Breaking Free (BXB)

Chapter 18-Frustration

I stared at my paws, frustration bubbling in my core like a beaker of chemicals that some mad scientist had stored away somewhere. I had been trying to turn human again for an hour and I had nothing to show for it. No distinctly human skin, no claws receding or fur getting a little bit shorter, none of my height returning (though to be honest there wasn't much there in the first place.), I was completely and totally still a cat. And a small one at that.

 I glared at my reflection in a mirror beside my bed. I might not be so mad if I was something bigger, something more ferocious, like a lion or a bear, but here I was, an overgrown house cat with a penchant for eating raw meat. Huffing, a glared at the floor. I didn't think turning human would be this hard, but lo and behold, I was wrong. When wasn't I wrong, I was wrong about Owen being human, about my mother being human, about the fact that werewolves and shifters and the supernatural didn't exist. I was wrong about a lot of things, and here I am, wrong again. At this point, I should just assume that everything I thought was wrong and move on with my life.

Snorting irritably, I turned around, padding over to my bed and jumping up onto the soft blankets to curl up. I needed a nap, and by god, I was going to get one. The blankets were so soft and fluffy and they felt so comfortable against my fur. It was like I was in a warm cocoon. The blankets caressed me gently, lulling me into a trance and the sun shone through my balcony onto my fur, heating me up just enough. I could feel all my stress melting away beneath the warmth of the sun. 

 A deep rumble started in my chest, and I nuzzled my head against the blankets, my eyes drooping closed as if leaden weights rested on top of them. Sleep called, beckoning me to its dark embrace, and I let it pull me there, the world around me dampening, growing softer and duller until finally-

"Milo, before you go off-What the hell?" Owen shouted, his voice loud and shocked.  My eyes fluttered open, quickly turning into short slits. It wasn't like he had walked in on his parents doing the nasty or anything. He was leaning against the entrance to my room with a hand over his heart, his eyes wide. My purring abruptly came to a stop, and any chance of falling asleep left with it. Lovely. I was still pissed at him for just walking out of my room, earlier. He was irritated and upset at my words, but I really just wanted to look out for myself for once, and if he couldn't see that well then-

Well, then what?

I wanted to think that maybe then he didn't deserve me and that I would cut him out of my life, like an angry, divorced wife who cut her husband out of all the family photos. But Something tugged in my gut, and I knew that was a lie. I cared about him way more than I cared about myself, and that scared me. I wasn't wrong in not wanting a relationship in the middle of a war. Who would? Especially me of all people. I had a choice to make, and it wasn't going to be easy. I had to choose which side I was on, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that neither side was free of guilt.

 The prophecy made it very clear that I was a force to be reckoned with, though I wasn't exactly sure how, considering I was an Ocelot of all things, not a lion or a tiger or some other large predator, I was an Ocelot.  And when I wasn't a tiny cat, I was a tiny high school boy with no muscles, no speed, no fighting skills to my name. The only things I did have going for me included: baby-face and the understanding that the mitochondria are the powerhouse of the cell.

Definitely, a force to be reckoned with. Totally.

It didn't help that both sides were cruel and reckless. It didn't help that my mother was one of these people. She had lived with them, laughed with them, ate with them. There had to be someone here who knew her and wanted to know me. It didn't help that Owen was one of them. Owen had my heart, but could I really disregard my humanity and the world I had grown up in, the people that I knew, for this? And what if it was true that my dad was a hunter, could I really ignore the only family I'd ever had for people who hadn't treated me kindly. I wasn't sure.