Enforcing Boundaries (Book 1)

Chapter 1

Thum. Thum. Thum. Thum.

The wings of the fan above me spun counter-clockwise and I laid on my back counting how many times they spun.

Thum. Thum. Thum.

"Margo," Caddy's voice called for me from the other room. I sat up, too quickly because my head spun with the shift, and called back to him loudly.

"Come here, I need your help." He called again.

I walked to the adjoining room to find him with his paintbrushes in his hand.

"What are you painting?" I wondered; the canvas was blank. He shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know yet, my uncle asked me to paint something to gift to the new enforcer when he visits in two days, but I don't know what to make." His uncle, whom the rest of us called "Alpha," was a strict man, but not one tenth as intimidating as the new enforcer.

The canvas was large, about seven feet wide and five feet tall, he would never be able to finish the work in two days. I told Caddy this, and he glowered at me.

"If I start now, I might be able to but I have absolutely no ideas on where to begin. It must be amazing, this is a peace offering. We all know very well my uncle isn't always the best with other leaders."

"What do you need my help with? You know I can't even draw a flower, I don't know what you want from me," I said carefully, not wanting to anger him in his anxious state.

"I know you aren't a painter, but you are the more creative one out of the two of us. Tell me what to paint, I can do that much, but my head is going in ten different directions," He pleaded. His hazel eyes looked sad and scared, instead of his usual cheeky manner.

"I can try," I sighed. His smile grew tenfold. "You'll have to give me a few moments to think of something. I need to plan." He nodded his head and left me alone for a few moments. I sank to the ground, resuming my position as I had before, and closed my eyes.

"Pick up the brush," I ordered. I could hear his hands grasp the tool. "So, from the left corner, start with a deep purple."

His fingers began to paint, not fully understanding where I was guiding him but trusting me enough not to question it. I didn't look at the canvas, just stayed on the ground with my eyes closed for the next several hours.

We took a small break to get some food from the kitchen down on the first level, he accompanied me so that the others wouldn't cause me trouble like they sometimes did.

I wasn't like them; I wasn't born here. When I was four years old my parents and I tried to outrun the reign of the Alpha at the time. He was cruel to humans, made them slaves, play toys for his warriors, and my parents didn't want that sort of life for me.

Ironically, the warriors caught us and my parents were tried for treason. My father was whipped 100 times, leaving his body in a pile of bones and severed flesh. The whips wouldn't have killed him if it had been another human holding the whip, but the strength of a werewolf holding the thick leather was destructive.

My mother was tied to the same post, over her husband's remains, and the warriors were given permission to use her as a sexual toy. They ripped her apart, quite literally. They were rough and at one point after one hour, her spine snapped in half and they put her out of her misery.

I stood next to the Alpha's mate, Luna Roux, who held me in place and forced me to watch.

My parents were the first humans caught escaping, and the Alpha made certain no others would dare defy him. The alpha was older when I was young, and when I turned twelve, he passed his title to his son, Alpha Dorian.