The Mates of Monsters novel Chapter 2

"Brigette! We have to go!"

I stumble around my bedroom, grabbing my shoes and throwing on a sweater, shrugging it over my exposed shoulders. The simple, yet elegant dress my mother picked out for me squeezes my waist as I bend over to secure each shoe on my bare feet. I hate it—every second in these clothes.

"Brigette!"

"I'm coming!" I call back and hurry down the hall. My hands hold the tough fabric in place as I rush down the steps.

My mother is standing at the bottom, and she turns to me with careful eyes. She scans over every inch of my being to assure I haven't stepped into the wrong shoes or grabbed the grey cardigan instead of the black one. But once she's sure I've followed her instructions, she says, "Alright, let's go. Come on, before we're late."

My mother and father walk ahead of me as we take a short stroll to the Alpha's house. My shoes are stiff and rub against the back of my poor heels, but I try to ignore the discomfort to instead focus on how miserable the conversation at this dinner will be. Whenever I talk to the Alpha or Luna they treat me like a child, like their fourteen-year-old Amabell. No one here sees you as an adult until you find your mate.

As we near the Alpha's house, I feel a strange feeling deep down in my gut. A tickle, but not like I'm going to be sick—it's something else. My parents continue to walk. They talk about the dinner. My mom rambles about seeing the Luna again. My mind starts to wander and I find it hard to focus on anything at all. I stumble over my own feet and they peer back at me.

"Are you alright?" My mom asks.

I quickly straighten up and mutter, "Yeah. Sorry. It's the shoes."

"If you wore them when I asked you to, they would be broken-in by now."

We carry on and my heart beats heavily. I cross my arms and try to shake it off, assuming I'm just nervous to be in a room of intimidating people. It will be fine, though. Amabell and I will go off somewhere and I'll listen to her drone on and on about teenage problems of the feral kind.

When the alien feelings plaguing my body worsen, I consider telling my mother. What if I'm sick? No, she'll just think I'm looking for a way out. But—but this isn't a kind of illness I've encountered before. The feelings aren't necessarily bad. I-I don't know what they are.

I look up and the Alpha's house stands in front of me, daring me to enter with its grand doors and steep roofs. My father climbs the few steps up the porch, but I grab my mother's arm. She turns back to me, and says, "What is it? We're going in, Brigette. It's just for a few hours, you can make it through."

I shake my head quicker than I would like. Seeming vulnerable—it's not something I like to do in front of her.

"Just go find Amabell. I'll come get you girls when it's time to eat."

"Mom," I say, my voice wavering, "I really don't feel well. I-I not making this up, I promise. Just please, don't make me go in there."

Her eyes fixate on me, revealing hints of worry. My Dad stops and turns back to us. She waves him on saying, "We'll be in in a minute."

"Everything alright?" He asks from the door.

"Yes, just go on in."

Dad disappears behind the door, but in the few seconds it opens, something creeps out and wraps around me. My skin pimples and a shiver climbs up my spine. Something is in there, in that house, and it's alluring tactics are rising a panic within me. My mother asks, "You're sick? What's wrong? Are you going to vomit? Speak, Brigie. Talk to me."

Then it hits me.

There's only one thing that this could possibly be.

"Mom," I say carefully, "I can't go in there. I-I have to go home."

"Would you tell me what's bothering you? Is it your head? Stomach? The shoes? What?"

I stare at her. I don't know what to say; I can't think. Maybe a different version of me would conjure up a smart lie, but whatever he's doing to me has wiped me of all scheming, devious thoughts.

"If you can't tell me, then we're going inside. Come on, before they start to wonder," she says and takes my hand.

I trip up the steps. My throat swells closed. My heart vibrates in my chest. She pushes the door open and a warm light shines out. My mother takes me in with a bright smile on her face as she sees the many people gathered in the front room. I'm sure they are chatting; snacking on hors d'oeuvres. And he's here. Somewhere in the room. Standing or sitting. Existing.

"There they are," my father's voice cuts through the noise.

I can't breathe. The air has never felt so thick. She leads me in the direction of Dad's voice. I'm too much of a coward to look up. What if I see him? What if he sees me? What if he's looking at me right now?