Howling Beauty

Davina’s POV

I woke up to a burning sensation in my hand, I groggily turned my hand around, trying not to wince as the small movement intensified the pain, it was the tattoo on my wrist. It had suddenly showed up in my hand when I was eight years old, I live with my parents and two older siblings, Brian and Elizabeth, they were twins, my parents were the alpha and Luna of my pack, my older brother was the future alpha while my older sister had the luxury of being an alpha’s daughter and she enjoyed it to the fullest. I tried to tell my parents about tattoo but they never listened, they were so busy fawning about Brian and Elizabeth who had just had their first shift so I was just completely forgotten. After they were done praising my siblings who had not ‘disappointed them’, they lovingly told me how they looked forward to my first shift and what I had tried to tell them was long forgotten. They threw a party to celebrate the first shift of the pack’s future alpha while I looked sullen with jealousy but I had no clue that the moment was the best of the worst to come.

The tattoo had just been there like it was nothing, it felt like a brand but it was so much more, my parents never cared enough to ask about it. When it was time for my first shift, everyone looked forward to it but my parents, not so much. Despite how young I was, I could see it in their eyes that they were not as enthusiastic as when it was my older siblings first shift. At the end of the day, to my greatest horror, nothing happened, nothing changed, no cracking or shifting of bones, no fur, no paw or tail, absolutely nothing. For the first time, I was really scared, I was afraid to see the disgust on the face of my parents and pack members. My siblings laughed at me and I was secretly scorned by everyone, my parents assured me that I might be a late bloomer which was rare but not uncommon so I kept my hopes up. When I turned fifteen, the time a normal late bloomer should have shifted, I still didn’t show any signs of being a shifter, I was tagged wolfless

It was the worse day of my life.

But the worst was still yet to come.

I cried all day, I was ashamed, I didn’t know what had gone wrong, I did not understand why I wasn’t like my siblings and all I had to show was a stupid wolf tattoo. From that day onwards, I became Davina, a seventeen years old girl without a wolf. I didn’t have the luxury of using my family’s last name all because of that one issue. I was wolfless, I wasn’t like any other werewolf because I didn’t have a wolf despite being born from two purebred wolves. My parents loving nature towards me suddenly changed, I was moved from my room to a small, dusty attic. That wasn’t the end of it, the pride of being the alpha’s youngest daughter was snatched from me when my parents made an announcement that they only had two children and that I was never their child, they said that they had found me in front of the pack boundaries and they raised me to be a maid for them.

I was horrified, it all became clear to me, the reason why I didn’t take any of the features of my parents, everyone in the family had hazel brown eyes but mine was blue, their hair was blond but mine was black and I even had perfect skin without needing skincare products: something Elizabeth needed the most. I was said to be human which could explain why I didn’t have a wolf, to me, it wasn’t a logical reason because I had a wolf tattoo in my hand but it looked dull like a drawing so I kept this thought to myself. Thanks to my parents announcement, I was being treated as a slave. I was given all sort of names, my siblings and friends scorned me and looked for various means to push me around or get me punished.

The punishment weren’t severe at all, I would mostly be starved for a day but with time, it increased. I became the pack’s punching bag, they would hit me to let out their frustrations and grievances or for no reason. Day by day, the bruises on my flawless skin increased, new wounds were created and old wounds were never given a chance to heal. This was the worst moments of my life, I felt alone, abandoned, I prayed earnestly, I prayed for a miracle that would change my situation but it never came.

I don’t understand why the tattoo would be causing me so much pain after years of being dormant on my skin. I summed up the reason for the tattoo, it wasn’t a brand but a curse. If it hadn’t showed up in my earlier years, maybe my life would have been different.

After a few seconds, the pain stopped and the mark receded to being the plain, boring tattoo on my skin. My peaceful slumber was officially over as the alarm rang, I immediately turned it off before anyone could wake up, my family could be the worst if forcefully awakened from their sleep. I quietly rushed to the kitchen to make breakfast, each time I dropped a cutlery or slammed the cupboard door a little too loud, I would stop to listen if anyone was stirring from their beds but fortunately, no one got up. I set the table and returned to my room before they woke up, I tried to limit my presence around them to prevent more beatings from them.

“Wake up you bitch!!, Where the hell is my breakfast!” I heard my brother yelling followed by a loud crash of glasses probably shattered into a million pieces. Behind the closed door of my room, I knew what was coming after this. Another round of beating. I was scared, worried, scarred for life, I was broken, shattered, in pain but I couldn’t call out for help cause I was useless, a waste of space, time and air. These words has been forever drilled into my head and mind and carved in my heart by the ones I called family.

“Shut up Brian, use your nose.” I heard Elizabeth scold him with a soft tone of voice, something she had never used when she addressed me.

Whenever we had visitors from other packs, she was the sweetest angel but behind closed doors, she was a devil. She had a specific way of inflicting pain on me, she would push office pins through my fingers with a sardonic smile on her face. Brian enjoyed cutting my skin with sharp objects while my mother enjoyed using a whip on me. For some strange reason, I don’t hate them and I still treated them like family because they raised me and took care of me for the first fifteen years, I strongly hoped that someday they would be enlightened by the moon goddess and start to treat me better.

“Davina!” I was about to fall asleep when I heard my mother yell my name.

I rushed down the attic to the dining area as fast as I could. “Yes mother” I replied and bowed my head to the ground, she had warned me never to look at her face when she was addressing me .

“Where were you?” Elizabeth inquired.

“I was uh-”

“Forget it. Today, you’ll be doing the laundry, the tapestries must be washed-”

“But I washed that yesterday.” I unconsciously interrupted and I felt a slap on my cheek, my legs gave out under me and I fell on the ground.

“Don’t you dare speak when the Luna is addressing you” Brian sternly warned me, I could see the look of approval on my mother’s face and it hurt me the more. He grabbed me up and left me to steady myself before he wiped his hand on a nap as if he had touched something disgusting.

Me.

I often wondered why I had not tried to run away but I realized that I didn’t have the courage to, I feared what might happen if I got caught and I might be mistaken for a rogue if I wandered into another pack’s territories and I have heard that no one had mercy on rogues unless you wind up being a mate to one of the pack members.

“You must wash the tapestries, draperies, the ribbons, rugs, bedsheets, duvet and quilts. Tomorrow is the Mate choosing and I’m sure that my children will find their mates so I want the house clean without a speck of dust. Am I clear?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“You can leave.” She dismissed me with the wave of her hand, I didn’t miss the sneer that Elizabeth sends in my direction. She mouthed ‘Weak’ at me.

Welcome to my Cinderella lifestyle.

I didn’t need anyone to tell me that I won’t be allowed to attend the Mate Choosing. It was a wolves gathering that is organized in a neutral territory every year, every unmated werewolf in the country had a chance to attend it from the moment they turn seventeen and the age limit is twenty four years old. From what I had heard, the gathering had helped a lot of mates meet each other and the chances of meeting your fated half was about fifty percent. There are two reasons you might not meet your mate the moment you turn seventeen, first, either your mate was not old enough or had died and the second is, your mate lived in a different country.

Brian and Elizabeth who are two years older than me had attended two Mate Choosing but they haven’t met their second half, Elizabeth was starting to think that their mates were probably twins who lived in a different country, it was rare for twins to be mated to twins but not impossible. The chances of me having a mate was negative zero, my mother told me that it would never happen and I don’t dare to dream, while Elizabeth constantly reminded me that I was worthless and no one will ever want me.

They were right.

I truly am worthless.

I couldn’t even stand up for myself, why would a wolf want to choose a weak girl to mate with.

It was a few hours past noon when I finished with all of my chores. As I heard the front door slam shut, I let out a huge sigh of relief, my mother and siblings were going shopping once again because they strongly believed that they were going to meet their mates the next day and Elizabeth wanted to look stunning. My father lived in the pack house and hardly returned so I was safe, for now. I had a few hours all to myself. I immediately rushed to the bathroom, brushed my teeth and decided to have the pleasure of warm bath which I hardly have access to.

I winced as the water cascade down my bruised skin causing more pain than relief. After the pained pleasure of ten minutes, I got out of the bathroom, got dressed in a faded jeans and tee shirt, a jacket ripped in some places to hide the blue and purplish bruises in my arms and light makeup to hide the dark circles in my eyes and the skin that was turning yellow because of lack of proper medical treatment. I used my fingers to comb through my black hair and tied it into a messy bun on top of my head, letting a few strands fall on my face.

When I looked into the mirror, I hated what I saw, my blue eyes that used to sparkle was dull and lifeless, I tried to smile but it came out forced. I held back the tears that threatened to pour.

I was broken.