MATED TO THE LYCAN KING

RILEY

I squint my swollen eyes to shield them from the sun as I look up at the tree’s withered branches. I cannot recall a time when it had leaves or even fruits. For as long as I remember, it has always been this dry.

As dry as my life.

Pa has made it a daily activity to tell me to smile. “Princesses never wear how they feel on their faces, so even if one day you forget your name, never forget to smile.” This he would say every night he returned, staggering, booze in hand.

But there was no reason to.

One day, I saw Pa being thrown out of the joint that he frequents for refusing to pay. Well, that was what I was told, but I knew he had no money to pay. He had bruises on his cheeks and neck as if he had been slapped multiple times and strangled.

The ten-year-old me fought back tears as I dragged my stumbling Pa home. He sang out loud like he couldn’t feel an atom of pain or shame.

He seemed extremely happy.

Pa was my all, but a strange kind of anger grew in me that night. I kept quiet, tears rolling down my cheeks as I stared intently at him. He had always been like this. I grew up with the perception that all a father does is to leave in the morning and return late at night, so I learnt to fend for us both; so imagine my shock when I  realized men owned and worked in their farms and plantations.

Mine was just Pa. Pa, who would come home staggering with a huge stench of booze in his breath. Pa, who everyone hid their kids from, as he had been drunk on a full moon night and ended up being a drunk wolf and had chased every child he came across.

Yes. That was my Pa.

His sleepy eyes locked with mine, and on reading my expression, his mouth got to work.

“Princesses never wear how they feel on their…”

“Pa!” I shouted, and the dam broke.

This obviously caught him off guard as his eyes got clear and widened.

“Smile, Princess.”

“Why?” I brushed the tears off and folded my arms.

“Wh..Why?” He frowned.

“People smile when they are happy. Cassy smiles when her Ma makes her a new dress, or makes her a new braid, or when her father pats her head. Riley gets none of that. I don’t even have a Ma, so why should I smile?”

“Cassy? Who’s that?” His frown deepened.

He had never had a good memory.

“Pa, that’s the daughter of the family next door. She’s my friend and her ma brings us food sometimes.”

He nodded. “Oh. So...” his frown returned. “Who’s Riley?”

Ouch.

“Me. I’m Riley.” I tapped my chest.

“Oh,” Pa waved, smiling. “Well, nice to meet you, Riley. I’m Adam, and I always smile. I was born an Omega, the lowest in the hierarchy of werewolves, weak and never respected, but I smile. My wife, mate, and best friend died at childbirth, but I smile. Without her, I feel worthless, but Riley,” a forced bright smile came on his face, “I still smile.”

My heart broke for the thousandth time since I was born.

“Pa. I sometimes don’t remember to smile.” The tears were back.

“Even if one day you forget your name,” he stretched out himself on the bed, closing his eyes, “never forget to smile.”

Then his snores filled the room.

That day, I spoke to myself that I had no right to be sad, and promised myself that no one would ever see me not smiling.

But there just were so many things that could trigger a ten-year-old to tears. But I kept my promise, and ran down here whenever it gets too much.

Today is my third day coming under this tree for solace. I had once asked Pa where I could go find Ma, and he had answered that she was under the tree at the creek. Any wonder why I find peace here?

 I come here to cry.

And the sad situation of the tree makes me feel so sad.

Why would a tree by a waterside be so dry?

I sniff and raise my hands in frustration.

“Why?!”

I wait to hear my voice echo back in response.

“My father said only weird people speak to themselves.” The voice comes from behind.

In fright, I turn to see who owned the voice that had interrupted my Alone Time.

The brightest emeralds I have seen stare back at me. He has small cuts on his left cheek and his lower lip. His light brown hair captures the ray of the sun, adding a glow to his small frame.

Noticing my stare, he gives a broad smile. He winces as the smile stretches the cut on his lip. My eyes zero in on it.

“That must hurt.” I blink when I hear my voice. That was supposed to have been in my thought.

“It does. But don’t worry, I am used to it, and besides, a man needs to feel no pain.”

Man?

I wipe away the little tears remaining in my eyes and scan him up to down. I am ten and a whole foot taller than he is.

“Hey, Little boy, who told you that?” I fold my hands.

“My father. And don’t call me little. I’m seven and big.” He folds his palms and pushes out his chest.

The act makes me throw back my head in laughter.

“Big? My Pa is big. You are not.”

“I am. And if your Pa does not want you anymore, I can be your Pa.”

That reminds me of the reason I am there. Pa had forgotten my name. He is sick, and when I brought him part of the food Cassy’s Ma gave us, he asked who I was. When I wouldn’t answer, he felt ignored and pushed me hard to the floor. I walked down here with a limp.

I hold back tears as they almost spill out.

“Why would you say that?” A tear slides down my cheek.

“You kept on saying that I’m not big. My father says I’m big enough.” He strolls closer to where I stand.

“Then I am bigger.” I almost shout.

“Why?”

I wipe my tears, ready to brag. “I am ten.”

His eyes widen, saucer plate size.

“You are?”

“Yes.”

“Meaning, you can be my Ma if she does not want me anymore?”

“If you will be a good boy, of course. I am my own Ma.”

“Wow. Why?” he squints his eyes, looking really confused.

“My Ma is not here.”

“Where is she?”

I turn to face the tree, then I point at its root. “There.”

His eyes follow the direction of my hand, and he frowns.

“Under the ground? Is she dead?”

“That is what my Pa says.”

“So if my father goes under the ground, I can become my own Pa?” Interest shone in his eyes.

“Hey, that is not a nice thing to say.” I scold.

“Hmm? Why?”

Why?

“Don’t just say that.”

He pouts, avoiding her gaze. Then his mood changes abruptly, and he gives his wide, toothy smile again.

“You answer all my questions. Ma says it’s annoying when I ask many questions.”

“See? You are not big. When you become big, you will know everything, and will not need to ask anybody.”

“Yeah? I’ll be smart like you?”

“Yes.”

We stay quiet till he starts looking at the ground as if searching for something. He moves towards a large fallen tree branch and sits.

“Come sit, Ma.” He beckons, patting a side beside him.

“I’m not your Ma.” I protest, but still walk over there and sit.

“Do you think this branch fell from this tree where your Ma is?” he asks.

“I don’t know. But I feel like the tree is as dry as my life.”

“How?”

“A tree should have leaves. But it doesn’t.”

“Why?”

“I can’t say. But it would have been so beautiful if it had flowers.”

“Why?”

“Flowers are beautiful.”

“Flowers smell.”

“No, they don’t. I love flowers, and when I grow up and get married, I will have my own garden.” I can’t help the smile that comes to my face.

“When you become my Ma, though I don’t like them, I will get you many beautiful flowers. Pretty flowers just like you.” He has his chest puffed out again.

“Cassy’s ma says I’m pretty and will one day get married to a prince.”

His pout returns.

“No, you are mine. Not for any prince. For me.”

He looks as if he is on the verge of tears, but stares straight into my eyes and begins to whisper words cannot hear.

“Hmm?” I ask.

But he ignores me and instead of answering me, he pinches deeper into the cut on his cheek, drawing blood.

“Hey, don’t do that. It was almost healed.” I scold, reaching for his hand.

He pulls his hand away. With a serious expression on his face, he places the bloodied fingers on the side of my neck.

“Eww.” I pull away and stand up.

He replies with a very weird grin. Then I feel a sharp pinch where his blood is.

“Ouch.”

The pinch, very quickly, becomes a slight burn.

Then it stops.

All this while. The grin hasn’t left his face, so I give him a straight look.

“You should say sorry when you hurt someone. Instead, you are smiling? Little boy.” I stick out my tongue at him.

“Hey. I’m not…”

I don’t wait for his response as I turn and run.

Without looking back