The Prince's Mate

Chapter 2

The next day begun like any other. My father had managed to clear away the beer bottles and get himself to bed so Cassandra didn't think anything was wrong. I got myself dressed for work than quickly dashed over to Cass's room and helped her gather her belongings up. It was in the mist of the hectic mornings that I missed my mother most.

I missed little things. Those things that most children or young adults like myself took for granted. I missed walking down the stairs and being delighted by the smell of fresh pancakes and hear the sizzling of bacon. I yearned for someone to waltz into my room and wake me with a light kiss of the forehead. I knew my father tried his damnedest to keep me and my sister happy and blissfully unaware to his pain. But he could quit his job to spend the rest of his days being a homemaker and he still wouldn't be my mother.

Most days I attempted to put on a good attitude. If my father could put on a brave face for Cassandra than I could too. But some days were simply too much for me and today was one of those days. After my mother had passed away- even before she was gone and I had to witness her battle her own body- I had days where I wouldn't leave my bed. I would be crippled by my emotions and my lack of will. I would pull my blankets up to my chin and sob until my eyes were sore and I fell asleep while tears trickled down my cheeks. I often wondered how I would carry on without a mother to guide me.

Who was going to help me plan my wedding? Who would laugh with me when all I wanted to do was cry? And when the emotions became too much who would wipe away my tears?

The answer was no one.

In my eyes my father was a good man. No, he was a great man. Better than anyone else in the world, human or werewolf, as far as I was concerned. But he would never be her.

Today, like other days, the only reason I didn't curl back into bed and cry myself to exhaustion was Cassandra. She had been young when my mother died, so young she didn't understand what had happened or why mom didn't come home one day. Now she was older and she was grasping that mother had died and she wouldn't have a mother ever again like the kids at school did.

As I ushered her out of the door while double checking to make sure we hadn't forgotten anything in the living room, I realized that her devastation was completely different than mine.

I had lost my mother. I knew who she was, I remember our squabbles and our soft apologies afterwards. I could easily recall the way her eyes sparkled when she looked at my dad or the way she would laugh as we danced together in the kitchen, pretending we were rockstars, using wooden spoons as microphones. I knew my mother and I had been given the opportunity to know her, to love her and to be loved by her.

Cassandra hadn't. Cass had only been three when our mother died while I had been fourteen. She had been coddled by my mother when she was a child. My mother loved her dearly, but Cass couldn't remember any of it. She didn't know who my mother really was, she didn't know how much my mother loved her or what life had been like before she couldn't fight anymore. Instead, she went to school with children who had mothers to pick them up, to ground them, to make their lunches. And Cassandra was left wondering what he life would be like if she still had her mother around.

"You look sad." Cassandra pointed out.

I quickly blinked away the tears that had flooded my eyes and put on the brightest smile I could. She might've only been eight now, but she was incredibly keen when it came to emotions. Especially mine.

"I was just thinking about work." I lied.

"Work makes you sad?"

"More like frustrated." I corrected softly, looking around the street. I wanted to bus to appear so I could say my goodbyes to her before I broke down completely. There was no sign of the yellow vehicle yet and I withheld a sigh.

"Why don't you quit then?" Cassandra pressed. She tugged her camo backpack straps and eyed me innocently.

"I need to pitch in with the community and making money isn't a bad thing." I answered, relieved when I finally saw her bus.

I sent her off to school, trying not to think about the lie I just told. I didn't work because I had to. yes, the werewolf community only thrived because everyone did their fair share. My boss ran a grocery store that fueled everyone, my father handled legal settlements for the pack, my neighbor ran a furniture store and his son who was just a few years older than me was Cass's teacher.

But I didn't have to work and I didn't need the money. I knew my father would be more than happy to dish out his hard earned cash. He would do anything he could to please me.

I was simply worried that if I didn't give myself purpose I would stumble deeper into depression and I wouldn't be able to get myself out. Having a job meant I wasn't allowed to stay in bed all day and cry. It meant that I had to get up with Cass and my dad and make sure the mornings went smoothly. Being at work forced me to be around people and listen to them talk whether I wanted to or not. It forced me to get some exercise as well.

I left the bus stop and began walking to my job, smiling at farmilar faces on the street. My pack wasn't large, or particularly strong so I knew everyone in it. We only had about three hundred members which may sound like a lot, but the average size of a town or city was twenty thousand people. But for our size we did alright.

My alpha probably couldn't handle a much larger population either. He was incredibly controlling, always had to know what everyone was doing at all times. I felt terrible for his mate, a young, soft hearted woman who could do no wrong yet was blamed for everything.

I had no idea why he was so hard on anyone either. When I was born I remember everyone shrieking about how everything had to be up to royal standards. At the time the royals had been incredibly up tight, squashing any threat of war before it could even bud. I have no idea what changed but the royals were no longer talked about, though everyone knew they loomed over us.

I shivered at the thought. I had only seen the king once. A strange old man with sharp eyes and no trace of a smile. His mate, the queen, appeared to be even less friendly. I shivered and rubbed my arms as goosebumps crawled over my exposed skin. The king and queen were not a pleasant thought and I shoved them out of my mind as I entered the grocery store.