CHAPTER 2: My Mate Is a Cold - Ass Bastard Who Thinks He Can Fuck Anything He Wants.
I’m left with nothing. I feel like a plucked bird, ready for roasting. The feathers are my feelings, my possessions, and the bird is the monster inside of me. Everyone took off the feathers for their own benefits, one by one by one, until there were none left.
Where can I replenish my beautiful, colorful feathers?
That’s a question I don’t think anyone can answer.
I punch the punching bag over and over again, my arms burning and my knuckles stinging, still relishing the feel of the tough fabric hitting my skin. Nothing mattered around me. It was as if someone had shut off all of my senses, leaving nothing but waves of exhaustion and pain to wash over me and muddle my brain.
When I finally manage to recollect myself, breaking away from the trance I had been in, I take the chance to look at myself in the full-length mirror in front of me.
I look like shit.
My mahogany hair is a big mess, clumps of them sticking to my face. Sweat trickles down the sides and I make no attempt to wipe them away. The three scars from that terrible day sit on my waist, a constant reminder of the night that ruined my life. I’m caked in sweat and bruises, along with the red pools of blood on my knuckles. The small tattoos that I have picked up here and there over the years are the only thing that looks “human” enough on my body: a few on my wrists and arms, three on my feet, the ravens underneath my right breast and the one quote surrounding my scar: “She believed she could, so she did.” I had a few other scars on the lowest part of my back from a series of bad events that happened after my parents had died. He’s an Alpha of another pack near here, and he was also one of the main reasons I left the back to go study at Harvard. I needed a breather. The pain of what he had done to me had never stopped, has never fully released its clutches on me. He, along with my parent’s and sister’s killers, ruined me. My body, mind, and soul.
Surprisingly, the scars haven’t healed and scabbed over like they normally should’ve. Sure, they were made by silver, but I was a Lycan. It should’ve healed after a few hours. I suppose it was because it happened to me before my wolf had fully matured or that the Moon Goddess wanted me to have a reminder of my past, and where I came from. What happened to me, and what I needed to do to avenge them.
I had been hitting the punching bag way too hard, way beyond the capacity of the tough leather bag itself. I should’ve been using protection but instead, the illogical side of me said that it would have been better if I didn’t.
I wanted to replace my emotional pain with some physical pain. They say it replaces the emotion that’s breaking you apart inside.
That’s pure bullshit.
Grabbing my things, I headed out of the gym and bite my lip nervously, not knowing where to go.
I can’t go back to the apartment. Liza’s there and I’d rather kill myself than ever go there again.
I can’t go to Blake’s place; my ex - boyfriend’s dead to me.
Friends? I left them all when I found out that they all knew about the affair and didn’t care to tell me.
And that leaves family.
Yeah . . . no. I can’t go to my parents. They’re dead.
I mean, unless I start living at their grave or some shit.
I don’t want to go back to the pack and meet my cousins and everyone again, but I might have to. The Red Blood Moon Pack, or the Millennium Wolves, is the best pack out of all of them. Everyone’s ancestors originated from here.
My parents . . . well, they were the alpha and luna, and both of them were Lycans - the most powerful, strong, and intelligent wolves to be ever made. Combined with their authority level and power that came with being alphas, well, they were unstoppable.
And yet, both of them were murdered by rouges, right in front of my eyes.
Every single night. Every single night, it comes back to haunt me. My first kill, the first time I ever shifted.
No one here, or in Boston, knows that I’m a Lycan . . . or a werewolf in general. Boston brought back memories of Blake, and of course, that was not allowed.
I totally need to get my shit together, fast. So what if I basically kicked myself out of my own apartment? So what if I’m alone? So what one of the only two people who I thought actually loved me betrayed me?
I can deal with it. I always have.
I’m not weak. I’m strong.
I’m a fighter.
I’m a Lycan.
I’m THE child of THE Millennium Wolf Alpha and Luna.
And after I’m done getting my life in order, Liza and Blake are going to pay.
And this time, they’ll be sorry they ever messed with me.
“IZZY!” I scream, tightly squeezing at the one person who never failed to make me smile.
“Raven!” she squealed. Izzy was my childhood best friend, before Mom and Dad died. Her dad was the beta, or the second - in - command. I had to leave her to go study in Boston because pack life was getting a bit much for me. Too many people were pitying me and I hated it. “We have a new, actual Alpha now! He is fucking drop-dead gorgeous!”
I roll my eyes. Of course, that’s what Izzy would be worrying about. “When do I get to see everyone? And where am I staying?”
“My house!” I groan softly, smiling. She punches my arm. “And you’ll see everyone at the dinner tonight!” She drags me by the arm while I drag my lone bag behind me.
All I have are a few t-shirts, shorts, sweats, a few suits (the pack is pretty professional,) some underwear, some sweatshirts, a lot of crop - tops, the few art antiques I had saved up for. my credit card, and all of the money I’ve ever made. It was all I could grab before I stormed out of the apartment ready to almost kill someone, but I couldn’t tell Izzy that. Not yet, anyway.
Shit. I’m fucked.
“Your style still hasn’t changed.” Izzy snaps, picking through the clothes in my bag. “What happened to the rest of your clothes?”
I hesitate, swallow hard, and then say, “Do you remember Blake and Elizabeth?”
“Yeah! Liza was funny. And from what I remember, aren’t you still dating him? He was hot as fuck. He fought underground too, right?”
“I found him cheating on me with my best friend - Elizabeth - last night, and so I ran away from the house last night with everything that was important to me and that I could carry in the bag.” Izzy gasps. “He’s dead to me.” She reaches over and gives me a hug, whispering, “I’m sorry, Rae.”
“It’s . . . fine.”
“I’ve already forgotten him. Blake who?” Izzy scoffs and I smile, despite the pang of heartbreak that had just seared into my body.
I was okay. I was going to be okay.
“Do you have any dresses?” Izzy asked, snapping me out of my thoughts and throwing the last of the clothes I had in my bag on now, my bed.
“Nope.” I grin, flopping down onto the sponge mattress. “And I’m very happy to not own any!”
“Lucky for you, I own a million!” I groan again. She walks over and pulls out a black, lace tulle dress. Some black 6 inch heels, gold jewellery (I’m seriously regretting allowing her to persuade me to get my ears pierced 5 times on each side,) sexy red lipstick, mascara, and a light smokey eye later, I was standing in front of the full body mirror in my room, allowing Izzy to curl my hair. Honestly, it was kind of fun. Dressing up, I mean. Becoming someone beautiful instead of someone so hurt and dark.
I remember when I was younger, Mom used to give me her dresses and her jewelry to wear. She would take pictures and stick them in the family album, telling me that I would grow up and treasure these pictures with all of my heart.
Those were taken away from me too.
“Done!” I turn back into the mirror and see a beautiful woman, someone who is definitely not me. My mahogany hair looks hazel in the light, with beautiful curls that surround my creamy white face. The mascara and eyeshadow made my eyes look bigger and my blue, green, and gold orbs to pop. The black dress revealed some cleavage and hugged my natural curves, flowing out and making my legs look much longer than they actually are. I’m 5 feet 7 inches in real life and these heels made me a little over 6 feet. The tattoos on my arms were visible: the one on the side of my arm that said “still I rise”, the words connecting to make a vine and leaving a rose to grow at the end. An arrow overlapping with circles and triangles along the length of my forearm. A “Q” with a crown on the top and a heart on the bottom. I had a quote right on my hip bone: “Pain shapes a woman into a warrior.” The one on my right wrist: a raven next to one heartbeat symbol from an EKG, and a heart. Underneath it were the words: FLY - HOPE - LOVE. I had a weird moon - and - stars shaped birthmark on the inside of my thigh, something that I had no idea why, or for what reason. My Achilles Heel held the words “This too shall pass”. My ankle held my fatal flaw: love. I yearned and desired for love, but I was too afraid that no one would want to give it. I am too afraid that no one could and would love me. I was afraid I wouldn’t find a mate. It was just a simple, plain heart - and that was what I needed.
Izzy rushed by me to look in the mirror, breaking my chain of thought. She had already changed and my god, was she beautiful. She had put her black hair in a classy updo and put on a long, sky blue dress that stuck to her body like a second skin, opening deep on her back. “Whoah, trying to impress someone, are we?” I whistled. Izzy giggled.
“Maybe. By the way, the alpha’s name is Valentino Grey. They call him ‘The Blood King’ or ‘The Blood Alpha’. For the record, he’s got . . . quite a reputation with women. Sluts somehow seem to dig the whole dominant, tattooed, sexy, and strong lycan thing - yet he never does anyone twice. And he’s also quite cold - your cliché King Alpha.”
“So he’s a womanizer.” My lip curls and I snarl. No woman deserves to be treated like that, slut or not. No woman has to be treated so lowly.
“He’ll come to visit you, Miss Guest of Honor.”
Shit. This is not good.
“And for what point do I deserve this golden opportunity?” Izzy giggled again.
“Simmer down, Rae. You’ll be fine.”
Valentino straightened his navy blue Armani Suit and awaited for the guest of honor to come, standing behind the big glass doors of the pack ballroom. Her name was Raven Belladonna Steele, Lycan and daughter of his real predecessors, Aiden and Olive Steele. She is incredibly strong, fierce, possessive, and from what he’s heard, beautiful. She knew what she wanted and would do anything to get it.
He snapped out of his daze as everyone started clapping. A beautiful woman in a sky blue dress opens the door, smiling, and Valentino recognizes her as Izzy, the Gamma’s daughter. She pulls the door open for Raven and as she steps in, his heart stops. The entire room goes silent, awed at her beauty.
The woman isn’t just beautiful, she’s drop-dead gorgeous. Izzy paled next to her beauty. Her blue, green, and golden orbs were cradled by her full black lashes. Her shiny mahogany hair curled around her face and red, seductive lips that he itched to kiss. She had a full ring of earrings around her ear, with big diamond earrings hanging from the closet piercing to her sharp jawline. The black dress she was wearing twirled around her big breasts and butt, draping out to show her long legs. Her black tattoos shined against her tanned skin. And over that, she smelled delicious. A mouthwatering vanilla and rose scent that had him weak at the knees. Her eyes lifted towards his and recognition swirled in her bright orbs, as only one thought ran through both of their minds.
No. The Alpha was not my mate.
He could not be my mate.
My lycan purred as she saw the sublime man that stood in front of me. His ebony hair was cut short on the sides and was slicked to the right on top, my fingers itching to run through the long strands and plant kisses along the strong, muscular curve of his neck. Hints of tattoos hung at the nape of his neck. His piercing green eyes, dark stubble, and sharp jaw made him the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my entire life. He stood with an economical grace, but he definitely was younger than what I assumed at first. Younger than twenty - eight, twenty - nine, would be my guess - but he looked sharp. Hard and sharply intelligent.
He was the kind of guy that made a woman want to rip his shirt open and watch the buttons scatter along, licking her lips while doing it. I looked at him in his outrageously expensive suit and thought of raw and primal fucking. Hard sex, something I hadn’t had in a long time.
I was irritated with myself for being so . . . awkward and rude. Why? Because I was dazzled, damn it.
Still, it wasn’t going to happen. For one, the pack would never accept me as their Luna. My past wrought the kindness out of me. There’s no messing with me. Two, I’m too dominant. Too direct. Lunas are mostly submissive, allowing their partners, the Alphas, to be the dominant ones. Two Alphas, and moreover, two LYCANS, won’t work.
My left wrist started to burn and I could already feel the mate mark being seared into my body. Bile erupts in my throat and I push it down.
Lycans have true, chosen mates. They get a mark special to the couple and then both Lycans mark their mates in the crooks of their necks. Both marks are extremely special to the couple and forceful marking is the worst crime known to werewolf. The bond is then consummated after the marking. Otherwise, every moon cycle (every full moon), the female lycan will go into heat.
Heat is supposed to speed up the mating process. It’s extremely painful and it . . . let’s just say that makes the female all hot and bothered and the male extremely lustful. Even other wolves go crazy when a female lycan is in heat, and it is only the mate’s touch that can help the pain ease. Only a small amount of males have enough control to keep their wolf calm. However, regular werewolves can imprint, mark, and then mate on whoever they want to be with for the rest of their lives.
So I don’t get a say in this, either.
My mate is a cold-ass bastard who thinks he can fuck whoever and whatever he wants.
I stop in my tracks and look at my tanned ankle - which now, along with my tattoos, has a pair of wings and a halo.
No offense, dear Moon Goddess, but could you get any less cliché? I thought snarkily, knowing that my mate probably had the opposite and a pair of horns.
An Angel (what the fuck) and a Demon; light and dark, right and wrong. The list goes on.
“Welcome, Miss Pierce. I am the Alpha of the Millennium Wolf Pack. My name is Valentino Gideon Grey. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The Alpha says, snapping me out of my thoughts. He flashes a professional smile and I stick my chin out to show that I’m not a submissive bitch and there was no way in hell that I was going to fall for his claims. His voice was cultured and smooth, with a rasp that made my stomach flutter. My name rolled on his tongue, arousing the long-dead desire in the pit of my stomach. It brought extraordinary sex to mind, making me wonder if he could make me orgasm if he talked long enough.
Blake and I stopped having sex about a year ago when I told him I didn’t want have it with him anymore. That may be why he cheated on me, but it gives him no support. He chose to do it with someone who was readily available and someone he knew could hurt me deeply.
But, luckily for him, I am an independent woman and I need no one for support. Especially not him. Or Valentino.
He smiles a megawatt smile again and turns around to greet the crowd, I suspect. I smile, but my eyes follow the back of his navy blue suit that hugs his lean and muscular body. Hard ridges and lines could be seen in his three-piece suit. He was utterly and completely mouthwatering.
That man is built like a fucking god.
And it isn’t fucking fair.
First update in a long time, I know, I know.
I just got a very heartfelt comment from a reader and it kind of boosted my spirit to post, so thank you!
Shoutout to @Da_patatoe! Thanks for the comment, once again!
DON’T BE A STRANGER!