The Lycan's Possession

The night was lively as all pack members of the Night Crawler Pack gathered to witness the first shift of the pups who had come of age. Tonight, under the moonlight and before their goddess, they will witness this life-changing event.

  Children between the ages of five and eight have all awaited this day along with their parents. The night of the blood moon, which comes once every four years, was finally here, and the children couldn’t wait to meet their wolves.

  Once a shifter gets a wolf, they will immediately be considered full-fledged members of the pack and one who can bring great contribution to the kingdom and realm at large. 

  Esme once experienced this adrenalin that came with that anticipation. How long ago was that again? Yes, that was eleven years at the age of seven when she also stood along with children her age before the goddess to be blessed with a wolf. That ritual had ended, and only she was left standing on her two feet while others walked about in their new skins. On all fours. 

  That night had broken her, but she had no other choice but to keep living.

  Standing behind a tree way behind the crowd, Esme peered through the little gap among the people watching as the first pup shifted into a beautiful gray wolf. Next to him was a little girl at the age of five who shifted into a golden-colored wolf, and the crowd cheered. A small but sad smile curved up at the corner of her lips in self-pity.

  “Like what you see?” The familiar voice of the alphason, Dawson, came from beside her, startling in the process, and she nearly whelped but was quick to restrain herself.

  Esme didn't reply and just stared at her feet. She knew why he was, and that was to ridicule her.

  “Unlike you, everyone in the pack has something to offer. Even children have more to offer than you do." He paused and looked at her meaningfully, "How long ago were you their age again…?” Dawson dramatically tapped his chin in a thoughtful motion. “Right, more than a decade ago,” he scoffed at her.

  Esme bit down on her tongue to prevent a retort. Her fist clenched at her side and nails, digging into the palm of her hands. 

  “Why are you even here? Do you think you will be granted a wolf by coming here?” he sneered. “Don't make me laugh, Esmeralda,” he roughly pulled her close, and she hissed at the force of his grip and pulled on her arm. 

  “Get out of here and go make yourself useful. Prepare for the after-party” he said, and roughly let go, pushing her backward, and she was left stumbling and struggling to maintain her footing.

  Esme glared at him with a fiery intent to kill, but to him, she looked like a kitten trying to prove it got claws.

  “Careful with her Dawson,” Alpha Dane's voice echoed, and Esme tensed up while Dawson snickered. “In a few hours, she might just become useful. We don't want her damaged before that,” Dane added.

  Esme felt like crying. Hell, the tears were already ready to spill, but she stubbornly held them back, not wanting to show any more weakness. She gritted her teeth as she bowed her head and acknowledged Dane, “Alpha.”

  Dane looked at her with a raised brow. He had expected that but couldn't help being surprised at how well she could control her emotions and act deaf all the time. He knew what they said both hurt and angered her, but here she was, even with tears glistening in her eyes. She still acted cool and calm. Her face lowered and hidden behind her silky white locks.

  “Leave here and do as told. Don't jinx this occasion with presence,” Dane coldly said to her. He saw as her body trembled with visible anger and hurt, but it all added to his amusement. Her unbending spirit was also a huge contributor to their desire to break her. They wanted to see just how far and how long it would take before she broke, and it seemed they were getting there. 

  “Yes, Alpha,” Esme replied, and turned around to leave but halted mid-step when she heard Dawson speak,

  “Try not to break anything and ruin the party,” he said with a smirk playing on his lips. It was delightful getting on her skin and watching it crumble over and over again but still do nothing about it because there was nothing that she could do.

  Esme didn't reply to him and silently walked away. She should have stayed in her room. Coming down to watch the pups shift was a very bad decision she made. She wouldn't have had to hear these hurtful words had she stayed in her room. Though she said these words to herself, she knew deep down that they would still have found a way to hurt her.

  As soon as she walked through the door of the packhouse, a spoon came flying towards her head, which she didn't sense quickly enough to dodge. She fell on her buttocks and wince, “Arhh…” she let out a soft sob. Touching her face where the spoon had made contact, her eyes widened as it came in contact with a warm liquid. 

  Blood. She was bleeding from the side of her head. As if to confirm her fears, the blood dripped down from her chin to the floor, and her heart sunk. How many times has she been wounded this week? She has lost count. 

  “Where were you? Huh?” Esme didn't need to ask who threw the spoon at her as that question answered itself even before she could voice it out. “I have been here working while you…what have you been doing? Acting like a guest of the pack while I work as your maid?”

  Esme raised her head and found Ophelia Lancaster glaring sharply at her with her hands folded across her chest. In her eyes, Esme was nothing but a nuisance. One worthy of nothing but a slave. Her condescending gaze was more than enough to make that clear to Esme.

  “I am sorry,” Esme replied and tried to stand up, but before she could, Ophelia stepped on the back of her palm, causing her more pain than she already was in. Ophelia was two years younger than Esme, but Esme had to treat her like the roles were reversed simply because Ophelia was a Lancaster and Esme—the unwanted one.

  “That's more like it,” she said with a satisfied smirk on her lips as she watched Esme struggle to hold back her cries. Her expression of pain and anguish was satisfying to see. “Get working quickly,” Ophelia ordered as she took her foot off Esme's hand. “Start with your disgusting blood which you have smeared all over the place. Even its smell is repulsive.”

With that, Ophelia strutted away, leaving Esme to stare at her back. She looked around and found the omegas looking at her with pity in their eyes, but none came to assist her. She couldn't blame them. They were merely omegas with no power of their own. But unlike her, they had their wolves.