My Brother My Mate

Rowena

Alpha's daughter? I can vividly imagine them: powerful, beautiful, flawless. And as for me? I'm the outlier in the family, the odd one out.

My father was a serious and upstanding alpha who ran the New Moon Pack; a pack that was revered as one of the most powerful ever known. My mother was a gentle and graceful luna, a woman who was as elegant and beautiful as she was intelligent and wise.

And my brother, Eric Griffith?

Well, he was a natural leader—a strong lion of the Griffith family. Among our peers, he was always considered to be the most likely person to become the Warrior King.

Aside from their achievements, my entire family was utterly beautiful with dazzling platinum blonde hair, ocean blue eyes, tall and slender with the perfect muscles. Their wolves were unmatched beauties, fast and strong and perfect in every way.

But not me.

With a petite frame and dull brown hair, I stood from my family like a sore thumb. It wasn’t just my appearance, either; I was wolfless. No one in the Griffith clan had ever been wolfless.

However, I did the best I could at what I was good at—my intelligence—and thus, I became the nerd of the bunch. After Eric left the pack to travel, I survived the remainder of my long high school years as an ignored fringe with no friends, no respect, and certainly no romance.

But still, thanks to my grades, I got into one of the colleges outside the pack—the best, actually—and its warrior camp represented the highest caliber of werewolves in the entire South.

There was a time when I was so excited to receive my acceptance email, where I thought I would finally be recognized for what I was worth. I thought that it would be a new start.

Oh, how wrong I was.

As I gaze into the smudged bathroom mirror, I still wonder if coming here to college was a bad decision.

Wolfless, the word that defined my place among the freshmen. Someone maliciously embedded gum into my curly brown hair, and despite my persistent attempts to pry it out with my fingers, it stubbornly clung on.

No one here even associates me with alpha of the New Moon pack, and when my last name no longer protects me, the bullying becomes even worse. I became an invisible entity, a pitiable nerd adorned with glasses, immersed in my studies all day.

Finally, with a soft grunt, I managed to break the piece of gum free—along with a small chunk of hair. I winced as I flicked the sticky pink mess into the trash, then got to work washing my hands.

I quickly pulled my hair back once more into a ponytail, like I usually wore it, but then I paused; I put it into a tight bun instead. At least now someone might be less inclined to mess with it while I was walking through the halls.

Hopefully.

Once I was done, a quick glance at my phone revealed that class was in five minutes. Quickly gathering my things, I scurried out of the bathrooms and down the hall toward my second class of the day: medical training.

As a warrior combat management major, one would have thought that this class was my favorite—and it was, in theory.

As I walked into the classroom, the professor glared at me down his thin, birdlike nose and tapped his watch impatiently.

“You’re late, Rowena.”

I frowned and glanced up at the clock on the wall. “I have three minutes—” I began, but he cut me off with a wave of his hand.

“Take your seat. In the future, you should know well enough to come ten minutes early like the rest of your classmates.”

Even though I wanted to argue and tell him that the reason why I wasn’t ten minutes early was because I was picking chewing gum out of my hair, I said nothing and took my seat. The snickers of my classmates floated through the air, causing a hot flush to rise into my cheeks.

“Now that everyone is finally here,” the professor continued, “we’re going to be starting a new group project. Everyone, split off into groups of three.”

As the professor spoke, I felt my stomach sink; and as I watched all of the other students happily pair off into their groups of three, completely ignoring me, I felt it sink even more.

The professor, noticing how I was still sitting there, shot me another stern look. “Did you not hear me, Rowena?” he asked. “Pair off. Groups of three. We haven’t got all day.”

I swallowed and looked around, but it seemed as though all of the other students were already taken. I turned back toward the professor.

“There isn’t anyone left, sir.”

The professor let out an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. “Can anyone make room for an extra lone pity?” he bellowed.

The room fell into what felt like a silent mockery. It was typical; despite my top grades, no one respected me. I often wondered if they were jealous, and maybe they were, but it didn’t really matter. What actually mattered was that no one wanted the wolfless loser in their group.

The professor sighed again. “No one?”

Still, nothing but silence. And then I heard it.

“She’s not even fit to be a warrior’s ornament. Why should I want her in my group?”

“She's such a loser that even her own wolf doesn’t want her.”

The voice came as a whisper, and I whipped my head around to find the source, but was only met with snickers and narrowed eyes. No one moved to make room in their group, and it was clear that I wasn’t welcome here.

“May I work in the library, professor?” I asked, turning to face him and blinking away the tears that threatened to spill.

He sighed and nodded. This had become our routine; no one ever wanted to work with me, and so I would often spend my class time in the library, working by myself.

I liked it better there, anyway. The books were quiet, and they didn’t judge me. Standing, I ignored the disdainful whispers of my classmates and slipped out the door with another word, making my way toward the library.

But then, as I was rounding the corner toward the eastern wing, I stopped in my tracks.

“Oh, look who it is,” a sharp female voice called out. “I think I found something that belongs to you.”

I whirled around, and that was when I saw her.

Emma White. She was in the same major as me, but we couldn’t have been more different; she was a cheerleader, a tall and slender girl with long blonde hair and striking blue eyes. She was one of the most popular girls at this school, and she hated me.

And she was holding my notebook. No, not just my notebook; it was my journal, a place where I poured out my inner thoughts, my fears, my… desires. It wasn’t for anyone but me, and yet here Emma White was, reading all of it.

“You know,” Emma said, flipping through the pages, “this is rather interesting. How many love notes have you written in this book? A hundred? Two hundred?”

“Give it back,” I growled, marching toward her. But Emma twirled away.

“Tsk, tsk,” she purred. “So silly, Rowena. What makes you think that the strongest warrior in this school would ever fancy the likes of… you? A wolfless little nerd from the New Moon pack.”

“Emma, stop—”

“It’s really pathetic,” she continued. “To choose a major that you’re no good in just to be close to your dream lover. Well, keep dreaming.”

“Emma,” I hissed, “you know as well as I do that I score top marks. You’re barely even passing.”

I must have pissed her off then. In a fit of rage, Emma lurched forward, and her coffee cup… it spilled straight onto my shirt. Dark brown liquid spread across the clean, crisp whiteness, soaking straight through to my skin. My eyes widened, and I stared down at it, frozen in place.

“Oops,” Emma cooed. “My bad.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could, a strangely familiar voice caught my attention. “When did you start secretly crushing on me, Rowena?”

Emma and I both turned sharply to see the source of the voice. And there he stood, at the top of the staircase with the sun at his back: handsome, muscular, with blonde hair that fell in lazy curls down to his shoulders. His ocean-blue eyes smiled down at me. I knew those eyes.

My brother, Eric, had returned.