The Cursed Gift (Shifter, Vampire, Romance)

My mood is as overcast as the weather when I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. Knowing I can’t put the day off any longer, I rise from my bed, stretching the night’s kinks from my muscles. It’s been a while since I last went for a run, so the stiffness is to be expected. Not to mention my crappy mattress, not helping things. Moving my head side to side to ease the ache in my neck, I cast my eyes around my studio. The term ‘studio’ is generous. It’s a cramped room in the basement of the back pub. Riddled with damp, mould colours the walls like cheap Halloween decorations. It’s rancid, it’s depressing, and unfortunately, it’s home. It has been for the last three years, since I turned sixteen and left the pack orphanage. Usually, the pack looks after those who lose their families due to no fault of their own; however, I am an exception. I didn’t receive a house, a job or any of the other supports that pack has for those with nothing. Because in the pack’s eyes, I deserve everything that befalls me. Why? Because I was born. Simple.

I was born with a Mark of Bane, a bad omen. My mark, the mark of Sight, is the one that carries the most fear. While I have yet to show any signs of this unique ability, the mere presence of the mark was enough to drive both my parents to suicide not long after I was brought into the world. Their ‘sacrifice’ was seen as an act of penance for cursing the pack. So they are remembered as selfless heroes, victims of fate’s cruelty. Meanwhile, I’m seen as a curse, and no one wants anything to do with me. So, I hold the position of Omega within the pack. The lowest of the low. The one they wished they didn’t have but can’t get rid of.

Even at mid-morning the winter rain batters my only window. The noise a calming soundtrack to my self-hatred. Reluctantly I roll back my thin duvet and drag myself out of bed into my sorry excuse for a bathroom. I turn the shower on an undress while it warms. It doesn’t get super, scorch your skin off hot like I wish it would. Instead, it’s lukewarm at best. I quickly wash myself with the cheapest soap I can find. I can’t afford separate shampoo, conditioner and body wash, so I just got the cheapest men’s soap. If its good enough for the opposite sex, then its good enough for me and at 99p a bottle I really can’t complain. Once I’m convinced, I don’t smell of moldy linen, which given the state of my place, is almost guaranteed first thing in the morning, I exit the shower and begin the rest of my daily routine. I may be the lowest of the low in the pack hierarchy but that doesn’t mean I can’t take pride in myself. Using the cheap hair mousse I found at the town pharmacy, I run it through the lengths of my hair, twisting the ends round my fingers ensuring my natural, brown curls are defined and my frizz under control. I’m pulling on my faded Aerosmith T-shirt (thank you Oxfam!) when there’s a single bang on my door. It’s not unusual for drunk strangers to mistake my basement for a bathroom or a storage cupboard they can hook up in. But that’s usually later, when the pub upstairs is open for business. At ten o’clock in the morning it’s still a little early for the usual drunk shenanigans of the town’s people.

As I approach the door, my senses are on high alert. I have long since learned not to trust the unexpected. Taking a deep breath, I try to scent the people on the other side but it’s no use. All my wolf nose is picking up is mold, mold and more mold. I pull open the door just a crack and peer out, my breath immediately catching in my throat.

On the other side of the door is the packs future Beta, Damian and his merry band of enforcers.

“Can I help you?” I ask. I know its rude and extremely against protocol but there is no chance in hell I’m opening this door any more than I already have.

“We are under direct orders from the Alpha to come and apprehend you. You will come with us now and you will do so calmly, quietly, and of your own volition.” Damian’s voice is cold and flat. Pretty much like his entire personality from what I can tell. While we are around the same age, his position, or rather his future position, in the pack means that we’ve never really crossed paths all that much.

After all, kings don’t eat off the floor with peasants and all that.

“Apprehend me? Have I done something wrong?” Damian doesn’t answer, doesn’t even blink. Fucking weirdo.

After a few seconds of staring at him, wishing he and merry band of non-welcomes would leave, I let out a sigh. “Let me grab my coat.”

“Don’t bother, you won’t need it,” he says pushing his foot through the gap forcing the door to open wider. I back up as he crosses the threshold. I’m not stupid enough to try and stand up to these guys. They’re the packs equivalent to the police and are sworn to uphold pack law. Which means they answer to the Alpha. The same Alpha that hates my guts because I exist. And that same Alpha whose son just so happens to be my fated mate and also hates me because…well, it’s me. From the moment the bond formed a few months ago during a solo late-night run, Alex has done everything he can to avoid me. Which isn’t hard considering we barely had anything to do with each other before. I only know he’s avoiding me because that’s the only logical explanation for not acknowledging a fated bond.

I back up all the way until the back of my knees hit the edge of my mattress. Damian following until he’s in the middle of the small room. He doesn’t say anything, but his face scrunches up in distain. “Disgusting” is all he says be for reaching for my arm. I don’t bother to avoid the contact, even as he pulls me round and twists my arm against my back. It hurts but the pain is manageable. I don’t say a word as he hauls me through my front door. There’s no point, no one is stupid enough to stand up to the enforcers. However, my wolf is that stupid and I have to bite my lip to stop her from releasing a snarl.

Once we are street level, another enforcer zip-tie’s my hands together and takes over marching me through the street. Damian taking his more senior position in front. They stay like this, marching me through the streets to the meeting hall.

The pack’s meeting hall is an annex to the Alpha family’s main house. Smaller than the main house, it was big enough to fit most members of the pack at once, so it was used as the official meeting place for pack announcements and events. The fact that this seems to be our destination, tells me that I have royally pissed off the Alpha.

Whatever it is that I’ve done.

I’m escorted by the arm through the large double doors to the front of the hall. We pass by other members of the pack; their stares filled with the usual disgust. I avoid their stares and keep my head down. I’m used to the looks, just not this many at once.

Eventually we reach the stage. The door that leads to the hallway that connects the annex to the Alpha residence in front of us. The door is code locked and only a select few are afforded the honour of knowing the code. Being the mate of the Apha’s son, had my position in the pack been any different, I would be one of them. But I’m an Omega who bares the mark of the cursed. It would be too convenient for my mate to acknowledge the bond between us. Not that I’m sat here pining for him or anything, he’s a prick.

Or that’s what I keep telling myself.

“Kneel and bow your head” Damian barks at me as I’m escorted up on to the stage. It isn’t very high. One or two steps but enables whoever is on it is on view no matter the viewpoint. I do as I’m told and bend my knees. As soon as they hit the floor my body lights up an awareness overtakes me.

He’s here.

Alex has arrived.

With my head bowed, my eyes search him out and find him leaning against the wall next to the door. He wasn’t there a few seconds ago so he must have just entered from it. Unconsciously, my eyes drink in the sight of him. His black hair a stark contrast to his light blue eyes. His skin is pale, not as pale as a vampire but far lighter than is normal for a wolf shifter. I’ve always noticed that about him, even before we were mates because it's something we have in common. Although my pasty skin is most likely a sign of malnourishment and neglect, while his is the result of Hollywood-worthy DNA.

He is quite the sight standing there, with his My Chemical Romance tour shirt stretching over his bulging biceps as his arms cross in front of his equally bulging pecs. His muscular thighs are barely contained in his acid washed jeans, as his legs cross at his ankles. My wolf howls at the sight of him, wanting nothing more than to throw herself at his mercy and wait for him to take her.

I have to call him all the derogatory terms I know to keep myself from drowning in her need.

As if sensing my gaze, he looks over and our gaze’s meet. Unlike other members of the pack, as his mate I’m no longer met with the same urge to look away. The fated bond our wolves share makes us equal. The pack wouldn’t see me as an Alpha until he marked me but between the two of us, he has no more sway over me than I do over him. Well, if you take away my wolf’s hormones that is.

I’m determined not to let her attraction overwhelm me; I straighten my spine.

But I can’t stop my tongue as it travels across my lips.

For a split second his eyes flare, before he moves his gaze to my ear, subtly breaking our connection. I fight the urge to raise my eyebrow. Who would have thought a mere Omega like me could make the future Alpha avert his gaze. The very suggestion would make me even more of a laughingstock than I already am.

At some point during our staring contest, I must have raised my head because the enforcer behind me tuts and roughly shoves my head back down, holding it there with his heavy palms.

There's a rhythmic booming from behind the door before its roughly thrown open. The pack members looking on and the enforcers all stiffen while my body breaks out in a sweat.

Alpha Kenan has arrived