Crown of Blood

4 | beautiful liar

let's not kill the karma

let's not start a fight

it's not worth the drama

for a beautiful liar

My legs burned as I sprinted back to my pack. My mate had been slowed down by his sneeze session, but he still ran after me until I was off his territory.

I was glad my mask had been on the whole time because it made it easier to leave knowing we both had no idea what the other looked like. Well, he had seen my human figure and my eyes, but that was about it.

For all I know he could be an ugly troll with stinky breath and a foot fungus.

I could feel my wolf snorting at me but I didn't care.

He probably hated skittles.

The Crescent Moon pack whizzed by in a blur as I continued building up my mate to be the bane of my existence in my mind to ease my heartache.

By the time I reached the Lunar pack, I was completely out of breath. My night had been exhausting to say the least, and I was already feeling the effects of all the running and fighting. I sniffed the woods outside the pack house until I found the bag I had ditched earlier. With a sigh, I removed my mask and daggers, burying them in the bottom of the bag before zipping it up and making my way to the pack house.

I glanced at a clock to see that it was almost one in the morning. Uncle Eddie would be fast asleep by now, his wizardy experiments usually tired him out. My stomach grumbled out in hunger, angry with me for having skipped dinner. Striding into the dimly lit kitchen, I opened the fridge and pulled out some leftover spaghetti. I was in the midst of heating it up in the microwave when a group of people my about my age stumbled in.

"Heyyyyy, it's Reya the pack Runt," one of the guys slurred, and I knew from his voice that it was Jason.

I turned around to see three girls and two guys. They were dressed in gowns and tuxedos, indicating they had just come back from the Mating Ball. My gaze fell on Jason. His brown hair was disheveled and his tie hung loose around his neck. He flashed me a sloppy smile, his brown eyes twinkling.

Another guy, Leo, punched his arm. "Dude, that implies that she's actually a pack member," he snorted. "She's just our charity case. We all know no other pack would accept a wolfless werewolf," he finished with a laugh.

I stood there silently. I had grown used to everyone's taunts over the years. Every wolf shifted at the age of 13, but royals shifted later, at the age of 16. This was due to the fact that our wolves needed more time to develop and gather strength.

Shifting was a rite of passage in our community. It was a painful process, and one's family and a select few pack members were usually present for it. This allowed for the child to draw on strength from other wolves to make their own shift easier.

So while everyone my age shifted together for the first time that year, I watched from the side. And on my 13th birthday, Uncle Eddie, the Alpha and a few of my friends gathered to help me. Uncle Eddie and I knew I wouldn't shift, but to sell the idea that I was an average wolf, we had to play along and pretend we were just as shocked when nothing happened.

The bullying started the day after my 13th birthday.

Everyone was confused as to why I hadn't shifted. Adults had given me looks of pity and sympathy, while the teens just laughed and called me weak. Pathetic. Ugly. They said I was a mistake. That I should have died.