Bell La Rouge (ON HOLD)

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

S. Richie is a beautiful, blonde, women. She looks to be in her late twenties – possibly early thirties – and she is stunning. Her tanned skin is flawless, her body tall but curvy with breasts every teenage girl dreams off.

She looks at me, and smiles. I do not smile back. "Hey, are you a potential too?" she asks, obviously trying to be nice. I nod. "I'm Serena" she smiles.

"Cami" I reply – not pleased with what I see. I am a judgemental person, it is the cat in me. I don't like Serena, she is pretty and a threat. I am a typical cat; I liked to be centre of attention, and I like to be the prettiest girl anywhere I go. Serena is a threat to that, so I instantly dislike her. I am bitch, yes, but I don't pretend to ever be anything other.

"Do you live next door?" she questions, smile faltering slightly at my hostile attitude.

"Yep". Once more, my bluntness threw her off.

"You're British? I love England, I think it's so nice there and--"

"Oh so you've been then?" I demand, and she stutters slightly without an answer. "No I didn't think so. Listen, I don't need you telling me about the country I come from. So why don't you go back inside your room, and have a shave? Because I can see that five o'clock shade creeping up on you, honey".

She flinches at my harsh words, before I see her eyes harden. "Well I'll get to that when you get to sorting out your sideburns" she snaps, before turning on her heels and storming into the room. I swallow a growl, as I turn and head into my own room.

I am reeling from Serena's words, but I should have expected them. I was rude to her, simply because she was pretty, so she was mean back. Simple. I deserved her words, but I am still annoyed she had the audacity to speak like that to me. Like I said, I am vain and prideful.

Shifters – especially female ones – are rare. So if you spend your entire life being chased by men, admired by women, and told your special by everyone. Then, well, you begin to believe it. Worldwide there are only about a hundred Shifters left; about thirty of them females. So, yes, I am kind of special.

My bedroom is nice; large double bed, shining en suite, and a small balcony that looks out over the dense forest around us. Nearly everything located in the room, has the BLR logo on it – just in case I don't know where I am.

My bag have already been unpacked for me; and I look over my clothing inside the closet. Feeling threatened by Serena, I decide to change out of the outfit that still smells like airplane.

I have a small figure. Only five foot two, with a slim athletic build and locks of natural red hair flowing to my waist with dyed blonde tips. My face is small, and dainty, with eye so blue they look fake. I am almost china doll like; or that was what my grandmother always told me.

Male attention is something I am never short of. Not just because I am beautiful, but also because I am a female Shifter. We are so rare, that supernatural men couldn't help but admire me.

When I was fifteen, and was caught sleeping with my teacher, my grandmother had made me go to therapy – which wasn't something that happened a lot in England. And I bitched about it; because therapy was an American thing, and I was very British.

However, after just one session with the therapist, she wanted to study me. Apparently I was a good case study because I showed signs of 'The Dark Triad' personalities. Narcissism, Machiavellianism and Psychopathy. Apparently.

I think this is a bunch of bullshit. Yes, I am manipulative. Yes, I am vain. Possibly, I can be antisocial. And, of course, I am a thief who doesn't care about the consequences of her actions. I would never deny any of these – but I don't think they need to diagnose me simply because I am a bitch.