To impress his friends, who were the children of other higher ranked members, he knocked me off the swing. I remembered crying on the ground as he and the other kids laughed before they left me soaking in my own tears.
That fucking bitch.
Yes, I knew that it happened many years ago, but for some reason, I just couldn’t forget and forgive. I guess I just didn’t take rejection or embarrassment too well. I still don’t.
Luckily, after that, I never saw him again, and I was perfectly fine with it.
I quickly shook the thoughts off before I disappeared into the bathroom.
I stood in front of the mirror in my room after I finished taking a shower. I ran my hands down my hips as I stared at my reflection. I adored my frame. I didn’t consider myself fit or slim like the other female werewolves I had encountered. Other she-wolves had a fit and athletic physique, the type of body that would look exceptional in anything. I, on the other hand, did not have that. I was a curvaceous woman—full breasts, thick hips and thighs without such a slim waist. I would always assure myself that I would soon diet. At least, after I finish off the pizza I was enjoying.
I began to smile. My full pink lips looked well with my silky smooth skin and brown eyes.
I pulled out my blow dryer and started drying my shoulder-length black hair. When my hair was already dry, I pinned it up and leaped into my bed. Turning my television on, I searched through various channels until I finally landed on a show I could finish my night with.
***
Wrapped up in my comforter, I felt at ease. No classes. No early morning wake-up calls. Just the perfect time to oversleep.
“Amira, wake up. Let’s go the mall.” I heard my mother’s all too familiar voice as she pushed through my bedroom door.
“No, thank you,” I rolled away from her. “It’s too early.”
“Too early? It’s 12:30 in the afternoon. Now, get your butt up.”
I turned to my mother and an annoyed snarl escaped me. She narrowed her eyes and shot me a warning glare before walking away. It was a warning, convincing me that her wrath was more powerful than my teeth.
“Make it an hour, or I’m coming back.”
“Fine.” I sighed.
I stayed in bed for another fifteen minutes; I just did not want to get up. Mustering up some energy, I swung my legs and sat up from the bed. Tired and drained, I dragged myself to my bathroom.
After finishing my routine, I picked up my bag and made my way downstairs.
“Hey, Dad,” I greeted my father as I walked into the kitchen. He glanced up from his paper to meet my gaze.
“Hey, where are you two headed?”
“She’s dragging me to the mall.” I slipped into a chair beside him. I reached for his paper and pulled the comic section from the crumbled pile.
“Oh, good luck.” I could sense the humor in his comment.
My father knew how things went when it involved accompanying my mother to the mall. He had found a way to get out of it. During their mall trips, he would make her shopping experience hell. He complained, dragged his feet, and gave opinions my mother found useless. Occasionally, he would become ‘ill’ during their mall runs.
I could only admire his tactics for escaping.
“Okay, sweetie, I’m ready.”
“Okay.” I sighed and stood up from my chair.
I followed my mother out to the car and got in. I slumped down in my seat as I listened to the vehicle’s engine roar to life from under the hood. I slipped my earbuds on and drifted into my own thoughts the entire ride.
***
We roamed the mall for hours, not looking for a specific item. My mother just wanted to buy random things. With the help of my complaints, my mother wrapped up her shopping journey, and we finally left the mall.
“Sweetie, can you tell your father to come help with the bags?” I scowled at her. What am I? A personal beeper?
Reaching into our mind link, I urged for his assistance. A few seconds later, my father emerged from the front entrance. He grabbed my mother’s bag, refusing to have her carry her own.
He should have joined us in our mall run then. With his petty whining, I would have been home already.
By the time we arrived home, I made my way to the kitchen and walked over to the refrigerator, pulling a bottle of water from the shelf. As I turned to leave, I witnessed my parents sharing an intimate kiss in the living room. “We all have rooms for that, people.”
“Sorry, honey.” My mother’s cheeks flushed red as she pulled away from my father.
“You will understand once you find your mate,” my father explained.
A mate. To us werewolves, our mate would be someone the moon goddess has blessed us with. A mate would be someone we plan to spend the rest of eternity with.
Love. A destined bond that was almost unavoidable and hard to break. My mother and father were mates. He shared his secret with her, and she accepted his life and him as well.
However, some weren’t that blessed. Some were cursed. Some were given a mate who could be careless, cold-blooded, and downright disgraceful.
There could be some who don’t want a mate. Some who would rather remain unrestricted than fall into the spell of the mate bond.
Rejection. Some would rather reject their mate; it’s their way of freeing themselves from the world they consider a prison. However, it’s not always accepted by the other. The rejected mate may not fully accept it, leaving them with
