Werewolf

I shake the memory away. Getting lost in my thoughts has never been a good thing. Since I remember myself, my thoughts have had nothing good to say or remind me of.
They become a dark trap, and eventually, suck me in deep. All those thoughts do is remind me just how much I don’t belong. Here, with my family and society in general. I just don’t fit in.
“Marabella, are you ok?” Jonah asks as he walks back in the room, already dressed and ready to go. Now, he is wearing black slacks and a dress shirt.
The buttons of the shirt are still undone as he pushes his belt through the loops of his pants. This time, I fight the urge to look at him and avert my gaze to the floor. I can’t allow my eyes to roam over his body all over again. It will do nothing but make the situation uncomfortable again.
And I don't want to make Jonah feel so uncomfortable that he stops talking to me. He is the only perso

I look at him over my shoulder and his eyes flicker again, his gaze on my neck, and I feel the blood rush to my face, my stomach a mess of butterflies.
“Jonah?” I whisper, and his gaze moves to mine.
“Huh?” He scrubs a hand down his face. “Oh, right,” he says, reaching his hand toward my hair. I pull away from him, wondering what he is doing. “Stay still, eyes ahead,” he mutters.
Turning back, I stare at the wall, obeying his command. What is he thinking?
A shiver runs up my spine as his fingers graze the back of my neck and he clears his throat, tugging my hair tie from my hair. My hair falls down my back to just below my bottom in long waves.
“Jonah, I can’t leave it down. It will drive me insane,” I protest, turning to look at him. He steps around me, moving to the dresser and grabbing my brush and coming over to me.
His hand moves to my hip, as he leads me further into the open plan 

Marabella
Anxiety gnaws at me as I wait for Jonah to hop out of the shower.
We are staying at the penthouse above the casino that Jonah uses when he stays in the city. Each moment closer to leaving is making me feel nauseous.
I dread the thought of leaving the comfort and safety of the apartment. And even more, I dread the moment I will have to face Kyan again. It has been years since I last saw him. Maybe Jonah is right and it is all in my head. At least I hope it is.
When the door opens, steam billows out the door, making me look toward the bathroom door as Jonah steps out, and my heart skips a beat.
My eyes scan him and linger on the towel that is hanging low on his hips. His body is hard, lean, and muscular. It seems like there isn’t an ounce of fat on him. And on top of everything, Jonah is tall too.
Jonah closes the door to the bathroom quickly and turns towards me. His dark blonde tousled hair is wet and droplets spill onto his hard chest, running down his pecs. My eyes shamelessly follow the droplets as they trail down the hard ridges of his abs.
He has both his nipples pierced, something that I hadn’t noticed before, but then again, this is the first time I have seen him in this state. I have never seen Jonah this bare, or ever had time to really look at his sun kissed skin on display so openly. I can't stop my eyes from trailing all over his god-like body.
My eyes follow down to the V-line that escapes below the towel. Jonah and Uncle Andrei, I know, train rigorously because Jonah isn’t Alpha born. He will have to fight his own father for the title, or his father will hand it down to Rose, his sister, when she comes of age.
Yet, despite having always known about his training, I never truly appreciated how hard he was working to become an Alpha. The hardened muscles of his body are but a reminder of everything Jonah is doing to take over the pack. Alpha - a title I know he will be able to achieve, and truly deserves.
Uncle Andrei had been training Jonah since he was eight, preparing him for the Alpha title fight. That is yet another reason to admire Jonah and his determination to reach the goal his father set for him at a very young age.
Jonah looks up and meets my gaze. It’s all but a second, a brief moment, and his cerulean blue eyes dart away quickly before he clears his throat awkwardly.
I drop my gaze. Heat creeps up the back of my neck. It stains my cheeks in an intense, bright red blush. Jonah caught me staring! He freaking caught me red-handed.
“Shower is free,” Jonah says, just as awkwardly.
I glance up just to catch him scratching the back of his neck. Shows how uncomfortable I make him. Shit! The thought alone makes my mouth go dry as a desert, but I quickly nod my head and stand up.
As I bend down to grab my bag, more than ready to get away from the awkward situation, I’m about to open the zipper of the bag, but Jonah’s voice stops me. “I only packed your pajamas and a change of clothes for tomorrow. Did you not see the dress in the spare room?” he asks with a raised brow.
My stomach twists in knots at the thought of having to wear a dress. I’m pretty sure it shows on my face how uneasy I feel at the mention of that piece of damned fabric, let alone the thought that I will have to wear it.
I haven’t worn one since I was a child. It is out of my comfort zone. I hate how much skin dresses show, so I usually opt for jeans and a hoodie.
“No, I haven’t been in the spare room yet,” I admit. To be honest, all I have done so far is chuck my bag on the couch and hope I will find a way out of having to attend.
I shake my head, and Jonah wanders off down the hall. He returns a moment later, a dark blue floor-length dress in his hands.
“Is it formal attire?” I ask. My voice sounds more like a shriek than the sound I know as my voice. And now, I feel even worse than I did the moment Jonah brought a dress up. Goddess help me.
“I mean, if you don't like it, I can always get Lucas to rush down and pick you another one?” Jonah asks. The funny thing is that he looks just as uncomfortable and out of the element as I feel.
Jonah also isn’t someone who enjoys formal functions and I know he only attends them when Kyan insists he has to.
I shake my head. There is no need for me to give him a harder time than he is already having with me. “No, I like it. I just thought I could wear my jeans. I didn't realize it was formal wear,” I tell him nervously.
“Kyan prefers a certain image. Believe me, I am not too happy about wearing a suit but…” Jonah stops himself as if he has already said too much and shrugs. He looks over his shoulder toward the spare bedroom. “There are heels in the room. I will hang this up for you,” he says and waves the dress in his hand.
A muffled groan escapes my lips. And now, I’m just going to make a complete ass of myself.
Everyone who knows me is aware of the fact that I struggle to walk in flats, let alone high heels. Why is my mother making him take me to this?
She knows I hate having to go to functions, especially formal ones, and anything connected to them. Even the very mention of an event raises goosebumps all over my skin.
I didn’t even attend my tenth grade formal. I opted out of it the moment I understood that was possible. I attended the ceremony, but I wore black slacks and a shirt, and soon after, I headed home, instead of joining the others for the formal. Mom knew there was no way I would have gone, so agreed to let me leave before the formal started if I at least attended the ceremony.
I didn’t want to go to begin with. I knew the formal was nothing but another chance for them to torment me.
Plus, it was also the day after mom disfigured Jasmine. They were best friends and still are, but mom said Jasmine stepped out of line when a petition went around for me to be pulled from contact sports. The petition said I was a risk to other students after I nearly killed my teacher. I didn’t mean for that to happen. But it wasn’t like anyone but my parents wanted to listen to me.
Eziah is always quick to act, though. However, with that, I also see the vast difference in how everyone views us. Although we are twins, we are so different. It is sometimes so painfully obvious that sometimes all I see is our differences and my flaws, while he seemingly has none.
He is hailed a hero, and I, well, I am hailed a parasite. The bad omen of my pack. Not that anyone is brave enough to say anything in front of my family.
Anyway, mom found out when the petition was handed to the school board. Let’s say it didn’t go down well. After some digging, mom found out Jasmine had been the one to originally mention it. Marley never forgave me, and neither did Alicia. Marley blamed me for her mother getting hurt, and said I told her of the petition.
Mom slapped Jasmine and humiliated her in front of the school assembly. Her claws slipped from her fingers and raked down Jasmine’s face. That’s how bad it was. And yet, I couldn’t find it in myself to blame mom for her reaction. I saw the pain she felt every time someone said hurtful things. The same as now.
Jasmine never healed, and I think my mother used her powers to ensure it. To make it a clear warning to those that spoke out about me. Mom made an example of Jasmine, unfortunately that didn’t work in my favor, I just never bothered to tell her that. It wasn’t worth the added stress on her or the extra drama I knew would follow by telling her.
Alicia’s mother, Rebecca, was forced to submit in front of everyone and apologize to me. I was humiliated. I understood why mom did it - a show of consequences, but it never helped my situation and only made me become even more isolated, and hated.
Alicia was my brother’s girlfriend at the time, and he took it further when he dumped her in front of everyone present, making her hate me tenfold. Eziah claimed in front of everyone that he wouldn't be with anyone that would shun his sister.
And while all those things never changed anything, especially how people viewed me, I couldn’t stop the questions that invaded my mind. My family has always watched out for me. They still do, but sometimes their actions only make things harder for me.

I shake the memory away. Getting lost in my thoughts has never been a good thing. Since I remember myself, my thoughts have had nothing good to say or remind me of.
They become a dark trap, and eventually, suck me in deep. All those thoughts do is remind me just how much I don’t belong. Here, with my family and society in general. I just don’t fit in.
“Marabella, are you ok?” Jonah asks as he walks back in the room, already dressed and ready to go. Now, he is wearing black slacks and a dress shirt.
The buttons of the shirt are still undone as he pushes his belt through the loops of his pants. This time, I fight the urge to look at him and avert my gaze to the floor. I can’t allow my eyes to roam over his body all over again. It will do nothing but make the situation uncomfortable again.
And I don't want to make Jonah feel so uncomfortable that he stops talking to me. He is the only person with whom I actually enjoy speaking.
“Yeah, sorry. I will be quick,” I mutter under my breath as I

chapter 6