If there's one thing that sucks about being a werewolf, it's the healing loophole. By this I mean that just because our wounds heal at alarming speeds and we have the ability to heal from the most outrageous of injuries, we still feel all of the pain. Honestly, I think the entire healing process just adds more pain.

Sure, had I not been able to heal from my snapped neck, I would be dead, but it feels like there's a knife in the side of my neck. So, am I really winning?

Another thing that sucks is that our heightened senses never fail to pick up on the littlest things. For example: the orgasm-inducing, cologne-man's scent was literally cocooning me in this exact moment, and I knew it immediately. Maybe I wasn't alive? Maybe this is the scent of Heaven—but I'm in pain, so maybe Hell?

"Oh, momma," I groaned trying to raise my top half from the bed. This ultimately resulted in a sharp pain searing through my neck leading into my torso and head. I gritted my teeth as I pushed myself up again. Pain resonated throughout my body as a strangled cry left my lips. I forced my body to sit up right before making the brave decision of cracking my neck. The loudest crack I'm positive that I had ever head rang out. For a second, I genuinely believed that I managed to rebreak my neck. Fortunately, I did not. The bones in my neck and parts of my spine realigned themselves into their correct positions making the massive pain in my neck cut to about a fourth of what it had been.

"Holy man," I mumbled allowing my eyes to scan the very unfamiliar room around me. "This was not supposed to happen."

I wasn't an idiot contrary of what it may seem. Things just normally don't go the way I want them to, so in a way I'm not the one wrong. The universe is. If the universe would just work with me once in a while, I wouldn't have all of these minor problems.

I did know that cologne-dude was my mate. That was a given. I came to that conclusion when he barged into my almost one night stand and attempted murder. Although, I still can't wrap my head around why snapping my neck was so easy for him.

I'm his mate! It's rude! What a prick.

I swung my legs off of the very large, king-sized bed that I am one-hundred percent sure was not the bed from the motel. I used my arms to push myself up from the bed into a standing position which I immediately regretted. A muscle in my neck decided to be a spaz. It tensed up causing pain to skyrocket down my spine. My legs turned to jello, and my body fell to the ground in a heap with a squeak shooting out from my mouth.

I was laying face down on the floor behind the bed. I heard the opening of a door from the other side causing me to turn my head with a wince. The door shut followed by the sounds of cautious foot steps. From my angle, I could see a pair of dark-brown boots which I assumed were leather making their way around the bed over to me. The boots rounded the bed until I was no longer staring at them from under the bed, but instead they were right in front of me.

"Am I in Hell?" I asked staring at the scuffed up boots that had stopped just inches in front of my face. My neck was obviously not ready to murder anyone at the moment. I think if I even tried standing up, I would just collapse again. A slight chuckle sounded at my question catching my attention. "Mr. Tall, Blonde, and Handsome?" I questioned slowly craning my neck upward against its many protests to look at the owner of the boots.

I was not an all surprised to know that I was indeed correct. His fluorescent green eyes connected with my blue ones with a smirk playing on his lips. His dirty blonde hair was similar to what it had been like what I'm assuming was last night, but who knows. I could be dead wrong. His hair was just a bit messier now. Not saying it wasn't messy at one point of the night yesterday, but it wasn't for a good portion of the time.

"Listen, that's a real ego booster and all, but Matteo already wants to kill me. Quite frankly, I really don't want to die yet and certainly not by the hands of him, so could you maybe just like—I don't know—chill?" Blondie replied playfully, but I could hear the seriousness flooding ever so slightly into his voice. He seemed somewhat frightened by this Matteo dude.

It didn't take a genius to know that this Matteo dude must be cologne-boy from the bar, my mate. And, he must be a bit of a menacing character if he gets this sort of reaction from others. Good, I really don't have time for a mate who is scared of the concept of murder because when we get out of here there will be plenty of it.

"Well, sorry I never caught your name," I snapped making Blondie who happened to be literally towering over me roll his eyes.

"I'm almost positive that I told you my name is Jack last night," Blondie, or Jack, countered. I scoffed rolling my eyes before turning back to stare at the floor. My forehead was smack against the hardwood as my nose squished against it no doubt making me look like a pig.

"Probably was too drunk to notice." That was sort of like half of the truth. I was drunk at some point last night, but most likely not when he told me. It's become a bit of a defense mechanism to not know the names of the people—mainly men—who I chose to target and later murder. I probably just completely ignored him when he told me. It's just easier looking back and saying 'I murdered some blonde giant with nice hair' rather than 'I killed a boy named Jack who no doubt had a mother who wanted him to be named that because it was the name of his grandfather' or whatever. It makes sense in my mind. Without a name, I feel less attached.

"Mhm, okay Kayla," he scoffed making my eyebrows furrow. I glared at the floor not feeling ready to look at him again. I wasn't willing to let this guy know how jacked up my neck truly was even though it was kind of a given.

Wait, why the heck does his neck seem all fine and dandy, and I'm here like dying?

"First of all, numb nuts, it's Kaia," I said really making sure to emphasize my name for him. "K-eye-uh, Kaia. Got it, bud? Second of all," I groaned forcing myself to look at a smug looking Jack, "if I broke your neck, why aren't you in any pain?" Jack chuckled at me crossing his arms over his bulky chest.

"Kaia," he emphasized, "I'm pretty much high on Ibuprofen right now. You could cut my leg off, and I'm sure I wouldn't feel it."

"That could be arranged."

"Wow, what happened to the scared, innocent, little girl from last night? The one who was so terrified of being caught near our border?" Jack asked making me shrug. 

"You must have me confused for someone else. Perhaps that Kayla girl."

"Right," Jack drug out rolling his green eyes as I turned back to face the floor. "Well, you can continue making out with with the floor. I'm going to go take about six more Ibuprofen and hopefully pass out on the couch," he stated before exiting the room.

"Well, the floor is a much better kisser than you were!" I shouted just as he shut the door. Although it was shut, I could still hear his loud laugh that no doubt was echoing around the house.

The thought instantly had me tense. I already knew I was in a pack house. It's a pack wolf term. From what I know, pack houses basically just house wolves ranging from ages sixteen to like thirty. By the time werewolves are thirty, they usually find their mates and move into their own homes. The youngest wolves choose to stay at the pack house to stay closer to the alpha, beta, and gamma as well as participate in pack responsibilities like border patrol. Often times, other pack members choose to visit the pack house to see their friends and family who happen to be living in the house.

It didn't really add up in my mind, though. I snap the beta's neck and end up in a cozy room that reeks of my mate. Yes, because that makes perfect sense. Shouldn't they—oh, I don't know—lock me up in a cellar, so I don't try murdering anyone?

This pack thinks so little of me.

"Ow, ow, ow," I cried quietly to myself as I slowly pushed myself off of the ground. I only got to the point where I was kneeling before I needed to take a break thanks to my neck tensing up again. Pushing myself up the rest of the way, I made my way to the door. I turned the knob expecting the door to just open when it came to a complete stop.

"What the heck?" I asked yanking back and forth on the door knob. I may have the education of a fifth grader, but it doesn't take a genius to know doors aren't supposed to lock from the outside. The door rattled, but it didn't do anything more. My ears picked up on a slight tapping noise on the other side of it near the knob. I put my ear to the door and pulled it again hearing something hit against the door.

"What is that?" I grumbled. After about a minute or two more of yanking wildly on the door, I just gave up and walked around the room. I paced, kicked the bed, angrily ranted to myself, and even went through my mate's clothing drawers. There wasn't anything exciting in there. Honestly, I was hoping my mate was a psychopath and had a gun stored in his sock drawer or something. Unfortunately, he wasn't.

"Ooo," I drug out peeking my head into the doorway of what I now know is a bathroom, "fancy." Not only did my heavenly-smelling mate have a connected bathroom, but it was honestly huge. The shower itself was unlike anything I've ever seen. "This is the type of shower Jesus uses," I gaped. I turned to face myself in a mirror. I squinted my eyes silently judging myself before looking down at my shirt.

"Well, you aren't my shirt," I acknowledged tugging at the large, maroon shirt. I brought it up to my nose hoping to recognize the scent.

My freaking shirt almost knocked me out.

The knee-weakening scent of my mate made my heart flutter, and my mind go blank. My legs felt like jello along with my brain. I felt like a puddle of goo.

"Euyh," I flinched not caring that the noise I just made no doubt made me sound like I had lost a few too many brain cells. "That was like snorting straight Sriracha powder."

My eyes were watering. That was obvious as I was staring at myself in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed due to my slight spaz, and my hair was a bit of a mess. The long brown locks tumbled down my shoulders to my waist. I wasn't a big fan of my tangled mess that I call hair. Before I was so rudely locked away in a cell for a year or so, my hair was just a bit past my shoulders. I preferred my hair kind of short.

I looked down at my hand making a fist. I held it up seriously contemplating my actions.

"Is it worth it?" I asked myself out loud. "Nah." Realizing that punching the mirror would just cause a mess that I did not want to deal with. I wasn't a big fan of blood.

I smiled as my eyes landed on a little, metal toothbrush holder. I hummed the melody of 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' as I snatched the toothpaste and brush from the holder.

Growing up, we never had much. The money we had came from Mom and Dad's victims, and when Kaden and I were old enough, we made our own share of money. Some days, our victims were just wolves that happened to be alone at the wrong time. Other times, our victims were wolves that we were hired to kill. It happened more times than you would think. Due to this, I learned to suck it up and take things with a grateful smile. I could taste my own breath. I was going to brush my teeth using my own toothbrush or not.

I brushed my teeth harshly to the point where I'm sure some of my tooth was being brushed off. I continued brushing as I picked up the little, metal-looking holder. I took a step back tossing the toothbrush holder up about an inch before having it fall back into my palm.

Then, I threw it at the mirror.

I barely bat an eyelid as the glass came crashing down. I'd bet my left tit that most of the house heard the shattering.

I spit the toothpaste into the sink filled with glass shards before rinsing out the brush. I gently placed the toothbrush down on the sink. I crouched down picking up a large piece of glass. The glass glinted from the light in the bathroom as I inspected it.

"Anything's a weapon if it's used properly."

I kept the glass in my hand, internally groaning when I managed to cut myself on not only my hand but my foot. A hiss left my lips as I hobbled away from the glass and plopped onto my butt. I sat my weapon on the floor before inspecting my foot.

"One glass, two glass, red glass, and another piece of red glass," I grunted in annoyance taking out the three pieces of glass lodged in my foot. I just managed to take out the last piece when the sound of the door opening sounded. My ears perked up as my hand reached out to snatch my weapon of choice. My foot still hurt a bit, but I pushed that feeling away as I quickly stood up. My nose was completely flooded by the scent of my own blood and my mate's scent thanks to being in his bathroom, in his room, wearing his shirt.

I crept my way out of the bathroom gripping the glass. This was a situation that was not entirely foreign to me. There had been instances where men had caught on to what I planned on doing. I don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty good at what I do. That includes being sneaky.

A very large man with very dark hair stood facing opposite of me. He looked to be searching for something as he was digging through a closet.

I was behind him in an instant. I was not expecting for this dude to be so quick in his actions. As if he had known I was coming, he had quite literally thrown me across the room. I landed on the bed, thankfully. He was in front of me in a flash. I recovered quickly. Just as his hands grasped my shoulders pushing me down to the bed, I had forced my little glass shard to his neck. I was two seconds away from just ending the dude right there, but his beautiful, dark-blue eyes stopped me.

A heat sensation shot through my body. My mind felt numb, and I wasn't quite sure if I could move my toes. I wasn't even sure I could move my legs. I was frozen staring at the blue eyes that put the ocean to shame. Hell, they put all things to shame-blue or not.

My thoughts were put to rest when the door flung open causing not only my attention, but my mate, Matteo's, attention to snap to the person interrupting our not-so-romantic moment.

"Hey, Kaia. I figured you'd want-" Jack began saying as he strolled into my room carelessly with a bottle of pills in his hand. He stopped abruptly taking in the scene in front of him. His green eyes grew, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, "I—I think I'll just come back later—wait, no! No, I will not! I will not come back later. I'll just, uh, here," Jack stuttered throwing the bottle of pills to the other side of the room. He was obviously freaking out a bit by seeing Matteo here. God, he's the beta. What's he so worried about? "Bye."

Matteo and I both turned to face each other. I can only assume that the look of 'what the hell?' was the same on my face just as it was on his.

Holy crap, my mate's gorgeous. His eyes, his face, his jawline, his body. I could think of so many things I could be doing with his body in that shower fit for Jesus.

We both continued just staring at each other. Neither of us really dared to look away. He was just as entranced on me as I was him. It was then that I realized I still had a glass shard pressed to his throat. Deciding that killing my mate was not on my top ten list of things to do today, I dropped my hand down before releasing the glass onto the bed.

"Um, sorry for trying to slit your throat."

I really was not anticipating on those words being the first things I said to my mate. I highly doubt he anticipated hearing them, either.

What can I say? I'm a true romantic.

_________________

I think we all can agree that Kaia is a bit different than the normal female main characters we read about. I'm sort of living for it.

I find it very fun to describe things so bluntly because like it's Kaia's thoughts and in my head Kaia is Kaia.

Also don't know if you care but I'm low key living for Jack too. Idk man idk.

Anyway @ my crush hmu aaaaaaaaaaand THANKS FOR GETTING THIS ON LIKE #300 OR SOME SHIT IN THE HOT LIST. WTF U GUYS ARE BOMB AS HELL. YALL DESERVE AN EARLY UPDATE SO HERE FAMS

Stay awesome Gotham 9/30/16