Being the princess of all werewolves is not easy, but finding a mate is harder. Annabeth's royal life is turned upside down when she meets her mate, Kate.
Soon, she finds herself stuck between two choices: her duties to her family, and her love for...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Roughly five Years ago.
It's been three days.
I've learned a long time ago that it's impossible not to think. I never paid much attention to the fact because I usually have no problem with the paths my thoughts take. Up until now.
I have tried to occupy my mind. Reading didn't help, nor did burying my head into school work and I failed miserably in training too. I got hit so many times, that the coach send me to the infirmary to get checked out. It was embarrassing, to say the least, but my mind just kept trailing. Now I stare, again, at my ceiling.
"Why can't we just go?" Nora just doesn't get tired of asking me that.
"I said no."
"But why?"
"Because you must be wrong."
"I am not, you know it."
I exhale in anguish but stay silent. Maybe, if I refuse to talk to her, she will go 'away'.
"You felt it too." she urges, twisting the knife, again.
"Yes. YES! You are right. Happy now? I felt it too." I snap at her.
"But how? Why?" This is the major question around which my mind has revolved for three excruciatingly long days and nights. I have hardly slept, and I have barely eaten. I just don't feel like it, at all.
And of course, I ask myself the same thing that every confused, entitled teenager asks. Why me?
"Don't you rather mean why her, or at least, why us?"
I groan in frustration; this whole wolf thing is getting exhausting. Apparently, no one thinks it necessary to tell you beforehand how tiresome it is to have a second occupant in your head, especially when that person is a tireless know-it-all.
I feel haunted by the looks of others. I'm not foolish, I know I'm likely imagining it, or that they are just eying me curiously because I am who I am, and all that, but what if they do know? Are they able to see...? I feel like it's written on my forehead. But at the same time, I feel trapped. Trapped in the certainty that something that feels so right is so wrong.
The pattern of the paneling on the ceiling blurs as my eyes start to water and a lonely tear runs down my cheek, leaving a wet trail, past my ear only to get lost in my hair. I think I am subconsciously making a habit of this entire staring behavior because that way I can try to tell myself that the tears are a physiological reaction to the drying of the cornea and conjunctiva.
It's easier than admitting to myself that I feel utterly lost. I've never felt lost before and I can't stand this feeling. I always do everything by the book, following the rules. It means safety and security, sheltering me from unwanted surprises, it comforts me to know, what comes next. But this?
