The Fighter

Chapter 3

They force me to Shift after half an hour of walking. I refuse, trying to push as many buttons as possible; it seems he's very temperamental, especially towards me when I refuse to follow his commands. I'm not his bitch.

"Why should I do anything you tell me to do?" I say, crossing my arms, refusing to take another step. I'm sitting at the base of a tree and my mate is standing in front of me, obviously trying to control his temper as he closes his eyes and mentally counts to ten. All the other men are standing to the side, looking away from us but I can tell they are trying not to laugh. "You're not my Alpha."

"No but my father's the King." At that, my muscles tense. I'm mated to the Prince? Better yet, I slapped the Prince in front of hundreds of people. Oops. That explains the silver ringed irises- how could I not see it? I try my best not to blush at how ignorant I've been to his status but I hide it with a shrug.

"Then this must be the first time someone's said no to you. Better get used to it." Drawing my knees to my chest, I almost laugh at the helpless look he throws the Beta guy. None of them have spoken to me; I've tried to keep silent as we've been walking. He took me from my pack, my brothers and sister. They need me and I need them. If he thinks he can do that and expect me to do everything he tells me to do, he's got another thing coming. The Beta gives a gesture for him to keep trying, which I see out the corner of my eye. Knowing he's not going to let me stay here, I give up. He can make my life just as difficult as I can make his and that's not something I want to do. "For the love of the Goddess," I mutter climbing to my feet, thankful that I'm still wearing my exercise clothes. His head snaps to me as I stand with a scowl on my face. "Turn the fuck around then."

"How do I know you aren't going to run away?" He asks, lifting an eyebrow. There's a slight edge to the way he says it; he doesn't appreciate me swearing. I give him a smirk.

"Would you rather watch me take my clothes off? And if the rumours are true then surely you can catch a girl running through the woods." I don't mean to boost his ego but it's the only thing I can think of saying to get him to turn around. Sighing heavily, he turns around to give me privacy and his men follow his action. Soon all of them are turning their backs to me so I'm tempted to run but my own words ring in my head. What I said was true; he is faster than me. So I do the only thing I can do. Angrily muttering, I call my 'mate' all sorts of names as I strip out of my clothing, folding it all nicely and making sure to take my time, knowing it is annoying the 'Prince'.

"Could you take any longer?" He complains.

"Sorry, Your Highness but unlike you, I don't have someone carrying a spare pair of clothing for me," I snap, watching him bristle after calling him 'Highness'. Surely he's used to being called that? Except I highly doubt anyone else says it with heavily the mocking tone. The Beta stifles a laugh and I shake my limbs out with a sigh.

I've not let the wolf out in a long time.

My bones pop and move, elongating and twisting until I'm crouching low in my wolf form. Pain sparks and flares almost everywhere at once as my human skeleton is transforms rather gruesomely into that of a wild beast, claws and a tail growing from where they weren't before. I've watching hundreds of Shifts, seen the way the bones visibly rearrange beneath skin and every time makes me shiver. The grinding of joints shudders through me, my gums aching as large sharp incisors replace my blunt human teeth, a black wet nose twitches on the end of my snout as I straighten. Unlike most female wolves, my fur is tougher and wilder and while most female wolves keep their wolf groomed and their fur soft and fluffy, I don't even bother grooming. What's the God damn point?

When I first Shifted, two things about my wolf counterpart surprised people: the most surprising thing is the fact I have black fur and the second thing is that I stand almost two metres tall, which is very tall for a she-wolf. My black fur is sprinkled with brown and my paws are a very light brown, the almost rusty colour fading to black as it reaches passed my ankles. Unexplainably, I have a single white mark on the very centre of my black head and Dad says it's like a birthmark. My eyes are molten gold, like all other werewolves, but the stand out proudly among the dark of my fur. Watching as all the men turn to see me Shifted, they murmur in surprise as they take me in; clearly they were not expecting this from me.