My sister wants Lycan's love, but I want him to die

Bellatrix Sinclair

Today would decide my fate, the genetic screening for the mate selection was taking place. Before I left the medical room last night, Colton had to administer a shot to prevent any swelling for the next forty-eight hours otherwise my face would have puffed like a blowfish.

However, like this day, the bruises on my face were unescapable. An ugly swirl of purple and black colouring my cheeks and stretching to my left eye, quickly applying an entire tube of concealer over them.

I couldn't have any imperfections. For the genetic screening, humans were required to be pristine in order to make the choice easier for werewolves. Reiterating the notion that they were truly vain, only caring about appearances instead of what truly mattered.

Giving myself a onceover in the mirror, the thick layer of concealer I put on my skin made it impossibly pale, making me appear sickly. Rummaging through the mess on my table, snatching the contour and carving more defined cheekbones, bronzing the outer layer and applying some liquid blush to bring life back to my face.

Makeup was an artistry I perfected, making myself unrecognisable.

____________________________________________________

The screening took place in a massive venue, a sea of people awaiting testing. Bonnie stood behind me, repeatedly tapping at my shoulder, "Hey Trix, can you give me the necklace now? it's easier than waiting last minute till we reach the end. Plus, I need it to complete my outfit."

Bonnie was never one to pay attention to social cues or others for that matter. I wasn't oblivious to her selfishness, her ability to only care about herself. Pressing my lips tightly together, unable to answer because I might lose my temper on her.

"Bellatrix," she seethed, "Where is my necklace? Don't tell me you lied."

Taking a deep breath to calm the storm brewing in my chest. If I didn't respond to her, Bonnie would continue to pester me, and it will only get worse from here. Pivoting to meet her bitter gaze, her features pinched in displeasure. "Where is it?" she gritted.

"I don't have it." I reply, lips thinning.

Her crystalized sapphires burned with vexation, "Why the fuck not? I told you how fucking important this was for me." She snarled with an incensed tone.

Furrowing my brows at her audacity, I scoff in a broken chuckle. "You have no idea what I go through to make you happy."

"Don't act like you do much for me." She said indignantly.

My eyes widened, "Are you fucking serious? I do everything for you." I snapped. "I'm always bending over backwards to please you and make you happy. When have you ever done anything for me?"

"I'm always here for you, I don't think you realize how exhausting you are Bellatrix." Her barbed voice contested, deliberately plunging a knife to my heart. "If it wasn't for me, you would be completely alone because who would want you."

My lips part involuntarily, I prided myself on being impenetrable but lately the cracks are showing in my armour. For my sister whom I love dearly to say this to me, it was a punch to the gut. Nothing would shatter my resolve, but Bonnie was becoming an expert at torture behind the cloak of invisibility.

"I'm tired of walking on eggshells around you." She callously said. "You're so damn useless and depressing that I should get a damn meddle for putting up with you for this long."

Grinding my teeth, "Should I bow down to you and beg for your forgiveness?" I questioned sarcastically, "I wondered how a selfish brat like yourself lasted this long."

I was being spiteful, squashing the guilt and sorrow that soured my heart. Bonnie laughed sinisterly, "I might be a brat, but you have always caused problems for others. We couldn't even get adopted because you were so selfish and only thought about yourself. I could have had a better life if it wasn't for you." She spat bitterly.

"I know you like to delude yourself into thinking everything is my fault but don't get it twisted. If it wasn't for me, you would have starved to death at the orphanage." I sneered with a glare.

"Bonnie Sinclair." The announcer called.

Bonnie smirked at me, "I'll become a werewolf's mate and then I can finally rid myself of your pathetic ass once and for all."

She climbed the ten steps leading towards the gigantic platform. My eyes stung, blinking repeatedly to rid myself of shedding tears. "I'm not going to fucking cry at this, I'm not weak." I muttered, taking deep breaths to control a semblance of my emotions.

It seemed like eons before they Bonnie's results were announced, "No Matches Found."

Bonnie was fuming, stomping down the steps and mumbling to herself. This was her moment, she dolled herself up to become a wolfs mate and her efforts were futile. "This is all your fucking fault." She growled in my direction.

"Bellatrix Sinclair."

My feet were moving of their own accord, like I wasn't in control. Every muscle tensed, holding my breath for what seemed like ages. My heart racing impossibly loud that it resounded in my ears, it was eager to break bone and burst from my chest.

The instructors were comprised of a slender female and a lean male. They both had matching chocolate brown hair and hazelnut eyes, presumably siblings. "Please give us a sample of your blood." Her monotoned voice motioned towards the device.

There was a large cylinder in front of me, a life-sized lava lamp comprised of dark purple. I knew from others that it flashed red when you weren't a wolf's mate and green when you were. The man grabbed my hand, his grasp light and feathery.

A black rectangular screen imbedded into the clear podium before the cylinder, he uncurled my clammy hands and took out a pen that resembled the ones diabetics used to inject insulin. I barely felt the pricking of my finger, my mind racing with a million thoughts. Swallowing thickly, every inch of my body thrusted into an inferno.

He places my index finger onto the screen, making a swiping motion to showcase the streak of blood. A white scanner slings across the screen, processing my blood. For the purpose of this screening, all werewolves blood was recorded into the system like humans. They match your blood cells against theirs, determining if there is a compatibility.

"Please be red. Please be red." I chanted desperately.

Suddenly, the lava lamp bubbles change into a radiant gold. A colour I hadn't seen before.

"Congratulation." She beamed, "You are matched with a high-ranking werewolf."

I stare blankly at her, there is no fucking way. This cannot be happening; I feel like I'm going to pass out.

"What!" Bonnie shouted, outraged. "That's not fucking fair, she doesn't deserve this!"

Bonnie face contoured with jealousy, malice leaking from her orbs. "She is a traitor." Bonnie bellowed, pointing a finger at me which garnered the attention of all the guards. "She is in possession of weapons and has been illegally working on them for years. Bellatrix is not worthy of being a high-ranking werewolf's mate, she needs to be imprisoned for breaking the law."

My eyes widened, bulging from their sockets as the shock charges every cell in my body. I couldn't breathe properly, my thoughts in disarray and unable to process the betrayal. Hastily scanning my surroundings, every guard rushing towards me.

Hell fucking no. I didn't get this far to be imprisoned because my sister couldn't understand the difference that being a human mate wasn't a fucking privilege – it was death sentence.

Blinded by her wicked smile, my body vibrating as they attempted to restrain me. The icy metal cuffs touching my wrists, and I panic, kicking one guy in the shin and headbutting the other. My head was pounding but I didn't care, I needed to escape.

Making a dash down the stairs and towards the double doors. The guards were coming for me at every direction, twisting my head profusely to ensure they didn't catch me. Fleeing was my only option; I could only hope that I could find the rebellion group before they kill me.

Suddenly, I slam into a hard chest. Dizzy from the pain and stress, I barely register the deep raspy voice.

"Mate." He proclaimed, his searing fingers curling around my biceps and restraining me.

I pale as the word echoes like a haunted melody, my body freezing from shock and my heart leaping into my throat. Dread filtering through my bloodstream like poison.

Because the man who called me his mate, the man with piercing black eyes staring into my soul.

It was Lazarus de Loughrey – the Werewolf King.

And I was his human mate.