Silver Lining Kisses

A Thousand Schemes

 York State 21, Northern Continent

   I gave a brief smile to the young pup in front of me, not flinching at the slip of his eagerness at my missing ears or my deformed body. Words weren't required to fill in his surprise. After all, the daughter of the Chief Alpha was expected to be perfect. Yet I was standing, half human-half wolf... a true werewolf. Not the dandy ones a Stephenie wrote years ago, whose only job was to fight off anemic vampires (a pretty name for cannibals) and fall in love hopelessly. 

   Alright, it was my guilty pleasure to steal that book from the archive section. But in every freaking book about werewolves, only strength or sex was mentioned. No wonder humans were enticed to actually create us mutants-

   "Werewolves," my inner wolf, Keya, growled. 

    "Mutants," A wolf turned at me, and I realized I might have screamed the word. Being deaf is difficult, I never knew how loud I spoke. Standing erect on my two paws, my fangs slipped out from my lips as I slightly smiled. The humans had succeeded to actually create werewolves. 

    Except that took 497 years. 

    And 2 billion deaths. 

   In the current population of 3.8 billion werewolves, there was just 1.8732% of a genetic defect that could arise due to DNA manipulation. A brilliant step from the initial 99.2358%. Except, I belonged in the fūcking 1.8732%. No ears, slanted yellow eyes and stretched ruddy lips over a furry, brown face. Ah, am I not your fantasy? There wasn't any rose nearby and I was well past 21 to have anyone love me to turn into a pretty Luna. Princess. Model. Whatever you define beauty as. 

    Alright, I know I don't have the best taste in books. It must be weird that amidst blood spilling and claws clamping, I'm talking to myself. 

    I'm schizophrenic, like most werewolves. We don't have any inner wolf. Just a bunch of psychos. Except, I'm in the 1.8732% that cannot control my schizophrenia. No wonder I'm in the frontline to fight the supernatural demons-

     - well, they're supernatural to humans. 

    - oh, wait, humans were extinct. Their genes became too weak and as good ol' Darwin suggested. Survival of the fittest. How could they survive amidst the monsters they made? Androids didn't last long either. They couldn't reproduce. We could. And we were at it like rabbits. Not all of us, the best genetically paired ones. Mates. 

    Ah, poor me, talking to myself right before I tore off a red skinned, six and a half feet tall demon. You don't exactly know they're dead unless black fumes escape from their skin - like blood. It's kind of the same thing. Death is beautiful without noise. An art. Flesh met flesh. Heat met passion. Power met hunger. People gripped onto each other until one was rewarded with death.

    Damn, I've never made love before but I could swear it was the same. A few rogues, one amidst the 1.8732 tried to hump me but he was executed before I could complete the act. Oh... we have the thinning - exterminating the 1.8732 ones (except me since I was a mad machine) so as to the population could be perfected. 

   That's why, neither my brothers nor sisters shed any tear when I was put in the face of death. My mental and physical instability made me the perfect killer and the ideal candidate for death. Also, didn't I say I look horrific? Even a few demons took a second look. 

   Talk about being a looker. 

    Suddenly a nail scraped against my breast. I was sure it was a pervert - didn't he have eyes - until I realized it was my left one. An attack on my heart. 

   Literally. He meant to kill me. But wolves have strong skin. Why a thousand years ago wolf furs were quite on the market! I mean apart from breeding us into dogs. Off topic! Licking the blood that splashed my face from a nearby kill, I grabbed the demon's skin and was about to bite my teeth into his neck when... 

   Oh God

   His white face had two, glittery eyes. A sharp nose. Thin, stretched lips. And long, black hair. His hand cradled my bald, furry one. Orange eyes squinted at my face. I realized my nose bled, the lack of medication taking its toll on me. There was a sudden breeze, oh... he had wings. T-this was the Alpha Demon. 

    The man I was trained to kill. But screw the 98.1268 ones who taught me so.

    I touched his pale lips, my paw tips flaming with desire as he looked at me with curiosity, wonder but not panic. He smelled of timbers aflame, and nothing could have been so comforting. It's not genes... I can't be genetically tailored for him. 

    'Cause that didn't involve the world shifting on its axis. It didn't mean that a deaf one could hear symphonies. And certainly, staring couldn't be more important than kissing. 

    The sky was bathed in crimson. Fire licked the land. Yet all I could do was gaze at him, with a tenderness I'd never felt before. Never was I more aware of being a... female. My heart clenched, realizing he was what people had shred into the word - mate. 

    Soulmate

    His skin burned, bruises appearing wherever I touched on his handsome face. Yet he never flinched. Realization dawned on me. I was genetically paired with him b-because I was his poison. 

    And he, my salvation. 

    Distraught, I pushed him away from me, incoherently mumbling, "Me... p-poison. Me... k-kill you." What was this fight for? I would never kill my soulmate, even if it killed me to save him. Rushing to jump off the cliff and end the fight, once and for all, a sharp metal pierced through me. 

    "No," Keya, my wolf, whispered. 

    My paws feebly touched the sword ripped through my torso and I turned, to see my Demon for the last time. 

    Only, he was holding the other end of the sword. 

---

    Everyone stopped at the scent of burning flesh. Their hardest warrior had been maimed, but above all, they also caught a whiff of demon's blood. Both the clans stiffened as thunder cracked the sky, calling defeat on the werewolves. Knowing their time was up, they all scampered away, none giving a second thought to Keya. 

---

    "Was enough of my blood and flesh present on the sword?" 

    "Yes"

    "Has it drawn out all the poison she was genetically mutated for?"

    "Yes,"

    My eyelids fluttered, a whimper escaping my lips as the sword was slowly drawn out from my stomach. My-no... the Demon stood there, nicking his wrist above my wound. Nothing happened, except for healing. 

    "The sword drew out all the poison you were born with," He whispered, his eyes flashing to red. 

    "So?" I whisper, my heart all too weak and broken. 

    "Nothing, beautiful." He whispered, cupping my cheeks in his bony palms. 

    "Finally I can do this," He murmured, running a hand over my face. 

    "What?"

    His lips met mine.

---

1184 words only

'A Thousand Schemes' was written as a result of the weekly challenge by the Elite BookClub. Why schemes? Solely because in spite of a thousand schemes, they really couldn't stop what was destined to happen. Did you catch the 'Twilight' and 'Beauty and the Beast' reference?

Love it? Let me know through votes/comments. 

Love, 

JS