Too Beautiful for the Alpha

When I was younger, I convinced myself that I would never have a Mate. Maybe it was for dumb reasons like, my face is full of pimples, or my legs are too fat, or my hair is dry and not as soft and shiny as hers. In my young mind, I believed no guy would want me because at the time I didn't possess such traits. It is a stupid thing to believe—that I am too ugly for a Mate—but the thought grasped onto me for years. The thought brought me to tears while I sat in my bathtub, only in the tub so no one could hear me. All in all, I was depressed.

Me, a sixteen-year-old werewolf at the time, was depressed because of my physical appearance. I mean, werewolves are supposed to be beautiful right? Flawless skin, vibrant hair, lushes lips, soothing voice, perfect body, a list of traits that surrounded me, yet traits I didn't have. All of the girls my age were beautiful, and I was the ugly duckling.

"Don't worry, you'll grow into your ears," my mother would tell me, pushing my dull, knotted brown hair over them.

"Don't worry, I'm sure your breasts will come, you're just a late bloomer," she'd say.

"Your feet aren't too small."

"Your face will clear up."

"Having brown eyes is lovely, people want brown eyes like yours, Rae."

I'd stare up at her and think about all the lies she's told me. Will I really grow into my ears? No. They'll always be a little too big, and they still are three years later.

My mother was a beautiful woman, and a beautiful wolf too. She looked more like one of the other girl's mothers than mine. She could have been an Alphas Mate, that's how perfect she was. Only the most beautiful girls are mated with an Alpha. Sadly—in my theory—I wouldn't get a Mate at all.

At first, the thought made me depressed, but as the years went by, it made me feel free. As the other girls prepared for gatherings—ones where packs would get together in search of their Mate—I would sit at home and argue with my mother.

"I don't have a mate, mom!"

She'd cross her arms. "That's ridiculous, Rae."

"It's not. I can feel it. I don't have a mate; it doesn't matter if I go. It'll be a waste of time."

"Stop that. Now get on the dress and let's get going. You're going to be late!"

I wore a purple dress and sat in the corner all night while four girls my age found their mates. One was

the corner, playing judge, judging everyone and their mates, their dancing, their dresses. Sure, I found it easier to accept

like to spare myself from that pain. My mother doesn't

She's carrying a folded piece of golden cloth, and I already know what it is. A dress. "We've been through this before," I

you should go this year. You didn't last

know you want me to go, but there's no point. I have no mate," I repeat what I

"Everyone has a mate."

What if there's one more girl werewolf than

not that one. My daughter has a Mate. Now I've let you lazy around for the past three years, so it's time you start taking this seriously. You're nineteen, girls your age are excited by parties and the idea of mates. So put on the dress and be downstairs in twenty minutes before I call a guard and have them drag you

sit up swiftly. "A guard can't do

the door. "They will now!"

have the urge to yell back, I don't have a mate, but instead, I whine and dramatically put on the damn dress. It's gold and silky and girly, and something one of the pretty girls would wear. A girl like me should not wear this dress as the bust

after handing me a pair of her shorter high heels.

place, so don't try and lie saying you got lost or couldn't find it," my mother

pass out and drool onto the pages. My normal Saturday nights in the pack. It's nothing exciting like sneaking off pack land or secretly meeting up with a guy who is not my mate, stuff

make me

is not my specialty, so when I hear

clenches at the sight of him. I have met the Alpha once before, and I was awkward as usual. He probably wouldn't remember me if he saw me. Alphas are busy I suppose, they meet a lot of people, and it must be impossible to remember such an insignificant

a better view of who he's with, and I notice one person to be the Luna, and I lean a little further, and my foot gets caught on a tree root,

Luna's eyes fall upon me, somewhat hidden behind

cheek and get up, dirt coating my palms and sprinkled on my dress. "Sorry," I say nervously. "I thought I saw something out further, but I tripped and. . .

for the mateless?"

the small crowd. My eyes go straight to my Alpha, apologetically of course, but the man beside

most prestigious werewolves display. I could explain every one of his magnificent features and write a book about it all, but something else has me entranced. The feeling in my stomach. Or is it my heart? Or is it my more delicate regions? Maybe it's everything. It's like his eyes are tearing me apart