The White Wolf Human Mate

*****CHAPTER 2

EIGHTEEN YEARS LATER

I have grown into a young woman over the years. My childhood roundness had faded, and my face now had sharp angles and defined lines. My almond-shaped eyes were deep brown pools that reflected a quiet strength belying my gentle nature. My full lips curled into a soft smile, and my high cheekbones added an ethereal quality to my face.

My body was lithe and graceful, like that of a dancer, so slender yet strong, like a swaying willow tree in the breeze. And my skin was smooth and flawless, like porcelain, and my long and silky hair was cascading down my back like an ebony river.

I really grew into one hell of a fine woman! I smiled as I stared at myself in front of the mirror. But despite my beauty, I carried a burden within me. I was haunted by the memory of that night in the forest, and I frequently found myself staring out into the night sky, wondering about the creature who had saved my life. I knew he was real and that he existed outside of human comprehension.

I had so many questions about the white werewolf who had saved my life so many years ago that I didn't know where to begin. I didn't know anyone who had ever encountered such a creature, and I didn't want to be dismissed as insane if I mentioned it.

I felt compelled to enter the library in my town one day as I walked past it. I had never been a big reader, but I had a feeling the answers I was looking for could be found in a book.

I walked down the library's aisles, scanning the titles for anything about werewolves. I chose a few books that piqued my interest and checked them out, eager to begin my research.

I spent weeks poring over the books, taking notes, and soaking up as much information as I could. I researched werewolf myths and legends, as well as their origins and behavior.

I was deep in my research when I heard a knock on my apartment door. I was surprised to see Calla, my aunt who had adopted me years ago, standing there, scowling, when I opened it.

"What exactly do you want?" I inquired warily.

"I need some money," she said angrily. "You owe me for taking care of you for all those years."

My heart dropped. I had always known that she had never truly cared about me, but I had hoped that their relationship could be civil at the very least.

"I don't have any money," I stated softly.

"Stop lying!" She yelled. "You've got a good job now; I know you can spare something."

I could feel my rage rising. I had worked hard to get to where I was today, and I owed nothing to this woman. She then continued to spout hurtful words, telling me that I should be grateful that someone took me in when I was a helpless child. My eyes welled up with tears, but I refused to let them fall.

I pulled out my wallet and handed her the small amount of cash I had. It wasn't much, but it was all I had saved up for months.

As she took the money, she sneered at me. "It's nothing. "You owe me so much more," she hissed as she stormed out of the apartment, turning on her heel.

I wiped my tears away and took a deep breath, attempting to calm myself. I heard a loud rustle of wind by the window as I turned around to return to my desk. It seemed as if something had just happened, but when I looked around, I saw nothing out of the ordinary.

I walked over to the window and peered outside, perplexed. It was late at night, and the street below was deserted. I dismissed it as a figment of my imagination and returned to my research.

But as I turned the pages of my book, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. I looked around the room, but it was completely silent.

I was about to dismiss it as me being paranoid when I heard a soft growl outside my window. It was low and threatening, and it sent shivers down my spine.

My heart raced as I backed away from the window, sensing a threat.

"Blair! "Come down here!"

I wiped my tears away and took a deep breath, attempting to calm myself. I took the stairs down to the first floor, where the woman who had raised me stood by the front door.

"What do you want right now?" I inquired, still angry and hurt.

"Someone left a package for you," she gruffly said as she held out a small cardboard box." I took the box from her.

I paused, perplexed as to who could have sent me a package. My curiosity won, I walked over to the table, as I stared at the box confused.

It was addressed to me, but no return address was provided. I ripped open the wrapping paper and gasped when I saw what was inside.

Inside of the box was an old book with a worn leather cover. I noticed the title on the front page: "White Fang: The Legend of the White-Haired Wolf." My heart beat faster.

This was exactly what I was looking for. But who had delivered it to me? And why?

I couldn't get rid of the feeling that there was more to this book. I turned to the first page and began reading, becoming engrossed in the story of a mysterious white-haired wolf.

"You're always lost in your own little world, Blair," my aunt grumbled. "There are no werewolves or white-haired wolves." "It's all made-up nonsense."

I bit my tongue because I didn't want to argue with her. I knew what I’d seen that night in the woods, and I wasn't going to let anyone convince me otherwise.

I went back to my room, uneasy. As I walked in, I noticed that my window had been tightly shut, despite the fact that I had left it open earlier. I approached it and noticed a small note on the windowsill.

"The time has come." Was boldly written on it.

My heart started racing as fear swept through my body. My mind was racing with ideas and questions. I began to pace back and forth in my room, whispering to myself. "Who could have written this?" How did they gain access to my room? What do they mean when they say, "The time has come?" "Are they looking at me right now?"

I couldn't get the feeling I was being watched out of my head, and the thought sent shivers down my spine. I was at a loss for words, but I knew I couldn't ignore the note. I had to figure out what it meant and who was responsible.