Too Beautiful for the Alpha

When I was younger, I convinced myself that I would never have a Mate. Maybe it was for dumb reasons like, my face is full of pimples, or my legs are too fat, or my hair is dry and not as soft and shiny as hers. In my young mind, I believed no guy would want me because at the time I didn't possess such traits. It is a stupid thing to believe—that I am too ugly for a Mate—but the thought grasped onto me for years. The thought brought me to tears while I sat in my bathtub, only in the tub so no one could hear me. All in all, I was depressed.

Me, a sixteen-year-old werewolf at the time, was depressed because of my physical appearance. I mean, werewolves are supposed to be beautiful right? Flawless skin, vibrant hair, lushes lips, soothing voice, perfect body, a list of traits that surrounded me, yet traits I didn't have. All of the girls my age were beautiful, and I was the ugly duckling.

"Don't worry, you'll grow into your ears," my mother would tell me, pushing my dull, knotted brown hair over them.

"Don't worry, I'm sure your breasts will come, you're just a late bloomer," she'd say.

"Your feet aren't too small."

"Your face will clear up."

"Having brown eyes is lovely, people want brown eyes like yours, Rae."

I'd stare up at her and think about all the lies she's told me. Will I really grow into my ears? No. They'll always be a little too big, and they still are three years later.

My mother was a beautiful woman, and a beautiful wolf too. She looked more like one of the other girl's mothers than mine. She could have been an Alphas Mate, that's how perfect she was. Only the most beautiful girls are mated with an Alpha. Sadly—in my theory—I wouldn't get a Mate at all.

At first, the thought made me depressed, but as the years went by, it made me feel free. As the other girls prepared for gatherings—ones where packs would get together in search of their Mate—I would sit at home and argue with my mother.

"I don't have a mate, mom!"

She'd cross her arms. "That's ridiculous, Rae."

"It's not. I can feel it. I don't have a mate; it doesn't matter if I go. It'll be a waste of time."

"Stop that. Now get on the dress and let's get going. You're going to be late!"

That year I actually attended one. I wore a purple dress and sat in the corner all night while four girls my age found their mates. One was a Beta. A Beta! It was understandable; she was a pretty girl.

I sat in the corner, playing judge, judging everyone and their mates, their dancing, their dresses. Sure, I found it easier to accept that I'd never find a Mate, but part of me was still jealous.

This year, my fourth year of the gatherings, I plan on not attending again. I've only been once, when I was seventeen, so I'd like to spare myself from that pain. My mother doesn't seem to mind after that one time. Maybe she has begun to believe my theory too.

There is a knock on my bedroom door, and I call my mother in. She's carrying a folded piece of golden cloth, and I already know what it is. A dress. "We've been through this before," I mutter and look away from her, back down at my book as I lay sprawled out on my bed.

"Rae, I really think you should go this year. You didn't last year, so maybe—"

I shut my book and tiredly peer up. "Mom. I know you want me to go, but there's no point. I have no mate," I repeat what I have said the years before.

"Everyone has a mate."

"That's impossible. What if there's one more girl werewolf than there are guys? What if I'm that one?"

My mother drops the dress on my bed. "You're not that one. My daughter has a Mate. Now I've let you lazy around for the past three years, so it's time you start taking this seriously. You're nineteen, girls your age are excited by parties and the idea of mates. So put on the dress and be downstairs in twenty minutes before I call a guard and have them drag you out."

I sit up swiftly. "A guard can't do that!"

She begins to walk out the door. "They will now!" Then she shuts it behind her.

I groan and flop back down. I have the urge to yell back, I don't have a mate, but instead, I whine and dramatically put on the damn dress. It's gold and silky and girly, and something one of the pretty girls would wear. A girl like me should not wear this dress as the bust area clearly requires more bust. How embarrassing. Now everyone at the gathering will know that Rae East has small breasts, not that they couldn't have figured it out.

When I saunter downstairs, my mother hurries me out the door after handing me a pair of her shorter high heels. I take them with a look of disgust.