The Prince's Mate

Chapter 1

               I winced as I walked through the darkened streets and I saw yet another woman being dragged behind her furious husband. She looked ashamed, clearly aware that people were watching her, men scowling and other women judging. There was no doubt in my mind that she had "behaved badly" and was being taken home so her husband could punish her as being violent and unrestrained in public was thoroughly frowned upon.

I tried not to think about it too much as I continued on my way home. It sounded barbaric, and to be fair, it was. But that was the culture I lived in, the one I had been born into. While humans were chanting poems about feminism many werewolves, like myself, were trapped in a system of patriarchy. Male werewolves were simply bigger, stronger, and held higher places of power in our society. Women were considered irrational and unable to make decisions. It was the husband's duty to make every choice and to correct his wife as he saw fit when she stepped out of line.

I cringed at the thought while I opened the door to my home. I was greeted by no one, as usual. My father was still out working and my younger sister was still at school. Sometimes the quiet home was a blessing. I didn't have to listen to my sister whine about her work or my father ramble on about his work, but today the emptiness and the stillness just made my heart heavy with loneliness. The house was never this quiet when I was a child.

Trying not to think about it, I tugged my blonde hair back into a sloppy bun and began to work on making supper. I made a meal with a lot of meat, being a werewolf required a high amount of protein intake. Eventually, I became lost in my cooking. I twirled around the kitchen, humming as I tossed a salad and carefully placed everything on the table.

Before I knew it, my father was home and my little sister, Cassandra, trickled in behind him.

"Hey." I said softly, feeling a smile light up my face, "I just finished making supper."

My father tried to force a smile, but it faltered quickly and never reached the grey eyes that I had inherited. My mood saddened at this, but I forced myself not to show it.

"I made your favorite, Cass." I cooed.

My little sister beamed, "Steak?"

"You bet." I said with a wink, "Come on, eat something before it gets cold."

My father tumbled into his chair at the head of the table as he usually did. His exhausted eye flickered towards the fridge and my heart tightened in my chest, only to relax again when he looked away, defeated.

My father had lost his mate, my mother many years ago. She was his other half. Every werewolf only has one mate and it is the most wonderful incredible thing. My parents were head over heels in love. I can't remember a day when they ever uttered a hurtful thing to one another. My mother did everything she could to please my father and he, in turn, didn't behave like other men.

He never laid a hand on my mother and didn't dare touch me or my sister. The most we ever had to deal with was a stern chat that usually ended in us crying and an apologetic embrace. I knew other men made fun of him, told he wasn't strong enough to discipline his wife, but it never phased him. I think knowing what the other men did to their wives and mates bothered him more than the teasing ever could.

Then my mother had been swept away by cancer. It was a tragedy that no one saw coming. Werewolves are known to have an accelerated healing process and a phenomenal immune system which means deaths like this are rare. But my mother couldn't defeat the cancer, even when she fought with all her might. One night, a few years ago, she fell asleep in the hospital bed while holding my father's hand and she drifted away from all the suffering while she dozed.

My father didn't snap as I heard of many men doing when they lost their mates. He didn't go into a violent rampage or try to somehow avenge the love of his life. Instead, he simply broke. For days he locked himself in his room and cried, leaving me to mourn with my sister. Once the shock of the grief subsided slightly he began trying again. He went to work as a lawyer as he had before. He picked up Cass from school, he went to parent-teacher conferences. But he wasn't the same. He was so incredibly depressed I knew that if it weren't for me and Cass he would've followed my mother. For now, he did what he could during the day and once Cass was asleep he would take a few bottles out of the fridge and drink some of the hurt away.

"The food was good Brooklyn." My father said, clearing away his dishes.

"Thanks." I said brightly. He gave me another weak smile in return and began washing the dishes.

"Come on, Cass." I said, "Let's go do your homework."

Cassandra and I went upstairs and got comfortable in her tiny, dark green bedroom. My father had insisted on painting the walls bright pink, but my little sister wasn't exactly a pink kind of girl. She had thrown a fit until she had gotten her green room and I doubted she would ever change the colour.

We worked on her homework quietly. I was merely there to make sure she actually completed it and to offer a helping hand when she needed one. But I had mostly brought her upstairs to give my father some alone time. It seemed that he had a harder day than usual and if he couldn't hold off the tears I didn't want him to be embarrassed.

After Cassandra had finished her homework I put her to bed, then ambled across the hallway, into my bedroom, and tumbled into my own bed. I was tired from my day of work, but like most days, I was more emotionally exhausted than anything.

I wanted to lull myself into a mindless sleep, but I couldn't. My brain kept going back to the woman I saw outside who was being dragged around by that man. I wondered if she was alright or if she was nursing her new injuries. I thought about my father who I could hear mumbling to my dead mother below me. I shuddered as I pulled the blankets around me.

Mates didn't seem like a fairy-tale that would fill me with love and joy. They seemed like a death sentence.