Love Me Better

Even at birth, I was second best-I suppose it was even before. I’m baby B, the second twin, the unnecessary extra child. Selene was planned and I know it’s not her fault, but because she beat me out of our mother’s womb by 6 minutes - my life is meaningless. Actually, I’m positive it’s not her fault, it’s all my mother’s.

My mother is a paradox and a cliché. She’s gorgeous and evil, manipulative and quiet. She doesn’t say much, but what she does, packs a punch. She is a social-climbing, narcissist, yet all I’ve ever wanted was for her to love me the way she does Selene.

Selene is more than just a golden child. She is the manifestation of all my mother’s hopes and dreams. She’s the spitting image of my mother. She has long black hair, piercing blue eyes, and delicate features. She’s stunning, she’s kind, and she always says the right thing at the right time. I can’t fault her for her perfections, I really can’t, because, despite our mother’s best efforts to alienate me, Selene has always loved me deeply and without bounds. Maybe she loves me because she’s genuinely better, maybe she does because we’re twins. I can’t ever be sure but I thank the moon goddess every night for giving me her.

When my mother was young she was a lowly omega cleaning the pack house. Her beauty opened a lot of doors for her, specifically the door to a pack elder. The Elder was a dear friend of the Alpha so when my mother became pregnant the same month as the Luna with the Elder’s child everyone was caught between excitement and disgust. Because we werewolves mate for life it’s very odd for even a widower to find a new partner, especially a much younger one. My mother isn’t an idiot though, she knew exactly what she was doing. Our father was old, rich, and incredibly wealthy. She used her demure manner and blatant sex appeal to wrap him around her finger. She’s petite and curvy with long curly black hair and the same piercing eyes Sel was blessed with. She only had to bed our father for 4 months before falling pregnant and moving from level 1 of the pack house to level 4. He tragically died 11 days after we were born. I like to think that for those 11 days, my dad loved me the way a child should be loved.

Every day since my mother, Ella, learned she was giving birth within months of the Luna, she’s prayed for her daughter to be the next Alpha’s mate. I don’t think it’s ever occurred to her that it could be me, instead of Selene, or that it could be neither of us, but I digress. She’s even named Selene after the Greek moon goddess as if this will signify her place as a Luna. We will all find out soon enough as we are all nearing our 16th birthdays. However, I don’t aspire to be a Luna and I don’t think Selene does either, but we dare not say a word. My mother has been chasing power and status her whole life. If we cost her ‘her’ place in the pack house upper floors she may die, or kill us, I don’t find the prior all that stressing, but the latter is more likely. If we are mated to lowly omegas we will be forced to move out of the pack house and into their homes and our mother will be expected to move with one of us. That would be her worst nightmare. Hell if we can’t bag the alpha, we better scheme our way into the beta’s bed.

I sometimes wonder who my mother’s fated mate was. I wonder if he’s still alive, or if she ever found him. She probably was mated to another omega and rejected him when she saw he was living in one of the cottage homes. I figure we wouldn’t exist if she’d accepted him and that thought makes my skin crawl. I think in a perfect world our mother would be kind and loving and with her mate. In a perfect world we never would have happened and that’s the part that makes me uncomfortable. How can I wish for a kind mother when I know I wouldn’t be alive if she wasn’t the shrew she is?

“Nixy!” My sister yells my horrible nickname. My real name is nyx, after the goddess of the night. The name is more horrible than the nickname, so I guess beggars can’t be choosers.

“Whattttttttt!” I shout through my and Selene’s shared door. We have conjoining rooms similar to a hotel. We have a rather large closet between us but pack houses are built with soundproofing in mind so we yell fairly freely.

“I don’t think I like any of the dresses mom chose for our party, help me please” she whined.

I groaned but begrudgingly stomped towards our closet. “Which options are yours?”

“You haven’t even looked at yours? Mother is NOT going to like that.”

“Why, I mean it doesn’t matter what I wear, you’re her star, or should I say her moon.”

“Well then ignore her, here are our options, as always I’m silver and your blue.” She lays out 6 dresses- 4 silver and 2 blue. I ignore the slight of getting less options and look them over. Hers are all floor length and shimmery. One is a halter cut impossibly low and I can’t help but shutter at how blatantly mom is pimping out Sel. The others are more modest but just as slinky. My favorite is more white than silver and the sequins almost create a gradient from white to silver, as If stars are at her feet. Mine are shorter and less seductive. The first is a long sleeve sheath dress that would hit right at my knees. The other is a sleeveless midi dress that would probably be too tight anyway. Both are plain old navy fabric.

“Yeah, these are honestly grossly obvious.” Is the only comment I can muster. “The white is a great option for you though, you’ll look ethereal.” I say in a sing-song voice, imitating my mother.

“I’ll try it on,” she was already stripping down before she got the word ‘on’ out of her mouth. I know she’s going to love it and is simply waiting for my approval to look ten times better than me. Although Selene is considerate and kind, she’s still like any other girl and wants to look amazing on her birthday and I can’t be angry that she doesn’t always consider I may feel the same way.

“I think I have an idea,” Sel smirks, “what if we dye this blue?” Her face is full of hope.

“No Sel, mom would kill us.” I look at her sternly.

“Come on, the sequence are sparse, it’ll be mostly navy and if I wear the slutty dress she probably won’t even notice.”

“Ouch.” Knowing our mother favors her more is one thing, but having her point it out hurts entirely different.

“Nixy that’s not what I meant, I’m sorry, I just- well you know how she is.”

“It’s fine, but don’t do anything stupid on my account, I don’t care what I wear.” I choke the lie out in a flat voice and at this point I don’t know if either of us will believe it. “I’m going to bed, I love you.” I kiss her cheek and make my way through our closet before she can protest.

“I love you to the moon and back.”

“I love you more than all the stars.”