Kissed By The Curse

The bucket of cold water hit the floor before I did.

My knees cracked against the tile; it was hard to keep from making a sound. Crying out would only make it worse. It always made it worse.

"Clean it up." Vanessa's voice dripped with satisfaction. She stood above me, arms crossed, looking every bit the high-ranking she-wolf she was. Beautiful. Powerful. Everything I wasn't. "And when you're done with this hall, the kitchens need scrubbing. The Alpha King arrives tomorrow, and I won't have this place looking like the pigsty in which you live."

I kept my eyes down. Didn't respond. Learned that lesson years ago.

She waited, hoping I would give her a reason. When I didn't, she scoffed and walked away with her heels clicking against the floor.

I stayed on my knees until the sound faded completely.

Only then did I let out the breath I had been holding.

Twenty years. Twenty years of this. Born under a blood moon, cursed from the moment I took my first breath, and reminded of it every single day since. The pack didn't just hate me-they pitied me. And somehow, that was worse.

I grabbed the rag from the bucket and started mopping up the spilled water. My hands were red and raw from scrubbing all morning, but I didn't stop. Couldn't stop. If I didn't finish before nightfall, Elder Rowan would give me that look again-the one that said he was disappointed but not surprised.

The one that said I was exactly what everyone expected me to be.

Weak. Broken. Useless.

My wolf stirred somewhere deep inside, barely a whisper. She had been quiet for so long I almost forgot she existed. Most wolves shifted for the first time by sixteen. I was twenty, and mine still hadn't shown herself. Another mark against me. Another reason for the pack to look right through me.

I wrung out the rag and moved down the hall, scrubbing in silence.

The Blackwood estate was massive, old stone with high ceilings, built back when our bloodline actually meant something. Now it was just a reminder of everything we had lost. My father died before I was born. My mother when I was ten. After that, it was just me and the weight of a name no one respected anymore.

I didn't even live in the main house. I had a room in the servants' quarters, smaller than a closet, with a cot that creaked every time I rolled over and a window that didn't close all the way, but it was mine. The only space in this whole place that was mine.

I finished the hall and moved to the kitchens. The work was endless. Scrub the floors, wash the dishes, haul the trash, and serve the meals. I did it all without complaint because what choice did I have? I had no money, no family, and no future outside this pack. And every time I thought about running, about disappearing into