- Josie -

I knew I was the daughter of a white wolf.

Mum didn't once attempt to cover up her special features to us as children, she would let us sit on her white wolf when we were small, cover her with gooey mud during the rain and play hide and seek in the snow.

The pack never made a thing of her being a different colour, a massive contrast to their browns, blacks and on occasions...some are sandy brown.

I only have happy memories from my childhood and not having a wolf doesn't change that.

But when my brother's wolves came in during our teenage years, I started to ask questions. Where was my wolf, when would I get mine like my brothers?

By the time I finally reached 18...none of us were shocked that my wolf didn't appear. There was that hope... that she had been delayed but I knew better. There was no build up like my brother's experienced...no strange voice in my head, no random shifting at the most inconvenient moments.

Mum had gently sat me down to tell me at 13 that there was only ever one white wolf in existence at one time. That hers came to her just as her ancestors did, because her mother had died before she came of age. No previous daughter of the white wolf got to turn of age with their mother still alive.

I couldn't imagine Mum not in my life, she is my world and if having no wolf is the price to pay then I'd do it every time. I'd pick her every time, without fail.

That's not to say it was hard to navigate the big void of not having a wolf had created, especially when I live in a pack and am the only non shifter.

It took the pack time to also adjust, to understand why they couldn't feel me in the pack bond, why I can't be contacted through the mind-link.

But we made it work, they helped me to make it work.

As Jaxon and Jace threw themselves into their alpha training, I threw myself into weapons practice and working at the hospital. Maybe helping to heal pack members, deep down, makes me feel better about myself...makes me feel needed, that I have a valid place here. Dad ruled that the details of me not having a wolf should never exit the pack, that others might use it to their advantages. I would be a target for power hungry alphas or even rogues.

So he made me train, he made me learn to fight in my skin form and how to shoot firearms. He has taught me all I need to know the defend myself.

Uncle Orpheus, Auntie Rosa and Uncle Jude know, Dad and Mum trust them explicitly. Maya knows, because she is my best friend and also the entire members of Clear Waters pack...meaning George as well. They were Mum's pack and somehow just knew. When my family and pack were on pack runs, I was exercising in my cabin in the woods or working at the hospital. Doctor Abel taking me under his wing has helped me to plan out my future, to help empower me.

So I don't have a wolf...was it the end of the world. Lobo was my wolf. His sharp eyes scan out into the darkness, his ears perk up at the most minuscule of noises, he was as primal, just as lethal to any threat. For all intents and purposes; he was my wolf. The dull ache of my injuries wakes me, the medicine Doctor Abel had lathered on me having now worn off. Waking up with a pained groan I slowly sit up, tossing the bedcovers off me to inspect my wounds.novelbin

They weren't too bad...there was bruising still and the cuts had scabbed over. My herbal ointment worked quicker on werewolves because it compliments their wolf healing levels, something that I am also missing not having a wolf.

I reach for a my fluffy jumper, pulling it over my head before climbing out of the bed. It was early, too early...Jaxon will be leading the warrior training by now.

Deciding to head downstairs, I take my time...using the banister to support until Dad walks out of his office and not to worry him, I stand up...swallowing the bite of the pain travelling up my legs.

He isn't alone, that leather and sandalwood smell reaches me before he follows Dad out of his office. The scent tickling at my nose and I find myself

Leaning into it, my body receptive to it...until I notice Dad is still watching me. A tired but wired looking Knox passes Dad, his eyes not even looking at me. Does he not even notice me at the bottom of the stairs. He must do, his body is rigid, his face tense. He exits, I watch his back as he leave the front door, my foot taking another step down just as Dad's hand places on my shoulder.

"He's late for training."

Late for training? Was he not at least concerned for me, he didn't check on me at all yesterday.

Not once did I blame him, but I expected him to at least ask if I was okay. To have returned for dinner last night. Some small sign that he at least cared about my welfare.