Mate of the Werewolf: Into the Wolf's Den

Chapter 2:

Camellia was more than pissed off when she trailed her way back home, a grand house on the outskirts of town. This mansion once belonged to her parents, both of which are dead. Her mother killed her father in a jealous rage when she found out he was cheating on her with a pathetic little half-vampire, half-werecat. She then killed herself afterwards, in front of Camellia and her brother.

Not that it phased Camellia very much. Oh, how she loathed her parents; she was glad when they were gone and left the mansion to her. Her brother also owns it, much to her annoyance, but he wouldn’t know what to do without her.

“Oh, you’re back,” came the voice of her brother, Ethan. He was a lanky male, scrawny and weak; his dull blond hair from her mother’s side of the family was messy and lingering around his face, his brown eyes looking at her cautiously. He wasn’t at all that muscular and his skin was sorta pale, nothing like her beautiful bronze skin.

Camellia snarled and lashed out at him, striking him across the face with the back of her hand. She was in no mood to deal with her weak and pathetic little brother. Although, she did feel a sense of domineering pride when Ethan hit the floor with a painful crash, knocking over a kitchen chair as he did so. He then unleashed a howl of pain when Camellia decided to kick him in the ribs as he lay on the floor, relinquishing some of her frustrations of the pervious encounter.

Not that she would ever, ever admit that that mangy wolf got under her skin.

“Don’t talk to me, fool,” she literally spat at him. “Don’t pretend that you worry about me. I know you’re hoping this new Werewolf would control me, don’t you?”

“New werewolf?” he wheezed from the floor as he clutched his cheek.

“Yeah,” Camellia said airily as she threw herself down onto a kitchen chair, lifting her long legs up to rest on the kitchen table, uncaring if dirt and grot from the bottom of her biker boots littered the table. “He’s looking for his mate. Which happens to be me, apparently.”

“Are you sure?” Ethan whimpered at her.

Camellia slowly turned to face him, her brow furrowed in an exasperated look. Had he really just asked her that question? “Well, who else could he be after?” she asked her brother with a swift flick of her tongue. “You?”

She then laughed hysterically at the thought. Pathetic little Ethan, a mate to a werewolf? Not a chance in the lowest pits in hell! It was just too utterly ridiculous to even consider.

“Now that’s fucking hilarious!”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Ethan tried to back pedal. “I mean, what if he has been going from town to town looking for his mate?”

Camellia stopped laughing and rolled her eyes at her sibling’s stupidity. “I’m known as the Crimson Wolf, jackass. It’s obvious that he’s heard of me and has come to make me his mate. Now stop being a dickwad and get me my dinner! Sheesh, what else are you good for?”

Ethan simply nodded his head as he set about picking up the kitchen chair he knocked over, wincing as he placed his hand on his ribs. He then moved further into the kitchen to get Camellia her dinner like she had ordered.

“You’re not as legendary as you like to think,” Ethan muttered, but fortunately for him, Camellia didn’t seem to hear him. Her attention was adverted to the window overlooking the grand valleys that were glistering under the light of the full moon.

Then, a howl broke through the still of the night.

That stupid shadowy colour wolf was back and he had actually had the gall to encroach on her homely domain! How arrogant and conceited could he possibly be?

Camellia snarled, her hackles rising up as she dashed outside into the night, ready to show the newcomer in town how much of a threat she was.

... ... ... ... ... ...

Ethan watched as his sister ran out into the darkness, forsaking the open front door, instead using the thankfully open window as her leverage to leap off in an overly dramatic way. Her eyes set into a fearsome glare of hatred, her lips pulled back into a snarl.

She truly loved to make things overly theatrical.

He sighed as he set about cleaning up the mess she made by storming into their house, sweeping off the dirt on the table and placing it in the bin. He then winced when he leaned a little too far to the side, his ribs aching in protest and he drew in a sharp breath to help ease the pain away.

His sister had changed so much over the years. She was never this cruel or ruthless in their younger years, nor was she ever this violent toward him. Sure, she had been a bit of a brat growing up, always demanding things and throwing tantrums when she didn’t get them, but she was never this conceited and...bitchy.

Ethan really couldn’t point out the moment in time where she changed, but if he hazard a guess, it was a few weeks after their parents died. Their parents were both respected people in the community; father was a bank manager while their mother was a teacher at the local primary school. They had both died when he and Camellia were about to turn 15 years old, a whole three years ago now.

After that, Camellia turned rebel and did everything she could to get into trouble and cause trouble for those in the community. Some thought it to be nothing more than a cry for help, but she only grew more reckless.

Especially after realizing their Werewolf gifts that their father had placed upon them. She thought of herself as really unstoppable then.

But she was going to get herself killed one of these days, she wasn’t as highly sought after or as powerful as she liked to think of herself to be. And she most certainly wasn’t gaining the respect of anyone in their home town or of any wandering wolf in these parts. She was rude, brash and really quite irresponsible. She held no fear.

Why Ethan continued to stay here, endearing her abuse, he did not know. Maybe he felt it was his duty to try to keep her out of trouble. But that wasn’t possible; her self-centredness and rage fuelled her werewolf tendencies and she could be quite powerful in her abuse toward him. He was a werewolf too, but he would never, ever strike out at her.

Bitch or not, she was still his sister.

While Camellia tried to dominate and make enemies of the wandering wolves who happen across their town in secret, Ethan much preferred offering them a sense of sanctuary. Certainly, most of these wandering wolves were dangerous and could potentially be a threat to him, but he wanted to prove to them, to show them that violence wasn’t always the answer. And most of the time, the rogue wolves he had encountered had never experience kindness before, so simply followed, idly wondering why he was doing this and what he wanted in return.

He wanted nothing in return from them; the satisfaction of being of some use to someone was more than enough, really.

Wolves, after all, were also renowned for their intelligence, companionship and loyalty. They weren’t vicious, brainless beasts.

A chill suddenly raced up Ethan’s spine and a new scent touched his overly-sensitive nose. A scent he had never smelt before overwhelmed him, actually, and quite surprisingly, made him feel dizzy with a sense of something he had never felt before.

Whipping around, he found his gaze colliding with that of an unknown wolf’s as he stood, unmarred and alone, in his house.