As I settled into the front seat of the blue Ford Mustang, I let out a relieved sigh, feeling the stress of the past few hours melt away. The cool leather beneath me was a welcome respite from the stifling atmosphere of my father's estate. I was finally free, free to indulge in my own thoughts, my own desires. The open road stretched out before me, a promise of adventure and liberation.
But my freedom was short-lived, I knew. My father had arranged a party in my honor, a gathering of eligible bachelors from prominent European families. I was the prize, the trophy to be won. The thought made my skin crawl. I knew my father loved me, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was nothing more than a pawn in his game of power and politics.
My instincts were on high alert, and I couldn't shake the feeling that father was planning to marry me off to the highest bidder. The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I had heard whispers of the men he had invited, their reputations preceding them like a dark cloud. I was trapped, caught in a web of expectations and obligations.
I started the engine, feeling the rumble of the car beneath me. The music pulsed through the speakers, a reflection of my mood. I was restless, trapped, and desperate for escape. The party loomed ahead, a night of forced smiles and polite conversation. But for now, I had this moment, this fleeting sense of freedom. I took a deep breath, savoring the taste of rebellion.
As I cruised down the winding roads of Pennsylvania, the scenery unfolding like a canvas of emerald and gold, my mind began to wander. The rolling hills and tree-covered mountains stretched out before me, a breathtaking panorama that stirred something primal within. The fresh air, crisp and clean, filled my lungs, and my wolf stirred, its presence a gentle hum in the back of my mind. Suddenly, a low, mournful howl escaped my lips, echoing through the hills like a wild cry.
I am a werewolf, a member of the Wildfire pack in Scotland, where the misty mountains and lochs have been our home for generations. My family, the ruling Alpha and Luna, have always expected great things from me. As their only daughter, I've been groomed to follow in the footsteps of my mother, the pack's fierce and compassionate leader. But I've always felt suffocated by the weight of their expectations.
My parents, in their devotion to the pack, have always emphasized the importance of tradition and duty. They believe that a strong pack requires strong leaders, and that I, as their daughter, am destined for greatness. But their idea of greatness is narrow and confining. They want me to settle down with a formidable wolf, preferably one with Alpha blood, and start raising pups as soon as possible. The thought of it makes my skin crawl.
I've always felt like a wild bird in a gilded cage, longing to spread my wings and fly free. But every time I try to assert my independence, my parents remind me of my duty to the pack. They mean well, but their words feel like chains, binding me to a life I didn't choose.
As I drove, the scenery blurred together, and my thoughts turned to the life I'd left behind. The Wildfire pack, with its ancient traditions and strict hierarchy, felt stifling. I yearned for freedom, for adventure, for the chance to forge my own path. And now, as I sped through the hills of Pennsylvania, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to break free from the expectations of my pack and forge my own destiny.
My name is Sophie MacLeod, the only daughter of Angus and Fiona MacLeod, sister to Ewen, Finn, and Rory. Although my entire family was blessed with the fiery hue of red hair, I was by far the most striking and rare. My deep auburn locks, a true deep red that seemed to shimmer in the light, cascaded down my back like a rich, velvety waterfall. The color was so vibrant, it seemed almost otherworldly, and it fell in loose waves down my back, grazing the top of my bottom. My hair was my crowning glory, and I loved the way it framed my face and flowed behind me like a fiery mantle.
As I gazed into the rearview mirror, my eyes sparkled back at me - a vivid Caribbean blue that seemed to gleam with an intensity all its own. I was used to people doing a double take, their eyes widening in surprise as they took in my striking features. Some would even venture a comment, suggesting I must have colored my hair or worn colored contacts to achieve such a vibrant look. But the truth was, my fiery auburn locks and bright blue eyes were all natural. I chuckled to myself, recalling the countless times I'd had to assure people of that fact.
As I drove, memories began to filter through my mind like wisps of smoke. My thoughts drifted to the voice that had been guiding me - my wolf, a presence that had become an integral part of my being. She'd been insistent that I make this journey to West Virginia, though she'd offered no explanation as to why. I trusted her instincts, though, and had packed up my life to follow her lead.
I was searching for something - a place to call home, perhaps, or a sense of peace. A quiet mountain town in West Virginia seemed like the perfect refuge. Somewhere I could escape the hustle and bustle of everyday life and ponder my path forward. And, hopefully, a place where I wouldn't encounter any...otherworldly creatures. Werewolves, in particular, were not something I was eager to meet. My own inner wolf was enough for me to handle.
My wolf Ciara was a stunning creature, with a deep sorrel red coat that shone like polished copper in the sunlight. The black and sienna points on her back, ears, and face added a striking contrast to her overall appearance, giving her an air of elegance and sophistication. Her lower jaw and chest were a crisp white, which extended down to her two perfectly matched white socks on her front paws. It was as if she had been dipped in paint, with the white carefully applied to create a sense of symmetry and balance.
But Ciara's beauty went far beyond her physical appearance. She was a passionate and fiery wolf, with a spirit that burned bright and true. Her eyes sparkled with intelligence and curiosity, and her movements were fluid and graceful. She was a true companion, a wolf who stood by my side through thick and thin, and I felt fortunate to have her as a part of my life.
In fact, I often felt like Ciara was the second part of my soul. We were two wolves, bound together by a deep and abiding connection that went beyond words. We understood each other without needing to speak, our thoughts and feelings intertwined in a way that was both mysterious and wonderful. I knew her moods and her likes, and she knew mine. We were a team, a partnership that worked seamlessly together.
And yet, despite our deep connection, there were times when Ciara and I didn't see eye to eye. One of the things that drove us apart was her desire for a mate. Ciara longed to find a wolf to share her life with, to build a pack and start a family. I, on the other hand, was more ambivalent about the idea.
One day, Ciara approached me with an uncharacteristic determination in her eyes. "Let's go to America," she said, her voice low and husky. "I've heard the wilderness there is teeming with wolves. We'll find our mate, and our pack will grow."
"I've always been a bit of a rebel, even among our kind," I said, my voice low and even. "Girls were meant to find their mate, destined or chosen, settle down and frankly become a breeder. I was not that kind of girl and never would be. And I'll be damned if I take a chosen mate to abide by my pack. Frankly, I did not want a mate at all, I was perfectly ok with remaining alone."
Ciara's ears folded back, and her tail drooped slightly. She looked at me with a mixture of disappointment and frustration. "You know that's not true," she said, her voice soft but insistent. "We're meant to be pack animals. We're meant to have a mate, to have a family. It's natural."
I snorted, a dry, humorless sound. "Natural?" I repeated. "You call being tied down to some mate, having to answer to them, and breed on demand naturally? No, thank you. I'd rather be alone than be trapped in some predetermined role."
Ciara sighed, her tail wagging slightly as she tried to placate me. "It's not like that," she said. "Having a mate doesn't mean losing your freedom. It means gaining a partner, a friend, a companion. And what about our pack? Don't you want to build a life together, to have a family of our own?"
I shook my head, feeling a familiar sense of stubbornness rise up inside me. "No," I said flatly. "I don't want that. And even if I did, I'm not sure I'd want to take the risk of having a mate. You know what happens to wolves who mate for life. When one dies, the other often follows. No, thank you. I'll stick to being alone."
Ciara looked at me, her eyes filled with a deep sadness. She knew I was resolute in my decision, and she also knew that she couldn't change my mind. But she wouldn't give up, not yet. She'd keep trying, keep pushing, until I either relented or we drifted apart.
"I knew my father's anger would be a sight to behold," I thought to myself, a shiver running down my spine as I imagined the confrontation that was sure to come. My parents had been trying to manipulate me into marrying for years, using every trick in the book to get me to conform to their expectations. But I had always resisted, determined to forge my own path in life.
The party they had planned was the final straw. An elaborate affair, with all the eligible Alphas in Europe invited to come and bid on me like a prized possession. I knew my father's plan was to secure an alliance with one of the most powerful packs in the region, and I was the key to making that happen.
But I had other plans.
I had always felt like a pawn in my parents' game of power and politics. They had never asked me what I wanted, never considered my feelings or desires. They had simply assumed that I would do my duty, marry well, and produce strong offspring to carry on the family line.
Well, I had news for them. I was not going to be a dutiful daughter, not anymore. I was going to take control of my own life, make my own decisions, and forge my own path. And if that meant escaping from my father's wrath and starting over, then so be it.
Only a few miles more down the enchanting mountain road before I reached my destination. I had reserved a suite for the next two weeks at the Hampton Inn in Morgantown. I was looking forward to the tranquility, the solace to reevaluate what I wanted in life, and experience something new.
After a hot bath and a snap, I turned on my phone and a multitude of messages and voicemails flurried upon the screen.
[Sophie, your mother and I are completely disgusted with your actions. We need you to come home immediately and cease this foolishness.] 8:41 pm Dad.
[We are worried sick. Where have you run off too! Please respond so that we know you are safe.] 8:45pm Mom.
[Where the hell are you!] 6:45pm Mere,
As I scrolled through the messages, I could almost hear the anger and concern in my parents' voices. My father's words were laced with disdain, my mother's with worry, and my... well, Mere's message was just plain furious. I couldn't help but smile wryly to myself. They were all so predictable.
I took a deep breath and decided to respond, trying to appease them without giving away too much. I typed out a message to my parents, keeping it brief and vague.
"Hey, Mom and Dad. I'm safe and sound. I just needed some time to think and clear my head. I'll be in touch soon. Love you both."
I hesitated over Mere's message, wondering whether it was worth responding to at all. In the end, I decided to leave it alone. Some battles weren't worth fighting, and I didn't feel like getting into a confrontation with Mere right now.
As I put my phone on silent mode, I felt a sense of relief washing over me. I was finally alone, with no one to answer to but myself. I poured myself a glass of wine from the mini-bar and settled onto the couch, looking out the window at the tranquil mountain scenery.
The hot bath had been just what I needed, and now I was ready to unwind and enjoy some well-deserved relaxation. I closed my eyes, feeling the stress and tension melt away, and let the peacefulness of the surroundings envelop me.
As I sat there, I realized that this was exactly what I had been craving – freedom, solitude, and a chance to rediscover myself. I was determined to make the most of my time here, to explore the town, meet new people, and figure out what I truly wanted from life.
The next two weeks stretched out before me like a blank canvas, waiting to be filled with new experiences, new adventures, and new discoveries. I smiled to myself, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation.
I frowned as I carefully read over the response to my parents, my eyes scanning the words with a mix of frustration and determination. I refused to even acknowledge my brother's messages, dismissing them with a flick of my wrist. Just because they were apparently the perfect children, always so quick to obey and please, did not mean I needed to be scolded by my older siblings. I was tired of being lectured, tired of being treated like a child who couldn't make her own decisions.
With a sense of rebellion, I typed out a hasty message to Mere, my personal assistant and best friend
[I will call you later. Love Sophie.]
I sent it off without hesitation, knowing she would receive it and take action. She was probably pacing the castle, wringing her hands beside my mother, worrying about my response to my parents' demands. The thought brought a small smile to my face.
But my satisfaction was short-lived. As soon as I sent the messages, the phone began to ring, shrill and insistent. I watched the screen, my heart sinking as DAD flashed on the screen. Undoubtedly, he was furious, his anger and disappointment radiating through the phone like a palpable force. I hesitated, my finger hovering over the answer button. I knew I should let it go to voicemail, but something compelled me to answer.
With a sense of trepidation, I swiped the screen, and my father's voice boomed through the phone, making my ear ache. "Sophie, what is going on?" he thundered, his words laced with anger and concern. I winced, regretting my decision to answer already. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the conversation ahead, knowing it would be a long and difficult one.
"Sofia MacLeod, where in the hell have ye wandered off tae?" my father's voice thundered through the phone, the heavy Scottish accent thick with rage and concern. "I demand ye come hame immediately! Do ye have any idea what ye've put yer mother and I through? Any idea o' the embarrassment ye've caused us? The shame?! Tae have invited a' the eligible Alphas from across Europe and tae find the girl they were a' waiting tae see had disappeared without a trace! And no' tae mention the despair ye've put yer poor mother through! Ye selfish girl! Damn ye, Sophie!"
The words cut deep, and tears began welling up in my eyes as I listened to my father's tirade. I felt a lump form in my throat, and my voice trembled as I tried to speak. "I am sorry, Papa, but I am safe. I just need some time tae sort things oot in my heid." The words barely left my lips before my father launched into another angry rant.
He was furious, and I could feel his Alpha aura bludgeoning through the phone lines, making my skin crawl. "I wonder what besieges that heid o' yours! I demand yer return at once. The Alphas are still here and willing tae consider ye despite yer flagrant disrespect. I assured them yer beauty alone was worthy o' their time." The words stung, and I could feel my face flush with anger and humiliation.
How could he do this to me? Use me as a bargaining chip, as if I were nothing more than a prize to be won? The thought made my stomach turn, and I felt a surge of resentment towards my father. I was more than just a pretty face, more than just a potential mate for some Alpha's son. I was a person, with thoughts and feelings and desires. And I was tired of being treated like a pawn in his game of power and prestige.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, but my anger and frustration simmered just below the surface. "Papa, please...just listen tae me," I tried to reason with him, but he cut me off, his voice growing louder and more menacing. "Listen tae ye? Ye've had plenty o' chances tae speak, Sophie. Now it's time tae listen tae yer father. Ye'll do what's best for this family, even if it kills ye. And if ye don't, I'll make sure ye regret it." The threat hung in the air, and I felt a chill run down my spine.
"I be not an item for sale father! I am a living breathing being worthy of love and respect, not some pawn to sell to the highest bidder. Tell those Alphas be on their way as I shan't be coming home soon! Tell mother I love her." And with that I quickly hung up the phone before he could respond to me.
The phone call still lingered in the air, the words echoing in my mind like a defiant scream. I felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins, mixed with a hint of fear. My father's reaction was predictable, but it still stung. I could almost see his face, the flush rising to his cheeks, the anger burning in his eyes.
As I sat in silence, the darkness of the room seemed to close in around me. I felt suffocated, trapped by the weight of expectations and obligations. The phone's screen lighting up with "DAD" again was like a ticking time bomb, each ring a reminder of the confrontation I'd just escaped.
I pushed the ignore button with a sense of finality, shutting off the phone to silence its persistent ringing. The sudden stillness was a relief, but I knew it was temporary. My father wouldn't give up easily. He'd keep calling, keep pushing, until I relented.
But I wouldn't. Not now. Not after I'd finally found the courage to stand up for myself. I took a deep breath, feeling a sense of resolve settled within me. I'd face whatever came next, but I'd do it on my own terms.
"All mighty Saints, I need a drink." I stood up, the chair scraping against the floor as I pushed it back. The room seemed to spin around me, the weight of my father's words still heavy on my shoulders. I needed to escape, to lose myself in the music and the crowd. I grabbed my wallet and keys, shoving them into my pocket as I headed out the door.
The night air hit me like a slap in the face, cool and unforgiving. I breathed deeply, feeling the sting of the wind as I scanned the streets for a club. There, a few blocks down, a neon sign pulsed with an otherworldly energy. The Blackout, it read. Perfect.
I strode towards it, my feet carrying me on autopilot as my mind replayed the conversation with my father. The rejection, the dismissal, the assumption that I could be bartered away like a commodity. Anger simmered beneath my surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.
As I pushed open the door to the club, the music slammed into me, a cacophony of sound that was both overwhelming and exhilarating. I plunged into the darkness, letting the beat wash over me like a wave. I made my way to the bar, ordering a whiskey without hesitation.
The liquor burned its way down my throat, but I welcomed the fire. I needed something to take the edge off, to dull the ache that had been growing inside me for what felt like an eternity. I tossed back another shot, and another, feeling the numbness spread through my veins.
The music pulsed around me, a living, breathing thing that seemed to match the rhythm of my heart. I lost myself in the crowd, letting the anonymity of the night wash over me. For a few precious hours, I could forget about my father's expectations, about the arranged marriage, about the suffocating weight of duty.