His Cursed Mate

Prologue

It was a clear, sunny day - no clouds to be seen in the sky. My mother and I were in the study, discussing finding my mate for what seemed to be the millionth time.

"So, I was thinking that we could take a trip to the neighboring colony next week..."

As she talked, I stared out the window of the study, catching a glimpse of my older brother Silas, outside talking with our father. That was odd. Silas stared at the ground with a solemn expression on his face as my father spoke to him. Silas was rarely ever serious.

"Eleanor! Hello?"

My head snapped back to my mother as she snapped her fingers in my face, seemingly trying to draw my attention back to her.

"Sorry, mom..." I mumbled under my breath, looking up to meet her eyes.

"Seriously, Eleanor - today is your eighteenth birthday, which means that you're able to
meet your mate now! Silas still has yet to find his mate, and we just want to ensure that
you're able to find yours sometime soon," she said, staring into my eyes with concern.

This is how she had been, ever since Silas refused to try and find his mate. He seemed to be convinced that the handsome he-wolf living in the house adjacent to ours was his mate, although the odds of him finding a mate of the same sex were slim to none. However, it didn't bother me in the slightest that he liked the neighbor boy. If anything, I was happy for him. Father had always been tougher on Silas than he was on me, and mother was just obsessed with having grandchildren.

"Mom, I know you just want what's best for me, but I'm really not in any hurry," I said to
her, giving her a small smile.

She gave me an exasperated sigh and frowned at me, shaking her head.

"Ell, I know you don't understand now, but you will understand when you find your
mate, trust me."

How could she ever expect to know what was best for me, when she couldn't even tell that Silas was madly in love with the neighbor? Then again, as werewolves, we could fall in love with anyone, but finding a mate was a completely different ballgame. Finding a mate was like falling in love, but multiplied by one thousand. Your mate is your one true person - the one that the Gods created just for you. Meeting them for the first time was supposed to feel like drowning and breathing for the first time all at once; at least that's how our mother liked to describe her and father's first meeting to us when we were growing up.

Before I had the chance to say anything else, my mother's familiar Lydia, walked into the study and nudged her hand with her snout. The two of them exchanged a look and I could only assume they were talking with one another, until they both looked outside to Silas and my father.

"Thank you, Lydia," my mother said to her familiar, before turning her gaze back to me.

Lydia bowed her head to my mother, seeming to nod at her. She then turned to meet my eyes and huffed, leaving the room.

I rolled my eyes. That dog had never liked me, even when I was a kid. She was quite the snooty thing; a standard poodle with an attitude. As werewolves, we receive a familiar when we turn sixteen. They are like our "wolf" counterparts, if you want to look at it that way. They mirror our human selves and act as channels for our powers - faster healing, the ability to shift, heightened senses, all the typical werewolf abilities. Without a familiar, a werewolf is unable to harness their abilities. The bond that a werewolf shares with their familiar is similar to that between mates, but it's more of a soulful bond, one in which the familiar is an advisor of sorts, guiding the werewolf in life. Werewolves and familiars are bonded for life, and the energy that the werewolf provides is what allows the familiar to live a prolonged life in comparison to the normal canines that humans keep as companions. If for any reason a werewolf dies or is killed, their familiar will also die. However, the opposite does not apply in the same sense - if a familiar is killed, their werewolf counterpart can live, but it's said that the severed bond will drive the werewolf to a point of insanity of which they cannot return from.