Chapter One

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Second story in the Chosen Mate Series - You don't have to have read Blood Alpha, but the main characters will come into play later in the story but I will explain everything you need to know if you don't want to read it.

Also, this is set 8 months after the end of Blood Alpha.

Chapter One

I knew that when my mother saw me, that she would be angry. But I didn't realise just how angry she would be. She had always been overbearing, and controlling, so I had expected to get a reaction. But not quite to the extreme that I did.

The night before my father was having a formal lunch, I stumbled through the door; extremely drunk and with newly dyed blue hair. I pushed the front door open, with more force than was needed, and propelled myself into the house.

I stumbled forward, but kept hold of the door handle. I paused, got my balance again, before softly closed the door. Even with the alcohol running through my bloodstream; I was still light on my feet. My Wolf abilities were still part of who I was.

However, no matter how light on my feet I was – nothing, absolutely nothing, could get past my Rottweiler of a mother. I managed to quietly get it through the lounge, and towards the stairs, and for a moment – for that one fleeting moment of brilliance – I thought I had made it. No one who know.

It was naïve of me to think that would happen, of course it wouldn't. The light flicked on, and it stunned me for a moment. I tripped on the stair, but managed to steady myself. My eyes adjusted to the bright light; as I half crouched, half sat on the stairs.

"Margret" my mother's booming voice sounded. I cussed under my breath, before shakenly getting to my feet and stumbling down the two stairs I had managed. I visibly gulped when I saw my mother.

Her brown hair was tied back into a tight bun, and her face was harsh. My mother was only small, just over five foot, but what she lacked in height she made up for in sheer loudness. She had a real case of little woman syndrome – everything was said with a raised voice, and an open gesture. Anything to make her the centre of attention.

My father was the opposite of my mother; tall, quiet and stern. They were an odd combination, but it worked. They both truly did love each other, even after being together for so long, their differences made them combatable.

Knowing I was in trouble, I made the rash – and incredibly stupid – decision to pretend to act sober. The only problem is, when you're drunk it's very hard to remember what you act like when you're sober. But I took a stab in the dark.

I leant against the stair case, and nodded at them. "What's up?" I asked, trying to sound cool.

"What's up?" my mother shrieked, mirroring my words with fury. "Why don't you tell me Margret? You're out all night, doing god knows what with god knows who, while underage drinking. And I'm not even going to start on that god awful hair".

I frowned, before running my hands through my hair. "Well, I like it".

"I feel like all you do is try and make my life hard, Margret" she shook her head. "Your father and I do all we can to--"

I zoned out, thinking that if I were too throw up where would be the best place to aim. It thought through my choices, but I finally decided that the ugly vase on the mantel piece was no longer needed. It didn't go with the décor anyway, so if I were going to the throw up – the vase was going to get it.

"Margret, are you even listening?" my father growled, realising that my mind had been elsewhere for the entirety of my mother's rant.

"Yes. I'm a bitter disappointment, and neither of you know fashionable hair when you see it" I replied, "now, if you don't mind, it's three in the morning and I feel rather sick. So, I'm off to bed. I'll see you tomorrow". I gave them a small salute, before stumbling up the stairs.

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