My Three Mates

I examined the large glass mirror that hung centimeters above the cool, wood platform. Framed with intricately woven designs and symbols. I watched the people that wandered behind me. The easy, natural carelessness, the light way they conversed. I watched them stand there for a few moments, then disappear to continue on with their lives. Looking in this mirror now, this inanimate object, I wonder how they see themselves. Most people would see some variation of themselves, whether more attractive than reality, or more ugly. For me, I suppose you would see a short girl, with billowing dark brown hair, bright aquamarine eyes, and tan skin. It may seem unusual but seemed to fit her heart-shaped face. What I see is something entirely different. I see the awful and horrible things I have done, the person I am, or the thing I am. I am unusual. I won’t deny it, what’s the point? I won’t go running into the woods screaming, “Why me? It’s just not fair!” And in all honesty it isn’t, but when is life ever fair? I am a werewolf first and foremost. Everyone tells me I am this, or I am that. I know who I am, and who I was raised from. I know my identity is, and although parts of me aren’t a werewolf, I will always identify myself as one. Werewolves are mythical to the outside world, I won’t say humans because we all know that’s not completely true. We shift whenever we wish, and we don’t turn in those hairy, half-lycanthrope things. “Adalyn. they are coming.” My body tenses as my best friend announced their arrival. I take a deep breath and take my eyes off the mirror. “Are you ready,” I say emotionlessly. It’s not a question. We have no choice but to be ready. They come in, making a scene. People scream and run in different directions. I stand still. They come in, the blood of their last victims smearing their face. They unnerve me, with their devilishly handsome appearances, their pale skin, dark hair, blood red lips, and their rainbows of different colored eyes. There is more this time, way more. Vampires. I never had a problem with vampires, despite the prejudice werewolves throw their way. However, I accidentally created a huge problem when I saved my best friend from being killed by one of their higher ranked coven members. Not a smart move, but once I become friends with someone, I stick by their side and I am loyal at all times. I will go to the end of the earth to save somebody I love. I killed a royal vampire to save my friend, an act punishable by death. I don’t regret it. Not at all. One of them rushes towards me, fangs out, nails lengthened. I easily avoid his attack. He may be older, but he’s not stronger. My hands quickly wrapped around his neck, and with a small flick of my wrist, and his neck snaps easily and the body slumps to the ground. He is not dead. Actually, I take that back. He is dead, but not for long. I feel the wind rushing behind me as another one approaches me from behind. I twist my body around and attack with sharp precision. My plan would’ve worked if I wasn’t surrounded by over thirty coven warriors. One slams me into the wall, my spine vibrating from the force of the impact. I let out a small whimper. I kick my legs wildly as I see my best friend being shoved into the ground whilst being injected with a serum. Out of my peripheral vision, I see another bloodsucker approach me with what I believe to be the same serum. Something sharp pokes into my skin. Most likely the needle. I feel the familiar sting of silver and wolfsbane. I take a deep breath. This serum is normally poisonous to werewolves, and they make the werewolf collapse to the ground in extreme pain. I’m not fully werewolf so the serum doesn’t fully affect me. They often forget that just like I do. I close my eyes, letting my body go limp, whilst his grip on my arms loosens. I take that as my chance, and break his grip, catching him by surprise. I am free for moments and I rip off the head of the warrior that injected me. You attempt to kill me, I kill you. I guess you can call me karma. I got slammed into the cold dirt once more, and my hands are pulled behind my back. They slam my head against the hard dirt ground. My vision blurs. They do it over and over again. I clench my teeth as my vision goes completely black, my body unmoving. This is all I remember before I am taken away. *************************************************************************************************** I don’t see a face as I am dragged like a prisoner towards the other royal vampires. My arms are shackled with chains heavier than I am. I am pushed forwards. Remember when I said I was part werewolf? I am also part vampire, and if I would’ve fed, I could’ve beaten every single one of those vamps and not be in this situation. I don’t like feeding, so I have a really uneven feeding pattern. Drinking blood makes all of the difference. I sigh. They can try to kill me and probably will succeed. I don’t look at them as I am showed in front of them. The room is large, surrounded by ancient writings and drawings. They rest on thrones that raise them above me. I guess that’s the point. Ten thrones, one is empty. “Face us,” a woman hisses, I look up at her, straight into her hardened blue eyes. She is dressed in an elegant red dress that looks to be from the 1800s and hides her legs. She stares at me as if she wishes to burn me alive with her eyes. I don’t show any weakness as I stand. A smell drifts through the air, it is strong yet intoxicating. I don’t search for the owner of the scent, I just stand there. A man speaks, his voice deep and smoky. “Why are we here, dear sister?” I feel drawn towards the voice, the voice that reeks of power. “She has killed one of our own,” the woman with a fire burning in her eyes says, her voice smooth yet deadly. “Since when are we united, dear sister?” Another female jumps in, her voice sinister and bored. I look up, my eyes scanning all of them. They are all beautiful, but cool. My eyes find those of one of the other leaders, he has deep brown eyes with a reddish tint to them, dark, tousled hair, and pale skin. He is muscular and probably towers over me. Once our eyes meet, the word ‘Mate’ dances throughout my head. His face is unemotional, as he speaks again, his eyes focused on me. “She will not be killed.” Some leaders show no emotion whilst others sport looks of rage. The woman with burning, blue eyes speaks again, “She must be punished,” “You will not punish my mate,” he answers shortly. She glares at me, the fire in her gaze burning hotter with every second she looks at me. “Everyone gets a punishment for killing a royal, mate or not, she does not leave without a punishment.” He doesn’t respond; I don’t expect him to. All of my wounds have already healed, one of the gifts of being supernatural. The problem is if they are to kill me or hurt me, my own royal family will be displeased. I finally spoke, my voice calm. “I think you forget that to be mated to a royal, you must come from a royal family, I am no exception.” Realization hits them all, and they start bombarding me with questions like, “Which family?” “Who are you?” “Why did you kill one of our own?” I sigh. “I will not answer which family I came from, because it is none of your business. However, I killed him because he was attacking someone from my family. As you know, royal families who attack or take from one and another, have the right to reciprocate in whatever means they feel appropriate.” Her burning eyes harden as they stare down at me, “The fates are with you today.”