Chapter Twelve: Scars.

Stark's point of view.

I watch her cutely coil up in her sleep, drawing the covers closer. Aside from my mother, she is the most gorgeous lady I have ever encountered, and I am pleased that she belongs to me. Not even the irritating boyfriend will have a chance.

I gritted my teeth as I remembered that day. He continued phoning, which upset me. I became enraged and ended up picking up the phone to curse the fucker out. I didn't want to be possessive around her, but I couldn't stop myself at that time.

Fuck him. She's mine only.

A tiny sigh came from her lips, and I returned my focus to the damsel in front of me. Gorgeous.

I approach closer and take a quiet seat on the tiny chair by the bed. She mumbles some incomprehensible things, and I see a tear fall from her right eye. She has no idea that every night, I watch her sleep like a captivated foolish stalker. Especially when she passed out for two fucking days due to the pains from shifting. I felt restless and unable to sleep. For the first time in my life, I was actually terrified.

I sighed, pushing the memories away. I did not wish to recollect them. Then I use my hand to gently wipe the tear off her chin. I didn't plan for her to have such a horrible panic attack. I overreacted and became overly harsh. I simply forgot she was still so delicate, and there is no explanation to justify my actions.

"I'm sorry," I mumble and push the strand of hair that had fallen on her cheek. She cuddled deeper into the covers in response, and a gentle moan escaped her lips.

When I remember how she stood up to me, a grin spreads across my face. She was the type of person who would jump at the slightest sound, yet she stood up to me just now. I adored that side. She drove me mad, and I loved it. When I first found she was being abused at her father's house, I was furious, and it took all I had not to tear her so-called stepmother apart. I swear to the moon goddess, I truly wanted to, but I knew my mate would not enjoy it if I did. She has such a pure heart that I was terrified to bring her home. I did not want to bring her into my world. There is nothing safe about it, and I would die if something happened to her.

I knew I had lied when I said I wasn't going to defend her. I lied when I stated she meant nothing to me. I lied when I stated I didn't want to marry her, and it is wrong for me to do so. But I cannot let her become entangled with me. No. I'm a complete mess, and she would be devastated if she discovered the things I've done.

The human world appeared so peaceful, and I wanted to keep her away from the dangerous werewolf lifestyle, but then the dumb mother showed up and made an offer I couldn't refuse. Part of the reason was that I saw it as a chance to take her away. Away from the so-called home. Then, as luck would have it, she shifted on the same night, forcing me to carry her home. I ultimately had to accept the truth. She was a werewolf and had to live as such. She must train to become strong and independent. I can't always be there to protect her, and I can't risk losing her now that I've finally found her.

I gently push the chair back and rise up, but not before dropping a kiss on her forehead.

"Dad." I shouted out over the mind-link as soon as I walked out of the room.

"When will you go home? I'm in need of your help."

He takes a while to reply.

"Now you do. Your mother informed me you fouled things up. He chuckles, finally responding to me, and I roll my eyes even though he can't see me. I did not allow him to.

"I know, and that's why I need your help."

****

Amelia's Point of View.

I'm not sure how long I had slept, but when I awoke, it was already dark. I sit up in bed and stretch my sore muscles. These days, I've been sleeping a lot. It's laziness, and I need to do something with my life.

Someone downstairs was clattering silverware on a tray and closing cabinet doors. I could also hear some faraway folks conversing and laughing. I didn't understand what they were saying; I only heard their voices. It's astonishing how readily I could hear them from a distance. Even my sense of smell had improved: when I breathed a small amount, I could recognize the aroma of whatever or whomever I inhaled without seeing. I suppose that's one of the advantages of being a werewolf. Enhanced sense of smell and hearing.

Standing up, I walked to the toilet and entered, quickly closing the door behind me. Then I sat in the toilet basin to empty my hurting bladder. When I was finished, I washed up and went to the mirror. I removed the sticky clothes from my body and stood straight to look at my reflection in the mirror. My body wasn't flawless, but it was very acceptable.

I turn to see the scars and burns on my little left leg, down to my big hip. They were now healed and had totally transformed into scars. I don't remember how I acquired it, but Mom said it was from a car accident in which we all happily survived. I was five years old at the time, and the accident had left me with no memory. So I don't recall what occurred or what my life was like before the disaster. I simply lived with the scars that revealed what had occurred to me.

I stroked the white, fading scars on my flesh and let out a little sigh. If my parents had not given birth to me. I need to find my biological parents, which can only be done if I stay. They had to be in the werewolf realm, and I will marry Stark if it means finding them. I simply wished they were still alive so I could receive my answers.

It was about six p.m. now. Dinner would soon be served, so I returned to my room to change into a pair of clean, loose joggers and a black shirt.

I didn't bother styling my hair and instead tied it into a loose bun. I take my phone and leave the room with a single goal in mind.

To sign that paperwork.