All Chapters of Born Human: Claimed by an Alpha: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

I told mom and Steve everything ~ how I got roped into attending a diplomatic meeting in Canada, meeting Evander, deciding to run, and then leaving with Alessia.By the time I was done recounting the story, they were both staring at me in disbelief. I couldn’t really blame them. The past week of my life had been crazy, like the plot of some romance novel you found thrown in the clearance section at Barnes & Noble.Except this wasn’t fiction. Werewolves, royalty, and possessive mates ~ this was my actual life.“Oh my,” my mother muttered, and she exchanged glances with Steve. “Scarlett, I…don’t even know what to say.”Steve looked just as shaken.“L know it’s a lot,” I said, “And if you don’t want me here, I would understand. It’s a risk asking you guys to get involved.I could find somewhere else to go.” “What? No,” Steve’s voice boomed across the room, “No way we’re letting you fend for yourself, kid.” He turned to my mom, and she nodded in agreement.“Steve is right, Scarlett,” she

It had been nearly two weeks since I’d arrived in Yorba Linda, and each day that passed without incident allowed me to slowly relax. I felt like I was slowly sinking into the easy routine that came with living here.Neither my dad nor Evander had shown up, banging on the door and ready to drag me back. Even if my dad had known I was visiting mom, he still wouldn’t have found me ~ not unless he’d been keeping close tabs on her whereabouts for the past seven years.) There’s no way Luna Grace would’ve been cool with that.And if Evander hadn’t been able to find me yet, maybe he’d already given up. I knew he’d gone to Blacktooth Pack a week ago. That's how my dad knew I was even missing at all but I hadn’t heard anything more about him since.He’s probably already moved on. Maybe he’s taking applications for his new Queen. I!Somehow, that thought didn’t feel comforting to me. By the time Friday, the day I had agreed to see the movie with Aiden, rolled around, I was more relaxed than eve

Lused to volunteer at the animal shelter with Uncle Steve when I was seven or eight. Most of my time there is a blur, but I remember how we captured feral cats so they could be spayed or neutered at the shelter.We’d buy those live traps, stick a little cat food inside, and wait for the next hungry stray to wander by. I remember how those feral cats would look when they stumbled upon the trap.First, they’d wander into the trap cautiously and sniff out the food. There would be a split second where their animal eyes would light up, and you could tell they thought they’d just found the cat-version of the lottery.But just as they began digging in, the trap would swing shut. The cats always knew they were trapped immediately. They would paw at the door and hiss when you got too close. But they knew they were caught.The terror in their eyes used to bother me as a kid even if Steve was always quick to remind me that we were helping these cats. Sometimes I would wonder what it felt like t

Punishment?He’s going to punish me?Evander had said it so casually, like he was telling me about the weather or asking me my favorite food.“Punishment?” I echoed, craning my n*eck to look up at him. Tucked into his side, it strained my n*eck to make eye contact with him but I managed.A slow smirk spread across his face. My reaction didn’t seem to surprise him at all, and if anything, he just looked amused.What a sadist. He enjoys freaking me out like this.“Yes, little fox,” he said, and his tone was almost mocking, “If I don’t punish you, how will you learn your lesson?”Oh, God. He’s actually serious, he’s not just joking. “I don’t understand…how would you punish me?” I asked. I couldn’t possibly imagine what Evander’s “punishment” would entail. Was he planning to lock me up in the dungeon or something?Or was this more of a time-out-sit-in-the-comer sort of deal? Both options didn’t seem appealing, and the very thought of a “punishment” made me feel like a misbehaving child. M

I've never thought of myself as explicitly beautiful. Pretty, maybe if I was having a good day. But I had never seen myself as a supermodel or even the kind of girl that people looked at twice. Growing up around tall, thin and chiseled people for most of my life might’ve had something to do with that.However, as I stared at the art studio littered with paintings, sketches, and drawings of me, I couldn’t help but think I looked beautiful in them. The artist had captured my likeness from every angle ~ there was a large oil painting of me sprawled out in b*d, a sketch of me smiling in the distance, and many more. Some of them were done in different styles but all looked like candid moments, like the artist had been there and recreated them from memory.Istared at a particular sketch of me staring down at a dinner plate. I recognized the food in the photo and the dress I was wearing. That hadbeen taken the night of the dinner party with Evander.Oh my God…he made these. He made all of