Rain is pouring down heavily all around me. For every step I take, there is a new, brown puddle refilling my already heavy combat boots with more dirty water. I think a small rock has lured its way into one of them, too, but I’m not sure. My feet are numb, so I don’t feel the pain. They’re cold, wet and they’ll definitely hurt in the morning, but I can’t stop yet. I need to get at least halfway through this forest first.
The dirt road beneath me is slippery and muddy, yet I still haven’t fallen down and ruined my clothes. I hope I don’t either. They’re the last pieces of clean clothes that I have. A pair of very distressed jeans, exposing more of my pale thighs than I want to admit, making them freezing cold, even though my blood is naturally a lot warmer than everyone else’s, are covering my legs. Or, almost covering them, at least. I have a tank top, too, and a knitted sweater that my grandmother gave me for my fifteenth birthday. I’ve been careful to wear it, since I don’t want it ruined, but now it’s all I’ve got left. It’s a beige brown color, with my name embroidered into the back of its neck, where the tags on bought clothes would sit. It’s perfect. And I hope I can find a river to wash my other clothes, soon, so I can let this one take a breather.
I tighten the straps on my backpack. They tend to slip a little when it rains, and I’ve dropped the whole thing more than once before. So I’ve got to make sure I don’t do that again. I then pull some of my now dark copper-y, almost brown hair behind my ear, before looking forward towards the road again. My hair is normally a very vibrant shade of red, but when it’s wet it gets darker, and loses the vibrancy. I don’t mind. It makes it easier to walk past people without getting noticed. I don’t want to get noticed either. Someone might recognize me.
It’s a wonder no one has, but I don’t dwell on it too much. I like to think about it as luck, and I’m not one to turn away from that. I need it more than most, being alone and all. I’ve been on my own, homeless, wandering from town to town for five years now. Ever since my fifteenth birthday, when my body started changing. My grandmother didn’t mind and told me everything would be fine, but I’m not sure she understood what I told her and my “parents” that day. Every bone in my body suddenly broke and changed, and when I looked into my bathroom mirror, I was not human. I know now what I am, but back then? Hah, I was stupid enough to tell my parents after I changed back and they kicked me out. Their little charity case was no longer welcome.
After I ran from the city, they reported me missing. I saw them in a news-segment in a diner a few weeks later, and they begged me to come back. I don’t think they meant it. I think they just wanted to look good for media. I wasn’t their biological child, anyway. They adopted me when I was about two years old, and left me to grow up among their servants and maids. The only person that really cared for me in that household was my grandmother. She was kind, loving and gentle, and she spend a lot of time with me. I loved her so much, but I had to leave.
I never stay in one place too long. It’s not safe. Especially not when I don’t know how to control myself during the full moon. I change, then, and I usually don’t know how, when or where it will happen. One would think I knew something about this after five years, but I don’t. Just that it happens every full moon, and that I usually end up hating myself after.
A loud siren brings me to my knees on the dirty ground, and I put my hands over my ears as I fall down. A shooting pain runs through my whole body, lingering in my knees that are without a doubt split open from the impact, and I grit my teeth. Stupid, fucking sound. Once it dies down, I look up to see a huge beast in front of me, breathing out of its dark snout so hard it’s audible, and a cloud of mist emerges from its nostrils.
I’m not afraid of it, though. I’m just as scary as this thing every full moon, and I know how to intimidate a normal wolf by now. Another one walks up behind it, and I growl at them. Warning them that I can put up a fight if I have to, even though I don’t know if I can when I’m human.
The two wolves look at each other, then they get up on two feet, and starts changing. It happens so fast, like the split second where they looked at each other was merely a segment of my imagination. My jaw is on the ground after the two seconds it takes them to transform into two men, just shy of thirty years of age, I would think. They both look intimidating, yet scary as hell. I have never in my life seen another human change into a wolf, just like me. Or the other way around, like now.
And definitely not without it being a full moon.
I’m dead. There’s no way I can fight these guys.
“Who are you, and what are you doing out here?” the tallest one of them asks me, crossing his arms firmly across his chest.
I glare at him. I don’t want to tell him anything. How can I trust them? They just showed me, a human, that they’re able to shift into wolves. I would never show a human that I can shift. I’d be signing my own death certificate, practically shoving myself into a coffin and nailing it shut.
“Come on, pups, what’s your name?” the other guy asks, stepping forward. This one has a lighter hair color than the one obviously in charge of the two, and a more laid back energy, too. “I’m not telling you freaks shit,” I spit, gritting my teeth at them again. “You’re abominations!” The laid back one laughs, while the bossy one flares his nostrils, and glares at me. “That makes you one too,” the bossy one says, and then he turns to his buddy. “I think she’s still in training.” “What? She’s gotta be older than eighteen,” the laid back one answers, “are you sure?” “Positive,” the bossy one mutters and looks back at me, sniffing the air close to me, as if I stink. I know I do, but he could be less obvious about it.. How rude. He then lunges forward to grab my wrist. I struggle against him, but it’s no use. Werewolves are fucking strong. I know since
I don’t really get the sudden change in Juan’s demeanor. It seemed like his son and son-in-law didn’t either, yet Marco showed me to a guest room on the second floor, where I had a private bathroom and a huge bed. He said I’d be staying there until Juan said otherwise. He also said he would ask his friend to lend me some clothes, so I now have a whole duffel bag of clothes inside the guest room. I decide to take a shower, and get into some of these clean clothes. I really need it. I’ve been washing up in rivers for too long, occasionally sneaking into a public pool or something, to use the showers there. It works, but nothing beats a real shower, like this. I undress myself before I walk into the bathroom. It’s small, but cozy, and the water is warm almost immediately after I turn it on, which is nice. Still, I find myself looking into the mirror. I haven’t in a long time, and I almost immediately regret it. I’m looking scrawny. Boney, even. My ribs are sticki
The house has the most amazing, lingering smell to it. It’s woodsy, mixed with the tiniest bit of exhaust, and a hint of a men’s cologne, similar to one I stole a few years back to cover my stench. It’s the perfect mix. I love the woods, it makes me feel so peaceful and content with life, no matter what comes next, and I’ve always had an interest in cars and their engines, so the smell of exhaust enthuses me. It’s wonderful, and I can’t help but flare my nostrils to figure out where it’s coming from. I’m pretty sure it’s strongest in the room next to mine, but it really is everywhere. Even down the stairs, through the living room and the kitchen. I sniff the air a bit, and I think the smell is coming from outside… “Yohanna!” Marco says, interrupting my thoughts. I turn my head towards him and he’s smiling at me. He is indeed more laidback than his brother-in-law. “Hello,” I say, smiling softly back at him. “Thank y
I wake up to a knock on the door, and I sit up, staring at the door in horror. His smell is everywhere, but I know I locked the door, so he hasn’t been in here. I hope. As the knocking continues, I get up from the bed, and walk over to the door, and slowly turn the lock around, before I open the door up. I brace myself as I look through the door, but it isn’t him. I exhale in relief as I look into Soraya’s kind eyes. “May I come in?” she asks, holding up a tray with two sets of breakfast on it, and I nod, stepping aside so she can come into the room. She walks through the room like she owns it, and I guess she does, but it’s a little intimidating, at the same time as it’s very calming and reassuring. She sets the tray down on the bed, and sits down on the edge, patting on the bedding next to her for me to sit down, too. I close the door again, and walk over the the bed, and crawl up into it.
“Don’t be silly, girl, it’s a wonderful idea. You’re in training right? But you don’t have a trainer. He’s really good, and even though you’re his mate, he won’t go easy on you,” she says, and smiles at me still. This woman doesn’t ever stop smiling, does she? “In training?” I question again. I feel so incredibly stupid, and I just want to know when the fuck I can move on so I don’t have to break this guy’s heart. If I walk away now, he won’t get sad, and we’ll move on with our lives. I internally groan as I reaAlbae my thoughts. I sound like I think I’m a catch, but in reality I’m just a loner. I’ve learnt to take care of myself, and while I would love to have a soulmate and someone to rely on, I can’t. “Can you shift at will? Use your powers whenever?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at me. I swallow. “N-no,” I stutter. “Perf
My eyes open up slowly, and they immediately meet with a pair of green ones, very much unlike his siblings’ eyes. I was expecting brown, but I guess he got his mother’s eyes. My breath has stopped, that’s safe to say, and I don’t really know what to do except stare into his eyes. They’re so beautiful, like two bright, shiny emeralds. One corner of his mouth quirks up into a half-smile as he looks back at me.After what feels like an eternity, I finally move my eyes to look at him, and not just his eyes. His skin is pale, just a little darker than mine, and he has a beard. My so-called soulmate has a beard, and I’m not repelled by it. It’s more like the opposite is happening, judging by the tickling feeling everywhere, even between my legs. I really want to wrap my arms around his neck and be even closer to him, but I can’t do that to myself. I need to leave soon.His short beard is dark brown,
“I’ve been looking for you since I turned fifteen. I was already finished with my training and I could focus on looking for you. I went everywhere. By the time I was twenty I had lost hope. I thought you were dead, that my mate had died before we met,” he says, his voice is a lot softer than before, but still deep, and the vibrations from his chest it sending shivers down my spine.“I don’t understand,” I whisper.I find myself leaning my cheek against his warm chest. He is so warm, even though it’s cold outside. He is very aesthetically pleasing, too, which is of course a bonus, but I’m still unsure if I even believe this. Did he spend five years looking for me?“What don’t you understand, little mate?” he asks.“Everything.”He sighs, but somehow his arms tighten around me.&ldquo
I turn around to face away from Azaire, and look at my surroundings. We’re in a clearing inside the never-ending forest. It looks almost like someone has made it this way, with the tree stumps scattered around, a log there, and a fire-pit in the middle. A few meters away from me is a treehouse, leaning against one of the bigger trees surrounding the clearing. It looks like it’s filled with comic books and toys, and I take a step closer to it, just to see if I’m right.“I used to come out here with dad when I was a kid, when he had patrol,” Azaire says, but he doesn’t move. “Dad and his beta, Paul, built it for me and Paul’s son Tyler, who is my best friend. You should meet him, and his mate. I have a feeling you’d hit it off.”I turn around and frown at him.“Just because I’m supposedly your mate, it means I’d become friends with your friend&rs