adopted princess werewolf book

NOVARIA'S POV

People's obsession with winter had always baffled me.

The soft snow, cozy sweaters, hot chocolate by the fireplace... everyone made it sound magical. But to me, winter was nothing more than a cruel season wrapped in pretty lies. No matter how many layers I wore, the cold always found its way into my bones, the streets became empty too early, the skies looked permanently angry, I don't get to hangout with friends, and I spent most days trapped indoors like a prisoner serving a sentence.

I hated it.

A sigh escaped my lips as I stared through my bedroom window at the dark clouds swallowing the night sky whole. The streetlights flickered weakly against the heavy fog outside, barely illuminating the snow-covered sidewalks.

It was already 10PM.

Too late for anyone reasonable to still be outside.

As if winter wasn't enough punishment for me, it was actually my worst day of the week.

Monday.

I rubbed my palms together and tucked them beneath my armpits, trying to preserve what little warmth remained in my body.

Maybe a cup of tea would help.

Dragging my feet across the wooden floor, I made my way downstairs toward the kitchen.

The scent of simmering stew filled the air, mixing with the warmth radiating from the stove. For a moment, I relaxed. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad after all.

I had just reached for the kettle when my mother walked in.

"Novaria, I need you to go buy a loaf of bread for dinner."

I slowly turned to look at her, disbelief written all over my face.

"Right now?" I scoffed. "It's freezing outside. And it's dark."

"And?" she replied flatly, not even sparing me a glance as she stirred the pot on the stove. "The store is only a few blocks away. Grab a coat and stop acting dramatic. Dinner is almost ready."

Before I could protest again, she walked out of the kitchen.

I stood there in stunned silence.

Honestly, if Morgana had been my age mate, or better yet, my younger sister, I would have dragged her by the hair and spanked every ounce of stubbornness out of her.

My mother and I were like oil and water. We argued constantly, sometimes over the smallest things imaginable. But somehow, she always found a way to make herself the victim. Admitting she was wrong was apparently beneath her dignity, and that alone irritated me beyond words.

Ever since Dad left, things between us had only gotten worse.

I trudged back upstairs with a scowl etched onto my face and pulled my thick coat from the wardrobe. My baby cat curled lazily on the bed, blinking sleepily at me.

"You're lucky you get to stay warm," I muttered, gently stroking its tiny head.

The cat purred softly while I sighed in defeat and headed downstairs.

The moment I opened the front door, an icy gust slammed into me like a physical force.

"God!"

I instantly shivered as freezing air crawled beneath my coat and wrapped around my skin. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my entire body.

I pulled the coat tighter around myself.

"It's just bread," I whispered under my breath. "I'll be back in five minutes. Then I'm burying myself under my blanket for the rest of the night."

The streets were eerily quiet. Snow crunched beneath my boots as I walked quickly down the sidewalk, my breath visible in the freezing air. Every passing second made me regret not arguing harder with my mother.

What kind of parent sends their daughter out alone at night in this weather?

"Morgana has officially lost her mind," I grumbled to myself.

Seeing that It was already late for regrets, I quickened my pace and forced myself not to think about it since I was already heading to the store.

The deeper I went into the street, the quieter everything became. Then I heard voices. Male voices. Loud and tough.

My heartbeat immediately slowed with unease.

At first, I tried ignoring them and kept walking, lowering my head as I tightened my grip on my coat. Maybe if I walked fast enough, they wouldn't notice me.