I sighed, rolled over, and looked at my phone that was lying on the bed beside me. 7.32 am.
Doesn’t that boy sleep?
I rolled back over and covered my eyes with my arm and groaned loudly.
Another day a lie-in is out of the question.
Down the hall, you can hear an enthusiastic 5-year-old making plane noises from his bedroom. I sigh again as the sounds show no sign of stopping, and reluctantly, I swing my legs out of bed.
I catch sight of myself in the mirror, which is hanging on the wall. Chocolate brown eyes stare sleepily back at me. My long brown hair tumbles in loose waves over my body. I’m not fat nor skinny, but I’m not particularly muscular either.
That’s due to a lack of physical training.
The gym holds no interest to me, but I know soon that I’ll have to start my training. A weak wolf is no good for any Pack. You see, we are not ordinary people. We are werewolves. Not the type that shifts at a full moon and kills every human on sight, but the kind that can change whenever we like at choice and have decided to live peacefully alongside humans. We are strong, fast, and powerful and only shift in cases of emergency and danger or to protect the Pack from enemies. Our wolf forms look like ordinary wolves, only just slightly larger. Not like the ugly, dangerous, vicious beasts depicted in storybooks.
I have curves all in the right places and a flat tummy which has a belly piercing that glints in the sunlight. I look back at my face and see long black eyelashes that frame my eyes, a cute little button nose and plump, soft lips harbouring a lip ring in the corner.
Mum and Dad almost killed me when they saw that I had it done. I giggled at the memory. Mum and Dad's face was a picture.
My skin is soft and blemish-free and has a slight tan to it, thanks to the endless number of hours I spend sunning myself in the garden. I turn to my wardrobe and throw on a tank top and some pyjama trousers and make my way downstairs to see what is for breakfast.
I can still hear Lucas in his bedroom, but he is making train noises now. He loves anything with an engine. I wonder how he will feel when he eventually finds out the truth about who and what he is. We haven’t told him yet as Mum doesn’t want to tell him that he is a werewolf until the time is ready for his first shift. That typically happens when your about ten. I was nine when I had my first shift. The pain of breaking bones as our werewolf form grew was excruciating, I thought I was going to die, but I’m used to it now and hardly feel the pain.
My wolf form is white with golden brown and grey streaks throughout the fur. She is a beautifully marked wolf, and I have dark brown eyes and black ear tips like my Dad. I like being in my wolf form as I am fast, and I feel free running through the woods at night, the night air blowing through my fur and feeling the earth between my claws. I almost feel invincible.
I finally get downstairs, and I noticed that the sun was already high in the sky, and the warmth radiates into the kitchen.
I love the long hot summers.
I smelt the mouth-watering smell of toast coming from the toaster and music playing from in the front room. I suddenly hear a voice on the phone, and I pause, trying to catch a glimpse of the conversation.
“Yes, I know. We haven’t mentioned it yet, but we will let Leah know today. Of course, of course. Hopefully, we can persuade her. No, I don’t think she will be thrilled with it. You know how she feels about it. Yes, of course. Okay, see you soon. Good-bye.”
I frown at myself. Who is Dad talking to? It sounds like a Pack member but mention what? Happy about what?
A noise behind me makes me jump from my thoughts, and I look up to see Dad walking into the kitchen.
“Morning Dad. Who was that on the phone? It sounded important,” I quizzed, placing my hands on my hips, and staring at him intently.
“Oh, hello, love. You’re up early. Let me guess, Lucas woke you up too? Oh, and nothing important. Just some Pack business that needs attending to,” Dad chuckled, but not quite looking at me in the eye.
“Oh yeah?” I looked at him, not entirely believing him and crossed my arms, but I don’t question it. “Yeah,” I grumbled. “Does that kid not get what the idea of a lie-in means.”
We both chuckled at my comment. Lucas is my five-year-old brother. He can be cute and funny, and I love him to the moon and back, but why does he insist on waking up at the crack of dawn. Every. Bloody. Morning.
I looked over at my Dad buttering his toast. He is my hero and my best friend. He is broad-shouldered with a muscular build, and he has stubble on his face along with brown eyes and brown hair that is starting to recede with age.
But what is he hiding from me?
Usually, Dad wears suits and a tie, but today he is in a pair of jeans and an old shirt. It’s strange to see him looking so casual.
“Are you going to the Pack today then Dad?” I asked, grabbing the slice of toast that was offered from Dad.
My Dad’s wolf is a big br...