Tressandra
I'm aware of the dull ache that throbs under my skin. I stare at the bruise with a fixed glare. Today, I wait until everyone is gone before I crawl out of my warm bed like the disheveled mummy that I am.
Constantly aware of my surroundings, I sniff the air to make sure that no one else is around. I'm in a house filled with too many werewolves for my liking. Especially my sisters. The sooner they leave, the better.
That way, they won't see. They won't ask questions. They won't have to get hurt.
They won't have to hurt like me.
I'm quick to lock the door, staring at myself in a dreadfully full-length mirror. I fell asleep with my makeup on. I look more like a raccoon than a person, the black rings around my eyes caused by copious amounts of smudged mascara, and a dangerous lack of sleep. Lack of peace. Lack of life.
I can't sleep, can't relax, as long as she's around.
Smoothing my messy hair, I wipe at my makeup while I plug in a straightening iron. The dark bruises on my face are quick to disappear under a strategic layer of foundation that's two shades tanner than my real skin.
I'm constantly dousing my poor body in fake tan, Mother's orders. There's no way to fight her demands. It's best for everyone if I hide, and follow her many rules.
It takes a long time to get ready, but she's happy when I look this way. Prim and proper, dressed to the nines like a real life Barbie doll. Sometimes I stare at myself for a long while, and I don't recognize that it's me in the reflection.
That girl is too pretty to be me. Too perfect. Too confident. It's all a lie, a beautiful lie.
After strapping on a low cut dress and a pair of heels, I stand at the door as I prepare myself mentally. It's time to put on the show. The show that they don't want, the show my Mother needs to stay docile. It's the only way.
I can protect them, save them, all by sacrificing myself. I open the door.
Strutting down the stairs, I hear my name already being echoed through the house.
"Tressa! Tressa!" Mother shouts, and I walk into the kitchen to see her standing at the counter with a mean look.
Once I come into view she looks me up and down, assessing my appearance with critical eyes. I hate her eyes. Cold, icy, calculating. I despise them because I inherited them.
Do I look like her? Do I look so heartless when I say things to cut deep? Am I becoming her? It's my biggest fear.
"You're wearing that, are you?" I nod, and she shakes her head in response. "You always were a whore. I suppose it's not all bad to show cleavage, you'll certainly grab Nathaniel's attention."
That's what she always wants. Nathaniel this, Nathaniel that.
Nathan Green is the next in line to become Alpha of the Pack. And because of that, we're all doomed. Though we're not mates, my Mother continues to push us towards each other. Nathan can't get enough of it. I, however, despise the creep.
More than anything I want to grasp the attention of one of the lycans visiting us. I glance away as I think of the possibilities, I wouldn't want Mother to see the excitement on my face and start pressing me for information that could doom me.
She wants me here, tied down and trapped under her heel. That's why she wants me as Luna of the pack. It means more control for her, more power.
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Tressandra ✓
Romance"I've killed. I've slaughtered. I've done unspeakable things, and I know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel for one as evil as me. That means there is hope for you, my angel." "And how do you know that?" I ask bitterly. He presses his fi...
