Her Forbidden Mate

Outburst

After almost two hours of walking, Camelia finally reached Blood Moon Pack, its brooding gates looming before her. Three patrols stood watch, their eyes fixed on her. The pack was on high alert due to recent rogue attacks, and the air was thick with tension.

The patrols had caught her scent from half a mile away, knowing she wasn’t a threat. Still, their gazes held hostility, though none made a move to attack. Camelia ignored the growls from the wolves lurking in the bushes and passed through the gates, her feet dragging slightly on the ground.

Her house came into view, its light still on, meaning her mother was awake. Camelia’s heart quickened as she picked up her pace. When she reached the patio, she grasped the doorknob, opened the door, and stepped inside, wanting nothing more than to hug her mother.

But she was met by her mother’s angry face the moment she entered.

"And where are you coming from, young lady?" her mother stared her up and down, arms crossed over her chest.

Her expression instantly softened when she spotted the wound on her daughter’s knee.

"What happened to you, Camelia?!" she asked, her voice laced with worry and concern as she examined her daughter’s leg.

She immediately moved to support her, leading her to a nearby sofa to sit, also seating herself beside her.

"Was it those girls? Did they do this to you?" her mother asked again, her worry now turning to anger.

"No, it wasn’t them. I was attacked by hunters," Camelia explained, holding her mother’s arm.

"Hunters!" her mother exclaimed, eyes widening in horror, lips trembling.

"Yes, but I’m fine, Mom," Camelia said, trying to soothe her.

"Oh, my baby," her mother’s voice broke as she pulled Camelia into a tight hug, rubbing her back. "Why didn’t you listen to me? You could have really gotten hurt—or worse." She pulled away, grasping Camelia’s shoulders tightly.

"Promise me you’ll never leave the pack again! Promise me," she demanded, her fingers digging into Camelia’s skin through the fabric of her clothing.

Camelia winced in pain, nodding to make her mother stop. She finally let go, stood up to close the door, and returned with the first-aid kit to treat Camelia’s wound.

Her mother kept biting her lips in a strange manner and mumbling incoherently as she cleaned the wound, sometimes looking up at Camelia to glare, then immediately flashing a smile.

Her behavior was strange and erratic, but Camelia wasn’t concerned—she had grown used to her mother’s quirks. She remembered that when she was little, she had heard people gossiping about her mother having gone mad after her father found her and brought her back to the pack.

Yes, this woman may not be her birth mother, but she loved her—even if in her own unusual way.

After dressing her wound, her mother made sure Camelia ate before she went up to her room to freshen up.

She took a shower and got in bed, mind drifting to the man who had rescued her. She had intentionally skipped mentioning him to her mother. She rolled to her side, cozying up in bed.

"What were you doing there?" she soliloquized in the dark.

For some reason, she found herself smiling at the memory of his brooding face. But her smile quickly died when she remembered that the next day was sparring day—one of her worst days, where she would have to face the Alpha’s daughter.

She exhaled and closed her eyes, letting sleep slowly take her, as her savior’s face appeared in her mind, leading her into pleasant dreams.

*****

With a resounding plunk, Camelia was violently hurled to the ground for the tenth time by her sparring partner. She groaned, clutching her elbow as she lay panting, sweat trickling down her forehead, mingling with the dust coating her skin. She lingered on the ground for a few moments, gazing at the cerulean sky as the disturbed dust settled around her like delicate feathers.

Fortunately, her nose wasn’t overly sensitive, or she would have been overwhelmed by a sneezing fit. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek bun, and she wore a black tank with matching sweatpants.

The snickers and laughter of the others were audible, but Camelia was too apathetic to care. She slowly sat up.

This was the routine every sparring day. She got pummeled without retaliating, all for the Alpha’s daughter’s twisted amusement. She shouldn’t even be participating, given her restricted status in most pack activities.

"Doesn’t she look pitiful, groveling on the ground like a rat?" Sophie chuckled, kicking more dust on Camelia with her designer boots, while the other girls merely watched, joining in her laughter.

Camelia stared at them with a bored expression. Their insults no longer bothered her. After years of bullying, she had grown used to their shenanigans and profane words.

She rose to her feet, glancing at the girls who had abandoned her yesterday, then looked at Sophie.

"Are we done here? As you can see, I’m injured and need a timeout," Camelia said, tugging at her pants.

Sophie scoffed, clicking her tongue in disdain. "The nerve of this little runt."

One of the girls stepped forward.

"Why don’t I teach her a lesson for you?" she suggested, her gaze raking over Camelia. "She seems to have forgotten her place. Speaking like this to the future Luna—I’m going to send you back home to crazy Mrs. Bishop with a face even more messed up than her reputation."

Camelia glanced at the girl, her eyes narrowing. She had been among the three girls who left her yesterday. Her gaze drifted to the ground, where a tree’s shadow stretched like a dark tentacle.

From the position of the sun, it was already past noon, and the outdoor training grounds were bathed in warm, orangey light.

Her gaze snapped back up as the girl approached her.

'What was her name? Stacey or… Sleezy?' Camelia thought, rubbing her neck.

Just before she could finish her thought, the girl charged at her, throwing a punch. Camelia dodged the hit, swatted the girl’s hand aside, and delivered a strong blow to her side.

The sound of bones cracking echoed as the girl screamed and stumbled to the ground, sitting on her legs and clutching her ribs. Everyone gasped, too stunned to speak.

"Well, that happened," Camelia said nonchalantly, shrugging as she walked closer to the girl.

The girl looked up at her, face red with anger and pain.

"You crazy b*tc—"

Camelia kicked her in the face, cutting her off before she could finish.

Before the girl could gather her thoughts, Camelia sat on her stomach and began punching her without stopping. Hit after hit rang out with the sound of breaking bones, until the girl’s face was a bloody mess.

"S–stop… Y–you’re crazy," the girl choked, blood spurting from her mouth.

"Did you say something?" Camelia pushed her ear forward dramatically. "I’m sorry, but I couldn’t hear you choking on your own blood," she chuckled.

She finally stopped, taking a break to glance at the onlookers, who didn’t dare intervene, including Sophie. She was certain they had gone to fetch the stronger male wolves.

Camelia stared at her bloody knuckles, watching the mixture of her blood and the girl’s drip down. She couldn’t quite feel her knuckles, but she knew the damage was bad.

She frowned as a sickening, bone-chilling aura washed over her, invading her body. The air suddenly turned cold. She looked around, wondering where the aura was coming from.