The Most Explosive Novel Since Fifty Shades of Grey

by BY LENA   Jan 17, 2023

In “The Alpha’s Rejected Silent Mate,” Cat Smith introduces us to Winter, a young woman steeped in hardship and emotional torment. Blamed for her mother’s death by her own family and rejected by her mate, Winter is no stranger to life’s cruelties. An unexpected turn of events leaves her mute and distrustful, driving her to flee from the pain of her past. Her journey takes an unexpected turn when she encounters her second chance mate, a figure as intriguing as he is comforting. Can he breach Winter’s silent fortress and restore her faith in love and herself? This gripping story is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, where trust in oneself and others may just be the key to unlocking happiness and love.

CHAPTER 1

Winter’s POV
I stare into his eyes and I don’t even bother trying to struggle when I feel his hands wrap around my neck, instead staring up at what I see as a monster, as he tries to strangle the living breath out of me, my blue eyes swimming with unshed tears as he tightens his grip. Another punishment, another day. “Stupid b***h” my father snarls and I say nothing, lying there like a limp rag doll as he finally lets go, breathing heavily and coughing as I roll over and try to breathe some oxygen into my lungs. I felt a sudden sharp pain in my rib cage and closed my eyes, knowing that he’s kicked me once again and struggled to my feet, knowing that he’s most likely cracked one of my ribs or even more. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last. “I can go and get you your drink now”, I splutter, my throat now extremely sore, and he backhands me as I taste blood on my lip, a hand to my face as my cheek begins to throb. God that hurt. “Do it you stupid cow” he mutters, heading over to our threadbare couch and plonking himself down on it, his legs on the coffee table as he settles himself, turning the television on as I limp into the kitchen to fetch him his beer. He takes it without a word and I wait, dreading what he’s about to ask of me and knowing that if I don’t get it done in time, that I’ll face even more severe punishment. You’re probably wondering what I’ve done to deserve this type of treatment from my father, and I can tell you, it’s because he blames me for my mother’s death. My mother died protecting me against a rogue when I was a small child and ever since then, I’ve suffered abuse from my father and even my older brother Damien, who blames me for it. Nothing I say or do makes them stop and I’ve since stopped trying. Maybe I do deserve this. My mother would still be alive if it wasn’t for me. “Listen you ugly useless girl” my father snaps from his seat, the beer bottle now empty and he waves his hand at me as though letting me know, even as I flinch from his harsh tone. I’m used to the insults, but for some reason, I can’t explain I still react to them. It still hurts me, deep inside, to have my own father treat me this way.“Go and cook me some dinner already and get me another beer” he cries, throwing the bottle at me. I dodge just in time, dismayed when it smashes into the wall and shatters everywhere. Now I have yet another mess to clean up on top of everything else, not that he cares. I’m just a maid to him and my older brother. A servant if you will. I gave him the beer and headed into the kitchen, perusing the meager contents. Whatever food we have is because I get it before the money runs out from my father’s constant drinking. Finally, I settled on chicken and salad, doing my best to make a decent hearty meal out of so few ingredients. I, of course, put just a sliver of food on my plate, anything more and he’ll throw it out and tell me I’m too fat to be eating. If he doesn’t, then I know that Damien will. He copies my father in an attempt to get his approval and makes my life just as much of a living hell. Apparently, thank goodness, the dinner I make is acceptable because all I get is a grunt as I hand it over, before dropping to my knees and picking up the shards of glass scattered everywhere. There are so many of them and I cringe as I cut my hand on a small sliver of glass. So far, Damien has yet to come home, something that is not too unusual, and I’m extraordinarily grateful. Because as bad as my father is to me, my older brother is far worse and not only torments me at home but also at school, where there is no escape for me. It’s like a game to him. My father never picks on him, in fact, adores his only son. Lucky Damien. The only person he hates is me. I feel a tear well up in the corner of my eye. My life means nothing to me anymore. All my hopes and my dreams? All I can focus on is getting the hell away from this useless pack and studying at a college where no one can find me. Because if I don’t do that, then there’s every likelihood that at this rate I’m going to end up dead. Why don’t I tell the Alpha and Luna you ask? Because they are friends of my father’s and we live on the edge of the territory line, far away from everybody else, so no one ever hears me scream, or whimper. I’m never taken to the hospital, so there’s no record of abuse. I want so badly to run away from all of this but there’s nowhere for me to go. I have no other family, no friends, and no hope. Everything has been taken away from me. Once upon a time, my brother adored me, but now he and his friends take pleasure in torturing me and my life is a complete and utter nightmare because of those who are meant to love me the most. My own family. My name is Winter and I’m seventeen years old. This is my story, my life, my pain. Family used to mean everything to me, but now I wish that my father was dead and sometimes even Damien too. I’m so full of hatred that it’s all I can do to hide it instead of letting it loose. I will never truly be free until I leave this life and god help me, I hope it’s soon.

CHAPTER 2

Damien POV
It’s night time and I’m hanging out with my best friends and laughing at their stupid jokes, beer in hand, all of us in the forest and blatantly smoking weed while drinking. Like we give a s**t if one of the patrols comes across us. Hell, it’s not like dad cares what I do. “Hey bro” my best mate, Thomas says, tossing me another one. “how’s your sister going,” he teases me and I roll my eyes. Even to me, it’s plainly obvious that he’s got a bit of a crush on her. Not that I’ll let him near her. Yuck. “She’s not my sister” I snapped back, thoroughly irritated, “and you know it. She’s the reason my mother is dead and I hate her”, I exhaled, taking a sip of my beer while my other friend Dylan chortled. “I gotta say, man, she’s hot stuff though,” he says, and I turn to him threateningly. “What do you mean by that” I hiss and he shut up instantly, recognizing that he’d gone too far. I’m not being protective of my sister, on the contrary, but that doesn’t mean they can make remarks about Winter like that either. “Stay away from her” I countered, “she’s nothing but trouble. Just ask my father” I add darkly, “the only thing she’s good for is housework”, I mutter, and they nod, content to sip their beers and say nothing at all, just chill and hang out. It’s far more relaxing in any case than going home, that’s for sure. “Damnit, Man, I had better get back before mother comes looking”, Dylan says bitterly with a scowl “she’s been on my case since we all got suspended from school”, he adds, speaking sarcastically, and I give him a sympathetic look as he ambles off. In my case, my father could care less what happened when it came to my school work, let alone if I bothered to do it, which in itself was a blessing. All he cares about is f*****g Winter and what she’s done to both of us. “How about you dude?” I asked Thomas, wanting him to stay a little longer with me. But he just sighs and puts out his blunt, looking regretfully at me. I guess he even has trouble with his parents. “Same, my parents are none too pleased about the suspension either,” he says grimly, “dad threatened to kick the s**t out of me, not that he would, of course, but it makes him feel better about it if it looks like he cares.” I grimace. I have met Thomas’s parents and they aren’t exactly a cakewalk either. “What are you going to do tonight?” asked Thomas as I put out my own blunt and took a swig of my beer, effectively finishing it in one gulp. I raise my eyebrows at him and shrug my shoulders, not really fussed about what I’m doing. I finally get to go to school tomorrow after a week away and I can’t think of anything better than seeing poor defenseless little Winter being bullied by my friends and the popular group at school. I wonder if she’s still up or if she’s gone to bed, if dad is drunk, just like any other night. “I guess I’ll go home,” I said with a sigh, “maybe I’ll get lucky and Winter will still be up to tease”. I add laughing to myself just a little at the thought and, of course, Thomas laughs, clapping me on the back and walking away as I throw the beer bottle on the floor and smash it, walking in the opposite direction. I know I’ll have to head home, there’s no point staying out here by myself, especially since all of the beer has been drunk and the weed smoked. But I also know what to expect when I get home and I’m not looking forward to it. My dad can be a right asshole when he’s flat-out drunk, which is almost every single night. Sometimes he’ll yell insults at me, but the majority of the time he’s screaming at Winter. She bears the brunt of it and has been since she was five years old and our mother died. Part of me felt sorry for her initially, but now all I can see is my mother’s grave in my mind and the feeling passes. I put my hands in my jeans pockets and began to saunter towards the house, taking my sweet time as though I could prolong it for as long as possible. I cringe at the thought of having to carry dad to his bedroom again. Lately, his drinking has gotten worse and I know, Winter probably as well, that it won’t be too long until the old man loses yet another job due to his drinking. It wouldn’t be the first time, but he’s always worse when that happens. I shudder, maybe I’ll get lucky tonight and he’ll have passed out in his room, that would be a blessing in itself. As I walked back towards home, I suddenly came to the realization that none of my schoolwork due the next day had been done and gave a wry smile. It looks like there’s something I can make Winter do for me after all. She was smarter than I was and easily got me good grades when I made her do my homework. If she was sleeping, I would just wake her up. After all, it’s not like she really has a choice. She’d do as I say or face the consequences. I might not be as forceful as dad can be, but Winter knows that it’s best to obey me and do whatever I give her. I smirked to myself as I opened the door and went in search of my little sister. “Oof” she cries out as I throw my backpack at her, and I barely spare her a glance. “Do my homework tonight” I snarled and ignored the defeated look on her face. She looks close to tears as I leave, but I harden my heart.

CHAPTER 3

Winter’s POV
I force myself to wake up early the next morning, in order to get ready for school. I’m so tired I can barely see straight and it’s all I can do to make myself get in the shower and get dressed. Damien came home late last night and insisted on me doing his schoolwork and when I didn’t move fast enough for his liking he punched me in the stomach, not to mention throwing his damn school bag at me. It was an extremely long night, spent doing my homework on top of his as well. God, I hate him. I couldn’t help myself, stopping to turn and look into the battered mirror atop my shabby dresser. I’m not surprised by the large dark circles under my eyes or the thinness of my figure. I hate the way I look and I know that I’m ugly. My face is pale, so white rather than porcelain, my eyes a dull blue, and my hair a frizzy blonde that’s long and lanky. No matter how much I washed my hair, it never seemed to make a difference. My clothes are ripped, hand-me-downs from op shops, jeans with holes in the knees, and a sweater twice the size of me that hangs down way past my knees. I didn’t really have anything better to wear and I put my threadbare sneakers on with a grimace. The bottom of them are thin from over-use and I know that one day soon I’m going to have to go and look around the thrift shops and find a new pair to use. I have barely got the bacon in the pan sizzling and pancakes going, when my father staggers in, looking pale and exhausted, his eyes red and puffed up as he sits there, impatiently waiting for his food. He looks a mess and I hope he cleans himself up before going to work because, at this rate, he’ll lose his job. Not that that seemed to bother him though. “Here’s your coffee,” I said very quietly, placing it beside his elbow and vehemently hoping he would just drink it this time instead of flinging it away. Apparently, he was too tired to do that this time and he drank it down without a qualm or complaint. Damien also staggered in and sat down at the table, glaring at me while he waited, drumming his fingers on the table as I hurried as best I could. Just once, I wish they would get off their lazy backsides and give me a damn hand. It wouldn’t exactly kill them to help, would it? Besides, he is old enough to make his own breakfast for heaven’s sake. I don’t dare tell him that though, I’m not exactly in the mood for another bruise. “Here,” I tell them softly, placing their large plates in front of them and going back to the bench where my one measly piece of bacon and a slice of toast waits. It’s not even enough to touch the sides of my hunger, but I don’t dare take any more in case they see me. I stop short when Damien gets up from the table and comes over, eyeing me maliciously. He’s up to something, I just know it and I feel a sense of dread rising inside of me. I try to keep my expression blank so he doesn’t see or sense my fear of him. “What do you think you’re doing,” he says, and I eye him curiously, my heart already beginning to thump wildly in my chest, anticipating what’s about to happen as I hold my breath. “Eating breakfast”, I say nervously, and before I can stop him, his hand shoots out and sends the plate flying to the floor as I stare at him and the broken plate in dismay. What the hell? “Oops,” he says slyly “guess you’re going without fatty again”, he tosses out as he sits and begins to devour his own delicious breakfast. I said nothing. I’m not fat, in fact, I’m anything but, considering I very rarely get to it. But, after all, what would be the point? Damien can do whatever he likes to me and my father will never once step in and stop him, not when he approves of what my brother does to me. I keep my tears to myself, my stomach growling with hunger. I take a deep shuddering breath and bend down to pick up the pieces of the broken plate. I salivate at the sight of the bacon and toast on the floor but they are covered in dirt and would be disgusting to eat. I force myself to throw them in the bin. A sharp piece of shard slices my finger and I watch the blood drip down in fascination. It doesn’t even hurt, nothing does anymore, and I clean it on my sweater as I pick the shards up, sadly knowing that this was to be my only food until dinnertime and that I would be starving hungry again today. Dad and Damien don’t care, hurrying out of the dining room when they’re finished and leaving me to clean up before I can grab my own school bag and walk to school. Damien’s already left in his car, for which I’m extremely grateful, as I don’t have to worry about what else he might do to me next, and so has my father, who never even says a word to me, not that I expect him to anymore. This leaves me to take my time, wanting to prolong the experience for as long as possible. The school which used to be a sanctuary when I was smaller has now become my own hell, a place for bullies and my brother to torment and make fun of me, and I know exactly what I’m facing, my whole body trembling in fear as I began to traverse through the corridors and make it to class, with the hopeful thought that maybe today would be different and that I would be left alone for once. It was a futile hope.

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