Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
Last year was the last annual transformation ritual that I’d attended.
After the humiliation and embarrassment I’d endured in front of the kingdom trying to shift into a wolf I didn’t have, I locked myself in my bedroom for days. Mom had to force herself inside to talk to me.
But I was grateful she had because she convinced me to volunteer my time at the kingdom’s orphanage. That was where I was going now. I was taking a detour away from the training grounds where Dad was finishing up this year’s transformation ritual.
Most of the pups in the orphanage were young. Too young to have lost their parents in a vampire attack. If the kids had no other relatives from other packs, they were placed in the royal orphanage.
When Mom asked me to visit the kids, she said it was so I could take my mind off the transformation ritual.
But it wasn’t the only reason. These pups couldn’t go on to live among the humans because they felt they didn’t belong there.
If the young orphans shifted in public, which was a high possibility since they didn’t have good control over their wolves, the young werewolves would be found out.
But in the werewolf pack, they didn’t have people to love them anymore.
So where was their home?
Mom knew I asked myself the same question. Even when I closed my eyes and called on an image of home, nothing came to my mind. Blank. Home should have been my vision of who I was, but I didn’t know who I was.
I looked forward to reading books and playing board games or basketball with the kids. I gave them as much of my time as I could, but it wouldn’t make up for the unconditional love they would never receive in the future.
I was unlucky in many respects, but I couldn’t deny I was lucky to have Mom and Dad.
But since last year’s transformation ritual, no matter how much my royal parents tried to assure me that I was still one of them and belonged in the kingdom, I could feel the space between us grow wider.
I was an outsider. I couldn’t shake off the feeling of alienation.
I wanted to be like my parents, but instead, I was something entirely different.
A human without a home. I didn’t mean a roof over my head—not that kind of home. But the place where I would feel accepted and celebrated. To me, home was where my roots were planted.
I took the unpaved road to the orphanage that weaved closer to the forest, leaving the training grounds behind me. Suddenly, whistling and laughter echoed around me. Ahead, off my path, a small crowd of people had gathered.
But they weren’t part of the transformation ritual, which must have ended by now. As I stepped closer, my heart raced. The air filled with a buzz of excitement and anticipation.
About ten teenagers wrapped in their blankets had made a circle around a young woman and a guy. All of them must have come from the ritual. They all looked disheveled, with messy hair and wrinkled blankets.
The she-wolf and the guy were around seventeen or eighteen years of age. They sat on the ground while everyone else stood around them, smiling and cheering, encouraging them…but to do what?
The girl bunched her blanket up on her thighs and crawled over the boy’s lap, straddling him. They gazed at each other as if the Earth had stopped spinning and they were the only ones there. Their noses almost touched as their eyes locked in a magnetic trance.
My pulse accelerated as I recognized the unwavering love of mates behind their eyes.
The couple must have just found out they were mates.
Maybe even at the transformation ritual.
Growing up, they could have felt that they belonged to each other, but upon their first shift, their wolves would have instantly recognized the other as their fated mate.
Tightness fell over my chest as I stared at the couple. That moment when the girl locked eyes with the boy and two pieces of a puzzle clicked together was magic. They were frozen in time and space, the world melting away, while the couple felt each other’s touch.
Finding the other half of your soul and your home in someone else’s touch was a blessing.
I did a double take when the girl tilted her head, giving her mate access to her neck while the boy brushed her long hair in such a gentle gesture that my insides melted. She was so lucky.
The crowd of their friends cheered, calling out their names. Still, the couple focused only on each other, forgetting anyone else’s existence. Having a partner’s undivided attention and love must have felt divine.
The boy’s canines protruded, touching his bottom lip, and his eyes flashed yellow. Now that they had shifted for the first time, they’d be able to mark each other—a tradition followed by werewolves for generations.
Dad held an official marking ritual for mates who wanted to share their marking with the werewolf community, but most couples did so in private.
Dad said that the marking brought the mates closer.
Although there was an initial pain from the puncture wound, the pleasure that followed was euphoric and so strong that most mates completed their mating following the marking.
No matter how often I watched a marking ritual, my muscles tensed, my bottom lip trembled, and my ears rang.
I’d give anything to feel what this girl felt in her mate’s arms. She looked like she was spellbound.
The guy grinned and lowered his head to the crook of her neck. He pressed a path of tiny kisses up to her ear, and a shiver ran down my spine.
He paused for a second, then sank his teeth into her flesh. At first, her face scrunched in a frown, and she let out a whimper. The gathered crowd had quieted down as if they held their breaths.
Soon, she melted against him, and a blush spread across her cheeks. The guy’s head was still lowered while her back arched, and the girl let out a pleasured moan.
Eventually, they’d have pups and start their own family. Marking each other was the beginning of creating a bond with a partner and bringing new life into the world. Mostly, it signified a sense of belonging and finding a home.
I envisioned my home filled with laughter, warmth, and shared experiences. Building my own family meant creating a space where I felt valued and accepted. Having interacted with the royal orphanage kids, I had already imagined having my own children one day.
I’d always wanted a family of my own—whether the kids would be human or supernatural was all the same to me.
I was ready to accept whoever my children turned out to be.
I was prepared to give them the same unconditional love that Mom and Dad showed me.
My kids wouldn’t have to endure the ridicule I endured in the kingdom.
It didn’t matter where I settled as long as I could protect my offspring from danger and humiliation.
A small family of my own would be like my own small pack—a pack where I belonged.
A shockwave of heat ran through my veins. Beads of sweat formed on my skin. The air turned suffocating, and I had to leave.
I only made it two steps backward when Layla showed up at my side.
No, not now. I couldn’t possibly deal with her attitude. At least not today.
“Hey, cousin,” she said in a fake, sweet voice.
The crowd started to cheer, calling the girl’s name out. It must have been her turn to mark the boy now. Over the loud voices, no one would hear Layla’s poisonous words to me.
I let out a heavy sigh. “What do you want, Layla? I’m in a hurry.”
“But you still had time to stop by and watch the marking. Wasn’t it so satisfying to watch as he made her his? They belong to each other,” she said and crossed her arms.
“It’s better if we keep apart, Layla.”
Especially since last year when she left me alone and drove away after a vampire attacked our SUV. Good thing Hayden fought the vampires who were after me, but Hayden wasn’t with me right now.
Layla wouldn’t hurt me during daylight in front of everyone. She wouldn’t risk turning the kingdom against her. But that didn’t stop her from spitting toxic words my way. I did my best to build a shield around me, but today, I felt moodier than any other day.
“With your dull human teeth, you won’t be able to mark anyone. Not that a boy would want you,” she said, stepping into my personal space.
I hated when people invaded the safety of my space, especially when she did it.
“You’re not a werewolf, Breanna. You’re not like us, and the kingdom is not your home. You won’t be given a fated mate like the rest of us. You’ll never experience a marking ritual. So watch all you want, but don’t get your hopes up.”
Layla’s words hung in the air, and any remaining hope that I could belong to another crumbled away. She made me feel turned inside out, but the worst part was that I let her. I couldn’t strike her, at least not physically. I could only endure.
“When will you stop, Layla? No matter how much nonsense you spew, I’m the first princess, and we won’t be able to bring back Uncle Derek.”
“Don’t you dare mention my father. You’re unworthy of saying his name.”
“I am, and I’ve apologized to you so many times. Why can’t we live in peace?”
Her face reddened, and I thought I hit a nerve. She inched closer.
“You don’t belong here. I wouldn’t bat an eye if you turn into a rogue,” she said in a low voice, turning her back on me.
Rogues were werewolves cast away or banished by their packs.
I was a rogue, in a sense, although I still lived in the kingdom. How could an outcast ever belong? The longer I stayed here, the more marking rituals I would witness and the larger the void in my heart would become.
How much more could I endure?