The Defiant Claim - The Claim: Book 2 [LGBTQ+]

Sam’s hands trembled as he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

I didn’t ask for this.

I didn’t ask to be born defective.

Numbly, he shuffled past Eloise at the front desk as Dr. Waaban stepped up to her with a file in his hand.

“Sam,” the pack doctor called, looking over his reading glasses at him, “how are you doing?”

Swallowing down the hurt, Sam shrugged, barely lifting his head.

“His mate is giving him a hard time,” Eloise piped up. “He’s giving everyone here a hard time with his outbursts.”

Queasiness gripped him as he held his stomach and swayed from side to side.

“Sam?” Dr. Waaban glided swiftly around the desk and took him by the arm, guiding him to the closest empty bed and urging him to down next to him. “Deep breaths. In and out.” He breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly with him as the nausea ebbed. “Are you eating? When was the last time you had an injection? We agreed to up your dose when you began training.”

Sam curled his hands into fists in his lap, looking down at the tiled floor. A faint scent of bleach rose up from the shiny white surface and he tried not to gag on it. “Um, last week? Wednesday, I think.”

Dr. Waaban nodded. “We agreed on every five days, didn’t we? You’re a day late. I’ll call the kitchen and have someone bring over your dinner while I get your medicine. Wait here. I don’t want you going anywhere until your nausea has passed.”

Bending his neck in appreciation, Sam muttered a small, “Thank you,” before the doctor rose and left.

Unconsciously, he rubbed his arm where he would receive the shot as he let his eyes roam around the infirmary. Most of the beds were occupied with unconscious packmates, unidentifiable with all the bandages wrapped around them. Bags of saline hung next to each bed with tubes and wires hooked up to various machines. All but two patients had a family member at their bedside, reading, knitting, or staring at their phones. Their eyes glanced across the room at him in curiosity.

His stomach churned as he turned away and curled into himself.

His mate put those wolves in those beds...

He whimpered. Bile crept up his throat.

What would become of his mate now? How could they live together? He understood that his mate was surprised and outraged to find that Sam wasn’t female but he couldn’t hate him forever for that, could he? They were soulmates. The Moon Goddess created them for each other.

If it wasn’t for that stupid little y-chromosome, there would be no issue. Mikwam would have readily accepted him. He wouldn’t have pushed him away. He wouldn’t have raised his voice to the sky and sounded the battle cry that launched the attack against the pack.

All of those wolves’ lives hanging on by a thread were his fault. If he had only been female, he could have stopped his mate. He could have stopped the attack. He could have prevented all of this from happening.

If only he had been female, his mate’s life wouldn’t be hanging in limbo at Alpha’s command.

“Sam, relax.” A firm, but gentle, hand gripped his shoulder.

He looked up to meet the pack doctor’s concerned and empathetic eyes before lowering his own. He found his hands clenched tightly into the mattress, tuffs of cotton poking out from where his nails extended into claws and pierced through the thick material. His chest hurt. Bile lingered in the back of his throat and he couldn’t swallow it down.

“This is my fault.”

Dr. Waaban sighed and sat next to him. “What are you talking about?”

He whimpered again, hanging his head further down. “If I were female... I could have stopped him. I could have stopped all of this from happening.”

“Sam,” Dr. Waaban’s tone was stern but gentle, “what did Alpha and Luna say about taking responsibility for your thoughts and actions?”

“That I am the master of myself.”

“Right. You have the power to control your thoughts. You control your actions. You cannot access, change, or control the thoughts of others. You do not have the right to try and control others. What your mate says and does comes from himself, not you. He is the master of himself. He controls his thoughts and actions. Not you. Did he blame you in any way for his actions?”

“No...”

“Then why are you taking responsibility for his actions?”

Sam squirmed. He knew why. He always blamed himself, even though it was explained to him over and over.

‘You can’t help being born this way. It’s his issue, his problem, that he’s projecting onto you. It’s not your fault.’

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered.

“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. What you need right now is this injection, a shower, a solid meal, and a good night’s sleep.”

“And faith in the Goddess.”

Sam looked up at Alpha as he entered the infirmary, having caught the last bit of the doctor’s pep talk and adding his own two-cents.

Alpha Noodin sat down on Sam’s other side. “She gave you that extra chromosome for a reason.” His voice was low so only Sam and Dr. Waaban could hear. “Not to shame you, punish you, or have others look down on you. And if anyone can’t accept that, then that is their problem. Not yours.”

“I know,” Sam mumbled. Turning the attention off himself, he asked, “How’s Luna?”

“Struggling to keep food down.” Alpha patted him on the back. “Don’t you worry. She’ll be feeling more like herself in a few weeks. She hopes you will come and pay her a visit in the meantime. She’s worried about you.”

Sam bit his lip. Damn. It must be bad. “Okay. I will. I promise.”

Alpha gave him another pat on the back. “Good. I’ll let Dr. Waaban give you your shot while I speak with that mate of yours.”

Alpha was so casual, so at ease with himself and who he was about to face. How did he do it when Sam could hardly speak to his mate without stuttering and stammering every few words?

The clench of his fists before Alpha opened the door revealed the inner struggle that he rarely revealed to anyone.

Sam turned away, entrusting his alpha with his mate—their enemy—as the pack doctor jabbed his arm with the needle.

“Don’t put it off next time,” Dr. Waaban said as he rose to return to his other patients. “Not even by a day. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

Sam nodded, rubbing his sore arm. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Sit back and relax. Your dinner should be here soon. Try and eat something.”

Obeying, Sam kicked off his flip-flops and scooted back on the bed.

He hated getting the shots, but they were necessary. No one knew about his condition until they ran some tests before his fifteenth birthday. He started feeling better after receiving monthly injections. Once he turned eighteen, the dose was upped to once a week and then every five days shortly after when he began to train, his body needing more to meet with the physical demands.

His life started to come together around his fifteen birthday. Things that didn’t make sense became clear. Answers to questions he always had were readily available after he, Alpha, Luna, and Dr. Waaban looked into it and studied it from every available source. They even went to an informative seminar in the city outside their pack to learn more and ask questions.

Finally, his life made sense and he was given the tools needed to make the most of it.

It stayed a private matter. Sam didn’t even tell Cameron. He, Alpha, Luna, and Dr. Waaban tried to explain it to his family, but even then, their explanation only validated his father’s belief: that Sam was defective and would amount to nothing.

That was why he never returned to his parents’ house. He couldn’t live with people who, even when given scientific explanations, still could not accept him for who he was. Even now, after almost five years of living outside his parents’ house, he still found himself plagued with his father’s harsh words. He had to get out. He had to get away. And over time, his words plagued him less and less but they never completely disappeared.

Dr. Waaban was right; his dinner was carried over by someone working in the pack house’s kitchen a few minutes later. A bowl of heavenly smelling chicken noodle soup and freshly baked dinner rolls was placed before him. He couldn’t ignore the delicious aroma greeting his nose and making his stomach growl hungrily.

He broke one of the two rolls in half and dipped it into the steaming broth, saturating the soft interior with flavor before shoving it into his mouth. He had a few bites when the door to the backroom open and Alpha stepped out.

Sam froze mid-chew as his eyes met Alpha’s only to look away in submission. As Alpha approached, he chewed and swallowed the bread as his stomach churned. Hanging his head, he waited for Alpha to speak.

“Rage blinds and consumes him. Suffering is all he knows.” A warm hand touched his shoulder. “Be patient, kind, and gentle—but also firm. I will grant him a chance for your sake but he will not go unpunished for what he has done.”