee. The waitress looks over me from head to toe, her blatant judgment washing over me while I can practically hear her distasteful assumptions of me. I growl lowly under my breath and that seems to do the trick as she scurries away to sort my order.

Pulling out my diary, I sigh heavily looking at my schedule. One visit to go.

Over the last three years, I have travelled the world visiting packs. I knew that wolves needed to be healed. I knew that I couldn't stay at the Night Shade pack any longer. And I knew that Alaric was very well connected and respected, even across the world.

I travelled to the worst affected areas first, offering my support to packs treating diseased wolves. I would often stay for a week or so before moving on to another pack. I wanted to help the diseased wolves while escaping my demons. I thought it would help me reconnect with the part of me that was nurturing and caring, the part of me that was a True Alpha.

The packs treated me well and all were welcoming of the mighty Golden One. At each pack I put on a show, trying to project the former version of myself; the kind and caring Meila who had time for anyone who needed me.

They always ask to see my wolf and I oblige, although this is the only time she has come out in these last years. She does her part in the Golden One performance but at all other times, she is silent, in hibernation at the pain of losing her perfect mate. Her movements are sluggish and she too is a shadow of her former self. We are two broken beings tumbling through life together.

Our struggles are due to unprocessed traumas. Instead of dealing and coming to terms with the torture, betrayals and deaths I have endured, I push them down, forcing myself to stumble through life in a haze on numbness. I refuse to let any more pain in, opting instead for a feeling of emptiness.

I miss Christopher every day. I'm sad that we didn't get out forever. I'm angry because I know he deserved better. And I love him, now and forever. But I know that he is gone and it's all because of me.

To outsiders, everything is normal. I smile and chat as if nothing is wrong. My wolf is still larger, faster and more able than most. And because of my talents and my looks, the male attention at each pack was unwavering.

I find myself fielding off advances from single Alphas hoping they will be my second chance mate. Though the concept of second chance mates is so rare, and really do I deserve another chance? They fawn over me as if I were some gift from the Moon Goddess; the saviour of the Werewolf species. The shameless courtship only leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, none turn my head or cause even the slightest flutter in my stomach. I politely decline, not even enticed by the thought of bedding one of the strong and powerful Alphas that fall at my feet; it would be messy to get involved with another wolf.

I haven't slept with a werewolf since— well I just haven't slept with another werewolf. Humans, however, I've lost count. They are easy prey and even easier to leave behind, no strings attached.

It's obvious I am trying to fill out the void inside me with booze and one night stands. I'm self-aware enough to know that's what's happening and have no shame in what, and who, I've done. It distracts me, it fulfils my needs and I occasionally get a good lay out of it.