The Scars You Left Behind [on hold]

And So Their Hate Story Begins

CHAPTER FIVE

   "You've got to be joking." Emily scoffed at Greyson's words. It was impossible that her mate was in the pack house at this very moment. Emily began to get a little angry, believing that Greyson was just messing with her.

"I'm not, Emily. You're a future Luna, but of whose pack – I don't know. Do you want to go look for him?" Greyson asked calmly as Emily's eyes averted to the cement below her feet. She had to take a moment to register everything.

Her mate, the person she would be spending the rest of her life with was here. Emily wasn't sure that she wanted to meet him just yet. She was only sixteen years old, and most wolves don't meet their mate until they're in their early twenties. Emily wanted more experience. She wasn't sure if she wanted to settle down just yet, and she still had one more year of high school left. She wasn't ready. Not yet.

"No, I don't want to go look for him. If anything, I want you to help me hide from him." Emily's words shocked Greyson. He had never imagined Emily as someone who didn't want to meet their mate yet. He figured that she'd be jumping for joy and running around looking for him, but she wasn't. That just intrigued Greyson more.

   "I need to go and start getting ready for the Ball." Emily said, standing up. Greyson stood with her with his eyebrows raised.

   "The dance isn't until eight, it's only ten in the morning." Greyson got the sense that Emily just wanted to get away and have some time alone, but he wanted her to admit it.

   Emily pursed her lips, "Well, beauty takes time, Grey." Her face didn't show much emotion because of how hard she was thinking at the moment. Greyson just chuckled a little before nodding.

   "Save me a dance?" Greyson asked as Emily turned and began walking away. Emily turned back around to face him but kept walking backwards, a smile on her face. "Sure, why not?"

   She turned back around and kept walking until she got back to her room, leaving Greyson to stand and sulk about how he had only met Emily yesterday and his feelings were already slightly growing for her.

   Too bad he'd have to end her life later that night, at the Masquerade Ball.

+

   It was now seven-fifty, and Emily was completely ready. She had put her dress on over thirty minutes ago, after she finished putting her makeup and her mom did her hair which was just simply curled since she never curled her hair. Emily's hair was always straight, she just thought it was easier to deal with, although she did like it when her hair was curled.

   There was a sudden knock on Emily's door, bringing her out of her thoughts. Emily turned around from the boy length mirror to see her mother standing there in the beautiful indigo dress which she helped pick out. The masks that they both were to wear were in both of Eliza's hands.

   "Awe, honey, you look beautiful! Even better than you did when you first tried the dress on." Eliza gushed at her daughter. Emily just smiled back.

   "Not as beautiful as you, mother." Emily joked, but she really did mean it. Her mother looked stunning and quite young for her actual age.

   Eliza handed Emily her mask, "Come now, we must be on our way. It is already five until eight." Emily laughed at her mother's fake British accent, pulling on her mask as her mother did also. They both looped their arms together before walking out of Emily's room where George was waiting, his green and black mask already on his face.

   "Well aren't you lucky," George laughed, confusing Emily with his words. She flashed him a clueless stare, causing him to explain as they all made their way to the ballroom. "You got the good genes from your mom and I." That made Emily smile.