Alpha Sebastian's Hybrid Mate

Astrid

The downpours of the icy snow fell steadily on my head as I cherished every moment the snow brought. It had been long since Yormsborg experienced a snowfall, or maybe I had longed again for it after the last one. The chilling breeze the snow brought elevated me as it brought an eradicating feeling. For a moment I had forgotten my torment and anguish.

Immediately, a whip cracked on my back. The lash sent bolts of electricity jolting down my spine as it worked up my nerves to my brain, producing an enormous amount of pain, like I had just been pierced by a thousand needles. Although the feelings were a familiar one, the pains were always something to committing suicide.

"Senteal 215!" A voice roared. It was none other than my Housemaster, Hudson. An Omega slave in charge of the Senteals. The Senteals were slaves to higher slaves, and my Housemaster was one of the higher slaves.

"Have you lost your mind, 215?" Hudson roared, in his deep-breaking voice.

As slaves of slaves, we were not allowed to go buy our names, nor were we allowed to reveal our faces on any occasion. Severe punishments were sent out to any who were found wanting as some were killed in the process.

Our lives meant nothing. The Senteals were the worst of the worst, comprising mostly those who had little or no wolf, as they were of no use to civilization and had to be taken up by higher slaves, to earn a living. I was the most hated and disgusted of the Senteals.

Not only did I not possess a wolf, but I had mixed blood, one from the wolf's sworn enemies: the vampires. One of my birth parents would have to be a vampire, but not that I cared for. I was hated and resented for it, even by my fellow Senteals who would look for the slightest reason to get me in the bad books of the Housemaster. Only Merabeth, my best friend, stood by my side.

****

"Forgive me, Housemaster. I got carried away by the snowfall." I tried explaining myself to him to prevent another whiplashing, but the look on his face did not care at all.

"And what business is yours with that of the snowfall?" He questioned, looking me dead in the eyes.

Hudson was a scornful man. His body was built for the smallest flick in tension. His short and broad nature gave him the slightest reason to resort to violence. He handled the whip perfectly well.

"Nothing Housemaster," I replied, returning to my duties as I went looking for Merabeth. She was by the water side in the Douglary where she was attending to the higher slaves.

"201!" I called out. She turned her head swiftly as her eyes lit up when they settled on me. It came to a realisation that I had never seen her face before but would recognise those green eyes and full eyelashes any time of the day.

"Astrid!" She called. I turned my head around to make sure no one had heard her, as I would be in grave danger of revealing my name to her. Merabeth had done the same as she knew of the implications of doing so, but she had said it out of joy.

It gladdened my heart that she called me by my name and not my given number. At least I had a friend to go through the torments with. The number of suicidal thoughts that had flowed through my mind over the years. The thoughts of ending it all were not far from my mind.

Merabeth was the pin in my suicidal plug. No matter how hard I tried, I could not pull that pin out. Having to see her and hear her another day gave me hope and reason to continue living, although the world was against my everyday breathing.

"What are you doing? Where is your tray?" Merabeth questioned me. "You know Husdon hates it when we come up idle."

"You there!" Lyra, the Housekeeper, one of the Higher slaves called out as she pointed to me. I hated being torn apart from Merabeth but I had no choice unless I wanted to feel Hudson's whip again.

She passed a tray containing some delicacies as she sent me deeper into the Douglary, near the great Halls to serve. Immediately a scent crossed my nostrils.

My world narrowed to one intoxicating fragrance. It wrapped around me like a long-forgotten memory. It was raw, untamed-spiced cedarwood with a whisper of dark honey, an aroma so potent it made my insides stir, clawing to get closer, to claim and be claimed, to belong.

The honeycomb scent was coming from the great Halls. I had forgotten where I was directed to serve as I took the trail and went in search of the sweetest fragrance I had ever come across. The intoxicating feeling arrested my mind as it made me a slave to it.

It filled my thoughts, crumpled my muscles, and made me thirst after it. I was lost, all I wanted at that moment was to have a taste of it, even though it would cost me my life. I was determined to get to it. I pulled through the different people in the halls, not looking at any of them with only my nostrils leading the way.

I could not quite understand what was happening to me. It only came as a shock when a whip cracked hard on my back. I screamed as I went down on the floor. Only one person cracked a whip like that, Hudson.

I went down on both knees, clutching tightly to my back as I cried bitterly to the stinking pain it produced. My thoughts roamed as to what exactly my crime was. Was it my fault for being born this way? Hudson's whip had its way of bringing out the deepest of emotions as I cried uncontrollably.

"That smell," one of the highborns said, as I slowly regained my thoughts as to where I had ventured into.

"Kill it," said another.

I could hear Hudson's whip retracting, ready to pounce on me again. But I stayed still, sobbing from the previous whip. I was ready to embrace the worst, no, I was ready to die at that moment. Maybe death would be more peaceful than living.

In my brief moment of terror, waiting for the second whiplashing, blood splattered all over me and on the floor as Hudson dropped to the floor, blood gushing out of his throat where four slashed marks appeared. He was dead.

The whole room erupted, people gasping at the unreal sight before them. I was confused. I had embraced death but it had found someone else. Who would come to my rescue, a slave to other slaves?

Just then, He walked up to me. The scent I had perceived was coming from him. It was more intense than before. I lifted up my eyes slowly to him as I saw blood dripping from his right hand. He killed Hudson.

But why? I could not understand. Not until he said,

"No one touches my mate."