BLOODBOUND: THE LAST MATE

A Life Full of Shadows

Lena’s POV

“Lena, get up!” 

A quick blast of cold water splashed in my face and I blinked and felt a shiver of the coldness going through my bones. My attention had caught who it was. I didn’t need to open my eyes to recognize that sharp voice. It was my mother. Again.

I moaned, and intended to roll over, but the blanket had been torn already off of me. There was a cold breeze coming through the window in the kitchen and I cowered.

“Up. Now. You mustn't make me say so again,” she snapped her steps screeching along the walk.

This was my every morning. My name is Lena Maren Wilder, and I live in a house where I am invisible unless there’s work to be done.

I wanted to sleep longer. Last night’s pack patrol had run until nearly 4 a.m., and I was still aching from the run through the mountain woods. But none of that mattered to my mom. She said it didn’t matter if I was a shifter or not, I was still a girl, and a girl should not sleep past eight. She said I’d brought shame to the family already. That I had no right to rest.

No matter how many times I explained my late duties, she wouldn’t listen. She never did.

Slowly I sat up, feeling a headache. If I didn’t take a break I would lose my head. My body was exhausted but my heart was more exhausted from trying, of hoping, of caring. However, I got up because no option was available to me. I had to clean the house before school, just like always.

Our home was small, just three bedrooms. My parents had one. My two older brothers shared the others. I wasn’t given a room at all. Initially, I slept in the living room where I did not have privacy. Then I requested to be shifted to the storage room at the back. It was dusty, and large enough to give me room enough to sleep in my bed and a shelf. I rendered it my own in spite of it still smelling of cleaning chemicals and mold.

It is not the small size of the room, but the fact that no one appreciated the amount I did. I cleaned, cooked, read, and did a part-time job in a local cafe, and yet I did not forget about my responsibilities to the pack. However, nobody ever appreciated me. When I slept late or woke late, I used to be scolded. In the meantime my brothers were able to sleep all they please, and nobody said a word. My mother claimed they were tired from “important work.” Did she not think my work mattered too?

It hurt. It really did. She used to carry me, braid my hair and sing to me before I went to bed when I was still a little kid. I couldn’t remember when it stopped. One day she just turned cold, distant. As if she was reprimanding me for something I didn’t know what it was.

Nevertheless, there was nothing I gave up. I had a desire to become strong. I wanted to show that I did not require anybody. I was a working girl. I took care of myself. However, the thing is that sometimes I merely wished to be held, not as a warrior. Not as a servant. Just as a daughter.

I have done folding laundry, swept floors and made one-quick- sandwich for lunch. Then I stashed my books and laced up my beat up sneakers. I had 10 minutes to run to school.

The streets were empty. Clouds crossed over the sun, leaving the already heavy morning feeling even more heavy. I strode fast, embracing my jacket tight. My legs were sore from running yesterday night. I was freezing after scrubbing the dishes this morning.

I was not watching the road very carefully and I stepped on a piece of broken pavement. I caught my foot on a sharp rock, and fell on it. I was about to plump down face-foremost on cold ground, when two powerful arms gripped me by the waist.

There was a warm smell on my nose, something like spice and firewood. My heart skipped.

“You okay?” a voice asked, calm and deep.

I knew that voice. I didn’t have to look to know who it was. Kade. The new boy. The one with dark hair and quiet eyes who always sat alone at the back of class.

But now he was holding me. His arms were strong yet tender. My cheeks flushed with shame. 

I gradually got to my feet, shaking off my coat. I didn’t see his eyes.

“I—I’m fine,” I whispered.

He looked at me for a long moment. “You were about to faceplant,” he said, almost smiling.

I glanced up for half a second. His eyes weren’t dark, they were silver. Like the moon on a stormy night.

My heart beat faster. “Oh. “Hey, Kade,” I said, attempting to appear nonchalant. 

I didn’t notice I was still looking at him until he slightly tilted his head. 

"Are you certain you're alright?" he inquired once more. 

I nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just... tired. Rough night.”

He cast a glance at the slight nick in my wrist, the one that I got during the training session in the woods.

“Tou do not..”, he said softly, “look like a person who slept easily.”

A moment I supposed there was more in it. Something more.

Before I could respond, he stepped back, letting me stand on my own.

“Well,” he said, voice still calm. “See you inside.”

And just like that, he walked off. I stood there in the cold, my heartbeat echoing in my ears.

I didn’t know much about Kade. But I knew one thing, he wasn’t normal. Not with that moonlight in his eyes. Not with that warmth in his touch.

And neither was I.