Mate Of The Demon Werewolf

Artemis' P.O.V.

Have you ever felt so invisible you were mistaken for a guy?

"Grilled chicken salad, and you for dessert perhaps, handsome?"

That flirty smile which sat prettily on beautiful pair of lips could get her any male she wanted.

Except that I wasn't a boy.

But I had stopped being offended at being mistaken for a male; thick bangs and washed grey hoodie didn't exactly scream that I was female.

It was in fact actually a surprise that I hadn't been seen as homeless charity yet; working different jobs to put myself through high school had made my skin pale, and my eyes sunken with dark circles.

But regardless of my problems, I forced a smile at the customer; my true emotions weren't going to get me any dime of tip.

And my empty account knew how much I needed them.

"Thanks but, I'm not on the menu."

She laughed in that high pitched squeaky voice, brushing her fingers over mine as I handed her order over to her.

Good thing she wasn't offended, so I put up with the physical contact although it's one of the things I feared.

I didn't flinch when she ran her fingers over my hand, her white teeth flashing brightly.

In return, she slipped twenty bucks into my rough palms along with a piece of paper on which was scribbled some numbers with terrible penmanship.

"Call me when you're on the menu, I'm always ready to order."

Then she was gone with her unique scent.

Wearing my cheap ugly clothes as I walked the streets of New York City after my night shift, I looked around in fear.

Fear of humans who walked with a pair of legs, and animals with four limbs.

And the greatest of all, humans who could shift into animals.

Werewolves.

The night air slammed hard into my face as I walked past trees, counting down as my old sneakers carried me into the old apartment building.

I ascended the long stairs, consoled by the mental image of my narrow bed where I could finally sleep and forget about my trauma.

But that comfort escaped my mind completely as soon as I got to the middle of the stairs and halted abruptly, my eyes shutting for the briefest duration of time.

They had visited; the cold-hearted creatures who had engraved the memory of fear into my heart,

And nightmares which had haunted me since that night they had torn my mother apart and left claws on her body.

Werewolves.

Their scent was potent, reminding me of the haunting image of my mother protecting me against a dozen beastly animals who had wanted to take me.

Her thick blood had drawn a map on my dress, her teary eyes filled with apologies for not protecting me enough even as her softly whispered words had been clear.

Run, survive. One day you will receive a pendant. When that happens, run, Artemis.

A gasp left my lips as those memories crawled into my head, inciting a building headache which usually accompanied the mental pain.

The ones who had murdered my mother had been here, and for some reason although my heartbeat and sharp sense organs had perked up, my feet resumed moving towards the stairs, my body removed from my brain.

The cheap lock was undone, the door and windows thrown open as I stepped in front of the studio apartment where I had slept for two years.

A burning smell of fear hit my nostrils as I took another step into my small home, a large lump of nervousness going down my throat.

For a moment, I savoured the lingering scent of beasts and fresh meat, my heartbeat so fast my ears picked it up.

My sharp blue eyes drove me to the old wooden desk.

Tonight, as the open window brought with it the aroma of the woods and trees, my carefully arranged books weren't the only things on the table.

In the middle sat an expensively packaged small box, so tiny it could fit into my palm.

It could have easily been mistaken for a simple box of Tiffany's dropped by some mysterious Prince charming who had somehow fallen in love with me.