The White Wolf

Prologue

There's a fine line that determines "fine" and "not okay".

That line is something that everyone seems to know, until it gets too murky. Until you reach a point where everything you thought would always be there, no longer is. Until you hit that moment, that event, in which everything is stolen from you. What do you do when that comes? Do you lay down and die? Do you keep going, suffering through the heartache and pain to fulfill what little dreams you have left? Or do you lock away those emotions, and continue on the path set for you, sticking by the only person you have left. The only friend remaining because she can't die. Everything has a starting point. There is always a moment where everything clicks, where everything that has been lining up for centuries finally comes to fruition. Isn't there?

Prologue

Within a pack, there is a hierarchy. The Alpha, who leads the pack; the Beta, the second-in-command; the Gamma, the third-in-command, and the Pack Warrior are some of the big ones. Pack Warriors are the strongest wolf in their pack, excluding the Alpha. Often, they are as powerful as the Gamma, sometimes even matching the Beta. Two things that have never happened before are having the Pack Warrior be greater in power than the Alpha, or having them be female. Before me, that is. Especially considering I came into the full position at age 15, not too far after I graduated high school. I was determined to finish that out ASAP in order to claim my full position as Pack Warrior. In order to protect myself outside of my position, I claimed an alternate name when I was acting my position--Pack Warrior Nike, after the goddess of Victory. Given that I have not yet failed in a battle, I found it fairly fitting. My hair is usually in its natural white coloring when I bear that title, with a masquerade mask to further hide my identity. I know, it's a little over the top, but I like it.

Now, this may come as a surprise, but there are cases in which werewolves who are not heterosexual exist. I believe the humans refer to them as the "LGBT+ community". This includes people interested in their own gender, all genders, or even people that just aren't interested in others. All of them are looked down upon by the majority of wolfkind.

The Moon Goddess, the wonderful deity that she is, understands those LGBT wolves, and takes it into account when we get soulmates. Usually. That said, there haven't really been any cases of asexual, aromantic werewolves, until me. I would assume that meant I didn't have a mate, or that my mate would at least feel the same way about attraction as I do. Well. That is certainly not how it turned out, as shown by my current situation.

"How is it even possible for you to be my mate?"

Understand my confusion when, on my 16th birthday, I run through my usual routine, adding in little bits at my mother's insistence, such as getting my nails and hair done, to my chagrin. And then, lo and behold, I feel the mate bond at the meeting of the Pack Heads. To the Alpha's son and heir. Evidently, he chose not to bring it up during the meeting, and instead broach the topic outside, where we might be alone.

"Everyone has a mate, darling, and you just so happened to be lucky enough to get me. That's just how it goes, Babe."

"Okay, one: don't call me 'Babe', and two, that's not what I mean." He cocks his head to the side. "I mean, the Moon Goddess is usually, from what I've heard and seen, good about matching wolves with the kind of people they are into. I'm not into any kind of people, so I shouldn't logically have a mate."

Bryan Forrest, Alpha Heir to the Moonlight Wolf Pack, gives me a look. "It's probably just because you haven't met the right person yet, Babe." My eyes should be burning holes into his head. "Don't worry, we'll fix that. One time with me, and you'll be begging for more." It is all I can do to keep myself from attacking him. I'm not sure who is more eager to lash out; me, or Lyla, my wolf.

"Let me make myself clear. That is not how being mated would work. I will not have sex with you, I will not kiss you. I will do as I damn well please, because you should know by now I did not get to where I am now by being a pushover. So, you can fucking deal, because I will not do anything with you that I am not comfortable with. I will rip your head off without a second thought if you try me, Bryan."

Evidently, neither he nor his wolf were a fan of what I just told them. His eyes are ringed with silver, brown ones probably a match for my gold. "You think I give a shit who you are? I'm the next fucking Alpha. I can get any girl I damn well please, so I'm certainly not going to lose sleep over you, bitch. I don't need you regretting your decision and getting all jealous on me, so I'll have to make sure you don't stick around. I, Alpha Heir Bryan Forrest, reject you, Pack Warrior Sylvia Riley, as my mate and future Luna of this pack. Further, I reject you from this pack. Get your things and get the fuck off my territory. If you come back without a formal request, you will be killed without mercy."

That fucking son of a bitch! We don't need him. Let's go, Sylvia.

My eyes burn. "One more thing, Bryan? I accept your fucking rejection. Both of them." Turning toward the pack house, we shift, black jeans and tank top ripping to shreds. Along with my sports bra. Dammit.

My white wolf sprints to the pack house, bursting through the open door and up the stairs to my room. Shifting to skin, I close my door and grab my grey duffle bag, loading all my clothes from my dresser and closet into it, grabbing a new sports bra, underwear, black jean shorts, violet crop top, and black leather jacket. Throwing those on, I proceed to grab all of my toiletries, makeup, and nail polish from my bathroom, towels and washcloths following them into the bag. I grab my books and art materials to throw in there, leaving a quick glance at the picture of me and my family before grabbing that too.

Out of room, I grab a white messenger bag, one made to be worn as a wolf, and load in money, my phone, charger, laptop, and water bottle. Tossing the satchel onto the ground, I sit on my bed, dragging my pale fingers through my dyed-purple hair. Happy birthday to me. Found my mate, he rejected me, kicked me out of my pack, and told me that I'm dead if I ever come back. Woo-hoo. Best birthday ever.

Quickly finger combing my hair, as I packed my brush already, I throw it into a high ponytail, feeling the ends rise to the tops of my shoulder blades. A glance down shows my nails back to normal-- long, manicured violet on the right, and clean, short, ultramarine blue on the left.

So much for that. I send one last glance toward my room, my guitar, before I sprint down the main stairs of the pack house, pushing past my sister in the stairway. She let out an audible, "What..?" She followed me down into the foyer, catching me by the arm. "What's going on? Sylvia, where are you going." I turn to her, angry tears burning my eyes.

"I found my mate." I tell her bitterly. Her green eyes fill with confusion.

"Then what's wrong? What are you doing? I thought you weren't supposed to have one."

"Yeah, I thought so too. He's your wonderful soon-to-be Alpha. He found out that I wasn't into him, and decided that because I won't obey him and shit, I am not good enough to be his mate. Furthermore," the tears burn my eyes, making my vision blurry. "He decided that I don't deserve to be in this pack because I refuse to just be a breeding tool. So I'm gone! He rejected me as a mate and from this pack, so I'm a rogue now. Bye, Liza."

I turn from her, yanking my arm from her grasp. Pushing open the door, I turn to her one last time. "Tell mom I love her, and that I'm sorry I didn't tell her. Tell Jason that I will miss him and his best friend is a fucking jackass." I head toward the forest, as the first tear makes its slow descent down my face.

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1492 Words.