A Mother's Secret

BELLE

I could hear my heart beating in my ears as I ran down the streets of Paris to where I hoped my mother lived. I couldn’t stop looking behind me, waiting for Grayson to come around the corner and chase after me. But he never came.

By a stroke of luck, I was able to slip into my mother’s building, and in very little time, I found myself standing in front of the door of her apartment. I knocked on the door quickly, hoping to God that someone would be home, otherwise this would all be for nothing.

“Just one second!” I heard someone shout from the other side of the door.

I nervously ran my sweaty palms over my jeans as I looked up and down the extremely fancy hallway, hoping I wasn’t about to see Grayson come up the steps behind me before I got the chance to talk to my mother.

This place was really nice. I’d known that my mother’s husband was rich, but I hadn’t remembered her living somewhere this nice.

The door opened and my mother stood in front of me, wiping her wet hands on her apron. She didn’t look at me just yet.

“Sorry, about that. I was making dinner and had my hands are covered in chicken fat.”

Then she lifted her head, and her eyes widened as they met mine.

I gave her a small smile and shrugged. “Hi, Mom.”

“Belle!” She pulled me to her, wrapping her arms tightly around me. It was the sort of hug she used to give to me when I was younger—after I’d won a soccer game or gotten home from a long day at school.

It made me feel warm.

I was surprised that she was showing me any affection at all. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d hugged me.

“Oh, my darling girl, you have no idea how worried I was!” She held me tighter and then moved back. She took my face in her hands. “Oh, you’ve gotten so beautiful.”

I pulled away a bit. “You were worried about me?”

Her face dropped and then turned sympathetic. She glanced down the hall in both directions, as if she was making sure that no one was watching, and then looked back at me.

“Why don’t you come in?” she motioned to the inside of her apartment.

I nodded and hesitantly followed her inside.

She led me to a lavish living room that was very well decorated. It was all white with accents of gray and cream. I didn’t even want to sit down in case I stained her furniture.

My mother smiled at me as she sat, removing the apron tied around her waist. She fit perfectly with her decor.

She was wearing a black A-line skirt and a white blouse, with pearls in her ears and her hair up in an elegant bun. She looked beautiful—like the perfect housewife.

After I’d sat down, she spoke: “You came at a good time. The kids are at school and Carl is at work. We have the entire apartment to ourselves.” She was wringing her hands nervously. “I’m so happy to see you, Belle.”

I nodded, not knowing how to react to all the affection that she was giving me. I looked around me. It didn’t seem like any children lived here.

Everything was so pristine—like I had just walked into a very fancy hotel.

“You have some explaining to do,” my mother said. “Will you tell me where you’ve been?”

I took a deep breath. I hadn’t really thought about what I would tell her once I got here. “I’ve been in Paris.”

“This entire time? Where have you been staying?”

“Well, I…,” I said. “It’s a long story—one that I don’t think I can explain right now. I just wanted to come here and let you know that I’m okay and that I’m going home tomorrow.

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to get in touch with you again.” I watched to see if she would react to what I was saying. “I figured I owed you an explanation. You are my mother, after all.”

~Not that you’ve acted much like one.~

My mother’s eyes narrowed, and I wondered if I had said that out loud. I looked away from her piercing eyes.

“What’s that on your neck?” she asked suddenly.

My hand immediately went to my neck, to where my mark was. It burned a bit at the touch, and I knew that it was because I was so far away from Grayson.

“It’s nothing,” I said.

My mother rose slowly from her seat. “That isn’t nothing.” She approached me and then sat down next to me. I moved away from her a bit.

She had this frightening expression on her face that was making me nervous.

“Let me see,” she said.

I shook my head. I had no way of explaining a giant bite mark on my neck without sounding insane. “No. Really, it’s nothing.” I stood.

“I actually should probably get going. I’ve done what I came here to do.”

Before I could even take a step though, my mother grabbed my hand. She stood up next to me so fast that I didn’t have time to react. Just as quickly, she moved my hair away from my neck, revealing my mark.

She gasped and stepped back.

“Mom, I can explain,” I started. “I—”

“You have the mark of an alpha,” she stated with a frightened expression. “And it’s fresh.”

My eyes widened to the size of saucers. “How do you know that?”

As if in slow motion, she reached up and pulled aside the collar of her own shirt. There, sitting on her porcelain skin, were puncture wounds in the shape of teeth.

They were covered over by years’ worth of scar tissue, telling me they were very old. I gasped.

“Because I have my own mark,” my mother whispered.