Prologue

“'Cause I’m not your princess, this ain’t a fairytale.”

- White Horse by Taylor Swift

I just wish everyone could just be good for a second. I wish everyone could just let me go or let me die. I’ve tried so many times, but I still can’t go. Every time I take hold of that small knife, I think about my mate who may be looking for me, who may be waiting for me, and I can't do it. I’ve been waiting for him, because they said your mate will take you for who you are and love you. I hope my mate will take me for who I am, broken inside and out.

Werewolves have their mates, or soul mates. The person who will complete them and love them; their other half; the love of their life. It was a really magical thing to see werewolves find their mates. The dreamy little look in their eyes. They said when you find your mate, you will smell the most intoxicating and delicious smell ever. Then when you look into their eyes, the whole world stops around you. When you touch your mate, every little accidental brush on the arm and every little touch, will send electricity coursing up your skin. Sending tingles into your veins.

I’ve been hoping for my mate, wanting my Prince Charming to come and sweep me off my feet. I’ve always imagined him to be handsome and loving. I’ve always imagined a Disney princess scene.