The Alpha's Mute Mate

I stare at my reflection in the old antique mirror of Moonlight Books, tilting my head to the side as I check myself out. Biting my bottom lip, I wonder what Kevin would think of my outfit. Marie, my wolf, says it's cute and he'll love it, but I still have my doubts. My boyfriend tends to make me feel like I'm wearing rags even when I have on my nicest clothes. Of course, he doesn't say it to my face, but I can still tell when he thinks crap of my outfit. It's always written all over his face.

Looking away from the mirror, I consider if I should run home and change before meeting him at the party. But a glance at the clock on the wall makes me wince. 8:45 PM – fifteen minutes past closing time. I'm already running late.

My fingers fly across my phone's screen as I type out a quick message to Kevin.

"Sorry, running a bit behind. Be there soon! ❤️"

I pocket the device without waiting for a response and turn my attention to the task of closing up the bookstore. The smell of old paper and leather bindings fills my nostrils as I move through the narrow aisles, straightening a book here, adjusting a display there. It's a comforting scent, one that usually brings me peace. Tonight, however, it only serves to remind me of how much time I'm losing.

As I work, I catch sight of my reflection again. A young woman of about twenty stares back at me, honey-brown eyes magnified slightly behind wire-rimmed glasses. My chestnut hair is pulled back in a messy bun, a few strands escaping to frame my heart-shaped face. I look tired, the kind of bone-deep weariness that comes from juggling college classes, a part-time job, and the constant vigilance required to keep my true nature hidden.

Because I'm not just an ordinary college student working in a quaint bookstore. I'm a werewolf – and a mute one at that.

My life is a delicate balance of normalcy and secrecy. By day, I attend classes at the local university, scribbling notes and communicating through sign language. By night, I fight against the pull of the moon, the wildness in my blood that longs to be free. And through it all, I adhere to my aunt's strict rule: no dating werewolves.

It's a rule that has always puzzled me. Surely, another werewolf would understand me better? But my aunt is adamant, insisting it's for my own protection. And so, I found Kevin – human, kind, and seemingly understanding of my unique situation.

A glance at my watch sends a jolt of panic through me. 9:10 PM. The party will be in full swing by now, and I'm still here, surrounded by the quiet whispers of countless books.

I rush through the rest of my closing routine, my movements a blur as I count the till, shut down the computer, and flick off the lights. My heart races as I finally lock the front door, the cool night air a stark contrast to the stuffy warmth of the bookstore.

I practically run down the sidewalk, my sensible flats slapping against the pavement. The full moon hangs low and heavy in the sky, its silvery light casting long shadows across my path. I can feel its pull, the way it makes my skin tingle and my blood sing. But I push the sensation away, focusing instead on the steady rhythm of my feet hitting the ground.

The party is being held at a friend's house just a few blocks from campus. As I approach, I can hear the dull thump of music and the low hum of voices. I pause for a moment to catch my breath, smoothing down my hair and straightening my clothes. Then, with a deep breath to steel my nerves, I make my way up the front walk.

The door is unlocked, swinging open easily at my touch. The interior of the house is a chaos of noise and movement. Bodies press close together, swaying to the music that seems to vibrate through the very walls. The air is thick with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and excitement.

My heightened senses make it all overwhelming for a moment. I close my eyes, take another deep breath, and then begin to weave my way through the crowd. My gaze darts from face to face, searching for Kevin's familiar features.

I find him in the kitchen, but the sight that greets me makes my heart stutter to a stop.

Kevin is there, alright. But he isn't alone. He's pressed up against the counter, his arms wrapped around a petite blonde I vaguely recognize from one of my classes. And they're kissing – not the quick, friendly peck of casual acquaintances, but the deep, passionate embrace of lovers.

For a long moment, I can't move. I stand frozen in the doorway, my mind struggling to process what my eyes are seeing. The music fades to a dull roar in my ears, drowned out by the thundering of my own heartbeat.

Then, as if sensing my presence, Kevin looks up. His eyes widen as they meet mine, a flicker of guilt crossing his face before it's quickly replaced by something harder, almost defiant.

My hands tremble as I reach for my phone. The realization hits me like a physical blow – Kevin never bothered to learn sign language. Even now, in this moment of betrayal, I have to rely on technology to voice my pain. My fingers shake as I type, tears blurring my vision.

"How could you?" I manage to type out, holding up the screen for him to see.

Kevin disentangles himself from the blonde, who has the decency to look embarrassed. He takes a step towards me, his expression a mix of annoyance and false concern.

"Oh, come on, Eveline," he says, his words slightly slurred. "You can't honestly be surprised. Did you really think this was going to work long-term?"

I feel as if I've been slapped. My fingers fly across the screen, desperate to keep up with the torrent of emotions coursing through me. But it's too slow, too impersonal. I want to scream, to howl my pain and rage, but the words are trapped inside me, choking me.

"What are you talking about? I thought we were happy. I thought you understood." I thrust the phone at him, my hand shaking so badly I nearly drop it.

Kevin lets out a harsh laugh, the sound grating against my sensitive ears. "Understood what? That I'd have to spend the rest of my life with someone who can't even talk to me properly? 

Each word is like a dagger, piercing through the careful defenses I've built around my heart. I can feel the eyes of the partygoers on me, can smell their curiosity and pity. It makes my skin crawl. I type furiously, tears now streaming down my face, but Kevin speaks again before I can show him my response.

"You know, it's kind of pathetic," Kevin sneers, his gaze raking over me, cold and dismissive. "You actually thought I took you serious."

The words hang in the air, sharp and poisonous. I feel something inside me shatter, a howl of pain and rage building in my chest with nowhere to go. My vision blurs, whether from tears or the beginnings of a transformation, I can't tell.

I want to argue, to defend myself, to make him understand the depth of his betrayal. But the words are stuck in my throat, and my fingers feel numb and clumsy on the phone screen. The frustration of not being able to express myself, to scream out my pain, is overwhelming.

Without another attempt at communication, I turn and flee. I push past the confused partygoers, ignoring their startled exclamations as I burst out of the house and into the night. The cool air hits me like a physical force, but I don't slow down. I run, my feet pounding against the pavement, each step taking me further away from the scene of my humiliation.

As I run, I let out silent screams, my mouth open in a soundless howl of anguish. The words I couldn't type, couldn't sign, couldn't speak, fuel my flight into the darkness.

The sobs come then, silent and wracking. I curl in on myself, my body shaking with the force of my grief. Above me, the moon continues its silent journey across the sky, indifferent to the pain of the creature below.

In this moment, surrounded by the whispers of the forest and the cold light of the moon, I've never felt more alone. The silence that has been my constant companion now seems to mock me, a void that can never be filled.

As the night wears on, my sobs gradually subside, replaced by a hollow emptiness. I sit up slowly, wiping at my tear-stained cheeks with trembling hands. The events of the evening play over and over in my mind, each replay bringing a fresh wave of pain and humiliation.

I had trusted Kevin, had believed that he saw past my differences to the person I am inside. But in the end, he had seen me as nothing more than a curiosity, a temporary diversion. The realization hurts more than any physical wound ever could.

As I sit here, surrounded by the quiet of the forest, I find myself questioning everything. My aunt's rule about not dating werewolves suddenly seems less about protection and more about isolation. Was I wrong to try and fit into the human world? Is there a place for someone like me – caught between two worlds, unable to fully belong to either?