Rogue Princess

L

en able to look myself in the eyes. These are the same eyes that belong to one of my fathers. A constant reminder that I am not the daughter they planned for me to be. My birth was foreseen, my powers were foreseen, and yet here I stand an ordinary werewolf. The color of my wolf's fur should have

than I actually am. Tight leather pants that cling to my curves. I've paired the outfit with black pumps to make me appear taller than I really am. Several strands of my hair are dyed dark purple, they are hard to see against my black hair except for when the light

ell through the cabin.

as I open the door. Rolling my eyes, I do a little spin, holding my arms out to my sides. "Hhmph,"

teenager. "Are we going to have

es walking in and out of

I tell him gently. "But I cannot rely on you and Grandma forever. I have to learn to make

on as your shift i

l at his retreating back, "yo

ver," he yells at my back,

I call him Walter. As much as he loves Grace he was not pleased when a werewolf showed up on his doorstep one winter night. Grace assured him that I wouldn't be any trouble, but that didn't lesson his unease. He wouldn't let me shift near the horses and he only called me 'that

e dispensary I see that Alec is working and I cannot help the smirk that crosses my lips. Alec is a werewolf that must be part of the pack that is within the Lycan City. He does not smell like a rouge. Alec is exactly my type. Tall, blonde, dark brown eyes that swirl to bl

f beautiful," Alec grins

them together in a seductive way. I do not miss the way Alec's eyes

is turning red, and I know t

stop by and see me later?" I chew on my bottom lip before looking up at

little too eagerly be

ary and to the bar next door. Heading to the back of the building I see

dy?" I laugh as I pul

oint in a small metal container she keeps in her pocket. "It'

know Sophie would never steal from me, but the owner of the bar, Rick, cannot be trusted. Opening her

Damn El," she whistles as she looks me up and down. "

," I say rolling my e

ence of a mark on her neck says it all. Most werewolves find their mates shortly after they turn eighteen. So those that make it into their twenties without a mate are doing one of two things. One, they are desperately waiting an

er her shoulders, covering the very thin straps of her tank top that is clinging to her overly large chest for life. Her dull green eyes are not a

asks while tying her tiny b

orking together. If we have a customer that is getting to handsy, rough, or just plain gross we put our pencil in our hair or behind our ear to let the other one know we need help controlling t

ding their alcohol. Sophie and I man the bar alone while a few other she-wolves take drinks to the customers sitting at the high-top tables. We work to

as I am about to twist the hair tie one last time the door of the bar swings open wildly. The scent of honeysuckle hits my nose, and my mouth im

ut in my mind. Prancing arou