Heart of a Beast

Chapter 13 | Part 2 - Crystal

Their friendship became strained then and with each passing year after when Crystal didn't shift and she started having seizures, the distance between then grew until her "best friend" publicly shunned her and wanted nothing to do with her.

The other packmates around their age followed suit and turned their backs on her.

Crystal couldn't blame them. Who would want to be associated with a werewolf who had no wolf?

"You're such an embarrassment. Just go."

Tears prickled her eyes as she clenched her fists at her side and tried to force them back, refusing to show weakness.

The male in their group huffed. "She's crying again."

"Goddess, you stink. Just go, Cris."

Crystal wanted to tell them off. She wanted to shout them down and tell them that they were wrong, wrong, wrong, but the lump in her throat blocked her voice and the frustration and hurt leaked down her cheeks.

Brushing past her "best friend" something sharp poked out from one of the boxes and sliced across her thigh.

Gasping, she looked down at the gaping hole in her pants, and though it didn't physically hurt, blood gushed down her leg.

She looked up to her packmates for help, but they turned up their noses and left, disappearing around the mounds of trash in this filthy hellhole.

She locked her jaw to stop it from trembling.

Fine. I don't need any of you.

Clutching her leg with one hand, she marched toward the exit with as much dignity as she could muster as bitter tears rolled down her cheeks.

Packmates were supposed to look out for each other and take care of each other.

And when she needed a little bit of help, a little bit of care, they turned their backs on her.

You'll never be worth anything.

She wiped her cheeks as she left the house. The woods around her appeared to have thinned and she could see the green field a few yards ahead and the community center and pond beyond.

The stairs leading up to the house had disappeared and when she limped a few steps forward and looked back, the mansion became a tiny log cabin—with the beast leaning up against the wall next to the door.

Tiberius' thick arms were crossed over his broad chest with his chin tucked in and his ears pulled back.

Her chest constricted as she froze in her tracks.

Had he heard their exchange? The way her packmates turned their backs on her and discarded her like a dirty towel?

He pushed away from the wall and stomped toward her on two feet as humiliation burned against her skin.

Looking at the ground, she watched his hind paws stop in front of her before falling to his knees and tipping her chin up with the ridge of his finger.

She looked up into his eyes and saw herself reflected in them. Eighteen, almost nineteen, dyed black hair, pale skin, thin and petite, with no glow or muscle mass that normal females her age had.

He broke eye contact and looked down at her injured leg. A low growl rumbled from within.

"Sit."

Her eyes widened at the grizzly voice and quickly complied.

She got down on the ground and he hovered over her leg and ripped the fabric of her jeans around her thigh and pulled the material away revealing her blood-drenched leg and the deep gash across her thigh.