Tainted [Werewolf Romance]

Chapter 1

Chapter 1 I felt the sting of the hit before it slammed against my face. The force of the punch threw me down to the floor. I looked up at the person who is making my life a living hell. He had a cocky smirk on his face, it took every ounce of my being not to jump up and slap that smirk off his face. But I knew better than that. I knew if I did fight back, he would grab me by my hair and beat me. I cannot believe that this piece of shit was my father. Dangerously glaring at him, I spat at him. His smirk faltered only for a second. Next thing I knew, I was thrown against the wall. Pictures shook and some fell, breaking on the floor. “You little bitch!” he roared. “You’re going get it now. Just like that whore of a mother got.” A tear filled my eye as I glanced down at the floor to see my mom unconscious, possibly even dead. Today was the worst of the beatings. He probably saw the plane tickets me and my mom had hidden. We were going to be freed from this nightmare. The disparity fully hit me. I felt him rub up against me; disgust filled my body. He wouldn’t. His hand caressed my thigh as he licked his lips, his motives not at all hidden. I internally screamed as his hand unbuckled my pants. No! Not this! Anything but this! His grin grew as I struggled against his grip. Why is he so strong!? He slammed me against the wall again. “Stop it! Or I’ll make this even more painful!” Each word dripped with acid. He clawed off my jeans and panties. In an instant he penetrated me. I could feel the blood trickle down between my legs. My mind flashed back to the good times our family used to have. When I was still young, maybe around 7 years old, everything had changed. My father had just got laid off at his job and the bills were high. My dad and mom were both very concerned how they were going to support me when they couldn’t even pay the bills for the house. One night, my father came home drunk. The fume of stale beer on his tongue and cloudy smoke on his clothes. The loud clunk of the door as he slammed it open woke both me and my mom. We clambered down the stairs to see what the source of the noise was. I saw my dad standing in the doorway with a grimace on his face. “Whata ya lookin’ aht?” he stammered, slurring his words.                   “Honey” my mom began, “where in the world have you been?” She smelled the beer and smoke on him. “What in the world have you been doing?” “Shut it bitch!” my father slapped my mom across the face. The sound echoed throughout the house. I stared at my dad, mouth agape. What the hell just happened?! I trembled in fear as I realized he was heading right towards me. All those years of abuse, he no longer needed a drink to rationalize about harming me and my mom, but that never stopped him from becoming intoxicated.  I read an article once in the public library by a psychiatrist about what motivates fathers to abuse their families. This particular passage had read that when men feel  helpless and frightened, the only way they can prove that they are men and powerful in any way is to dominate those weaker and less powerful. Daughters, unfortunately, are their nearest prey. Considering that my dad had just got laid off of his job I considered it made sense but…..I had a feeling that this wasn’t just it. Once he finished his ‘business’, he left my room chuckling. Silently as possible I crawled over to mom and shook her. “Mom?”  I said my voice thick with worry and sadness. “Mom? Please don’t leave me with him! I’m only 17!” She didn’t move, she didn’t say anything. She was lying on the floor lifeless. Bruises contaminated her originally beautiful face. And for the first time in 3 years, I cried. I wept like a little baby who didn’t get what she wanted. I cried for the death of mother. She in no way deserved to die this way. I cried for myself. I hated being so weak, so defenseless. And finally, I cried just because I wanted to cry. After about an hour of crying next to my dead mom, I slowly got up. Checking all the bruises and cuts on my body. I limped over to my private bathroom and took a bath. Trying to wash away his toxic touch. I scrubbed and scrubbed but nothing made me feel better.  I felt so dirty, so wrong, almost as if this body was not my body anymore. Looking into the mirror, I finally saw how horrid my bruises were. There were bruises and cuts all over my legs, chest, and arms, however there were none on my face or neck. The worst was a scar running from my right hip to my left shoulder blade. The first night my dad actually tried stabbing me.  My mom protected me, but I ended up getting slashed anyway. She kept apologizing to me, saying it was her job to protect us both.  I remember the anger that boiled up inside me for my so called ‘father’. My mom had always been beautiful, strong, and so reliable, I looked up to her. But this feeble woman who shook with fear? I pitied her. My dad has always been smart about my beatings. He knew that it was easier to hide my body from insightful glances but I could never hide my face. Once in a while I would get a cut on my face but everyone thought it was normal. What teenager wasn’t getting hurt doing the crazy things they do? Too bad they didn’t know the truth. I’ve dreamed about my dad somehow getting into a car accident or something. The world would’ve been so much better without creeps like him, but I was too young to be on my own yet. I was only 17 and my birthday was in exactly 3 months: March 7. It also crossed my mind to call Child Protective Services, but I don’t need their sympathetic coos. I was going to take care of myself. I cautiously waited by the door, listening for footsteps or any sound that indicated my father wasn’t passed out drunk yet. Pleasant silence reached my ears. I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding and slowly exited the bathroom. With pajamas in hand, I got dressed, making sure I didn’t touch any of my fresh bruises. I glanced at my mom still lying on the floor lifeless. I wanted her to have a proper burial. No matter the cost. I guess I was going to use my money from my after school job that I have been saving for college. I let out a deep sigh. I glanced at the clock. 9:37. I grabbed my cell phone from my purse and dialed the number for a funeral home. “Montgomery Funeral Home. Can I help you?” a tired women’s voice answered.              “Yes, my mother has died and I would like to have proper burial for her.” My harsh voice croaked out. The line was silent for a moment. “Uh…yes. Hold on a moment.” I heard some papers flipping from the other side of the line. “You will need to come in and fill out a couple papers for the casket and the ceremony. Can you come in tomorrow?” “Yes.” “We close at 10:00pm. So anytime before that is okay.” “I will be there. Thank you. Bye.” I hung up before the woman could day anything else. The whole phone call I was trying to hold back tears. That night I cried myself to sleep. When I woke in the morning, my body felt limp. It took me about 10 minutes to just get my purple legs to gain the feeling back in them. I got dressed in my ripped black jeans, purple band t-shirt, and some flats. I brushed my curly, blond hair that reached my hip. Satisfied, I lightly put on some eyeliner and mascara. Grabbing a pop tart from kitchen and my bag from the living room, I ran outside and threw it into my mom’s Dodge Charger. Guess it was mine now, each word were stones in my heart. I drove to school, blasting my radio trying to get the horrid memory out of my head. Walking to my first period class, which was calculus, I noticed people giving me the usual weird look. Some guys looked at me with lust in their eyes, others with disgust, and girl’s jealousy. They thought I was going to try to steal their boyfriends away. I lightly giggled at the thought. I had no use for a boyfriend. Most of the guys in my school were assholes or unbelievably cocky.  The bell rang throughout the school as I entered my class and took my seat. My grimy, perverted teacher Mr. Hareton had all the girls in the front of the class so he could stare at our chests. “Pervert” I muttered as I saw him enter. “Good morning girls!” he bellowed, happy to see his favorite class. “Good morning.” A few girls muttered a reply. “Boys.” He said rather uninterested. No one acknowledged his greeting. He continued, “Today we will be learning about limits.” The class groaned while I sat there. Math was easy to me. It made sense to me. There was always an answer.  Always a reason why, unlike the essence of life. As Mr. Hareton began teaching, the door opened. I looked up from my notebook to see a guy that I’ve never seen in school before. He had dark brown hair, styled messily but still looked perfect. His stunning hazel eyes surveyed the classroom. He wore black skinny jeans and a simple white t-shirt. Under you could tell that he at least had a 6 pack and that he was just as muscular everywhere else. Great. I thought the school had enough manwhores in the school. “Ah” exclaimed Mr. Hareton. “You must be the new student. Your name is?” “Adrian Gammie.” His voice deep and husky that demanded your attention. “Okay. You can sit behind…” said Mr. Hareton as he searched for an open seat. “Ms. Palenski. Jessica could you raise your hand please?” I reluctantly raised my hand.  Adrian began walking toward the seat behind me obviously ignoring the winks from the sluts in the class as they pulled down their already lowered shirts. I saw Mr. Hareton widen his eyes and then smirk approvingly at the slutty girls whose bras were popping out. Adrian glanced at me expecting the same, but instead he stared at me in surprise. His shining hazel eyes piercing my soul. “Mr. Gammie? Is there a problem?” Mr. Hareton asked, noticing that Adrian was standing right in front of my desk staring at me. He ignored the teachers call. His eyes seemed to be fixated solely on me. It may have been my imagination but for a small second I thought I spot his hair become longer and thicker. I noticed that his hand was trembling uncontrollably. Suddenly it stopped. Adrian sat down in his seat right behind me without another glance at me.  
Adrian POV I sighed and got up in the morning just as my alarm clock rang. Great. I’m starting school today, I thought with sarcasm. “Adrian! Get your butt down here! You’re going to miss the bus!” my mom screeched from downstairs. I didn’t bother replying. I lazily got dressed in my black jeans and favorite white t-shirt. Coming down stairs, I noticed my mom making breakfast for the whole pack. Well it was the Alpha Female’s job I guess. She had to be the mother to all the werewolves in our pack. We had the strongest and largest in the area: The Kerning Pack. Too bad we had to relocate due to werewolf hunters becoming a little too closer than my dad, the Alpha, would like. And since my dad is the Alpha that means soon, I would have to take over the pack. But I could only become Alpha if I had found my mate already. I’m 18, old enough to rule the pack. I know how to do everything as I’ve has been helping my dad with the Alpha work since I was 10. The only thing that’s holding me back is not having a mate. A mate to a werewolf is someone who is basically their soul mate. However, its completely different term from what humans use. A mate means to a werewolf, someone that was made especially for them. Werewolves can mate with other werewolves and with humans. If a werewolf somehow lost their mate they would slowly and painfully drift into madness. Once a werewolf has found their mate there’s this deep bond that is created between the two people. It’s hard to explain considering I haven’t found my mate but my mom has told me it’s basically like you can feel your mates emotions and if the bond is profound enough they can actually talk to each other in their minds. I sat down at the kitchen table, grabbing a plate of eggs my mom had set for one of my younger brothers. When I had begun eating them I heard a small, whiny voice say, “HEY! Those were MY eggs!” I chuckled as I continued eating them watching my little brother, Aden, complain about me being a bully. My little brother Aden was 8 years old and he looked like a mini me. He had the same style hair as me and the exact hazel eyes. I ruffled his hair as I was leaving. “Sorry kiddo. Big boys get to eat first.” I shut the door before I could hear him whine about him being a big boy and that he wanted to wrestle me to prove it. Walking down the driveway, I hopped into my Cadillac CTS Coupe and revved the engine. Trying to find a parking space, I saw that the sluts in the school seductively glancing at me, lowering their shirts just right to make their breasts pop out. I scoffed in disgust. If I ever find my mate I really hope she isn’t a slut like these girls. I went to the main office to get my schedule for the year, when I bumped into one of the slut girls trying to get out of the door. “Excuse me?” she stated in her shrill voice until she noticed that it was I who bumped into her. She looked me over appreciatively and pushed her chest towards me. “Well hello there. You’re new I presume?” she cooed. “Uh…yea.” I muttered trying to find a way to escape her hungry claws. “My name’s Keri. What’s yours gorgeous?” she leaned into me, rubbing her body against my length. I grimaced and tried not to puke. The bell rang; I breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh! There’s the bell, don’t want to be late on my first day!” With a fake smile plastered across my face, I bid her adieu and left for my first class of the day which turned out to be calculus. Arriving at the door I realized three things: one, this teacher is a god damn pervert seeing as how he had all of the girls in the front of the room. Two, all the girls were pulling their shirts down and riding their skirts up to get my attention. And three, there was a beautiful scent in the room. I quickly sniffed the air. It smelled like vanilla and lilies. Inside of me, my wolf was howling trying to get my attention. I ignored him and motioned toward the teacher. “Ah” exclaimed Mr. Pervert. “You must be the new student. Your name is?” “Adrian Gammie.” I replied. “Okay. You can sit behind…” he began searching for an open seat. “Ms. Palenski. Jessica could you raise your hand, please?” “Jessica?” The teacher said again becoming impatient. A girl by the window near the front of the classroom raised her hand. As I began walking toward my seat, I quickly glanced at the girl. Instantly my body froze. She was confidently staring right back at me as I stared at her in awe. Her long luscious blond hair and deep blue eyes penetrated right through me. She was thin but not too thin. Perfect size for me and had some definite curves, which I loved. She wore ripped black jeans, and a purple band t-shirt. It fit her body tightly but not too tight, just enough to show off her shape. My wolf howled at me. He kept barking over and over again, saying something but I was too stricken by this goddess’s beauty to hear. “Mr. Gammie? Is there a problem?” the teacher asked breaking me away from my stare.  I ignored the teacher and continued staring. I felt my hair becoming slightly longer and shaggier. My canines grew in size. Was I shifting right in the middle of class? What in the world is happening? My wolf howled, begging me to let him out. I fought for control against him. Not here! After what seemed like hours I regained my control and slid into my seat without another word. The rest of the period I was puzzled as to why my wolf wanted me to shift, now of all times! I could tell that my inner wolf was angry at me considering how I didn’t give him what he wanted. But I managed to hear one thing he muttered before completely shunning me. “Don’t fight me again.”