Sexting With A Vampire
Chapter 37

Raphael

Everyone has a story, and I guess this is mine. It will be brief, I promise.

Past

Raphael Eleven Years Old

"Raphael!"

I barely get a chance to speak and show my mother the flowers I plucked before she lifts her hand. I take a step back, knowing she will hit me even though I brought her a present. Can I stop it?

SLAP

No.

Silently, I rub my cheek. The area stings from the hit, and my mother glares down at me. Angry once again.

"How dare you come home late?! Didn't I say you're supposed to come home directly from school and not take silly detours? You need to be more responsible, like your brother, Jafar!" Why is she always so loud?

She frightens me, so I shut her out and sing la-la-la inside my head. I know what she is saying anyway. Jafar is the better brother. The future alpha. The strong and pretty one. The older one. Not like me.

The younger brother. The weakling who can't use magic like every other werewolf in my family. The failure.

I'm useless in my family's eyes, a huge disappointment.

It makes me sad...

I just want to be happy.

Is that too much to ask for?

Why won't my mother allow me to be happy? All she does is yell and hit me, even when I try to make her smile...

***

Twelve Years Old

"Come on, Raphael, it's time to go home..." My mother walks forward, then sighs to herself. "Gosh, that movie wasn't even any good. Why did I spend so much to see it with the problem child? I could have spent my Saturday on more exciting things..." I peer up at my mother, then back at the girl sitting naked in the corner of the alley. She looks lost and alone.

Wait, are those elven ears?

"I will be right back!" I call to my mother. "I just-..."

I notice my mother is already gone and blink before looking back at the lost, blonde girl.

Should I approach her?

I do.

"H-hello!" I say, smiling. "My name is Raphael!"

The girl glares up at me, pouting without responding. She looks skinny, so I reach into my pocket to take out a chocolate bar.

I rip up the paper.

Her eyes immediately lit up, smelling it. I reach out my hand to offer it to her but close my fingers around the chocolate with a smile. "Your name first."

Those determined eyes narrow, her voice melodic. "Leonora."

***

Fourteen Years Old

A snarl leaves my lips, and I glower at my taller brother.

"JAFAR, STOP HITTING HER! WHAT DID LEONORA EVER DO TO YOU?! AND GIVE BACK HER f*****g BOOKS!"

Jafar pauses, but soon he cracks up and laughs with his three werewolf friends. They were harassing Leonora again and pulling her ears while calling her names.

I know that they have been kicking and hitting Leonora too. Her skin is blue and bruised, and I read in Leonora's diary that my brother had called her a freak again. Because Leonora is an elf and not a werewolf.

She is different, and Jafar is the biggest scum and racist on this planet-he hurt other people too. Werewolves are supposed to be strong and protective, but Jafar is only a bully. "Oh, look, Raphael has come to defend his freak of a girlfriend. How does it feel to have a girlfriend taller than you?"

His friends belt out laughter, and one of them sticks out their tongue.

What is he, five years old?

"Yeah, Raphael, have your balls dropped yet?"

More laughter.

"Nah, my brother doesn't have any balls... He is a little weakling who was dropped as a child-useless little cunt."

I ball my hands into fists, but Leonora runs up, grabbing my arm to lead me away from my brother.

"He isn't worth it," Leonora speaks in a hushed tone. "Fighting him doesn't serve a purpose, Raphael. Come, let's get out of here."

I let her pull me away but glare over my shoulder. "One day, I wish to defeat Jafar in a battle. He thinks he can do anything because he is the future alpha. He is a f*****g scum."

Leonora giggles. "I like you, Raphael. But how are you going to defeat your brother? He is the alpha and much more skilled at magic than you. Both fire and lightning listen to his command."

A smile crosses my lips. "I will figure something out. I've found some interesting stuff in the old family books."

Leonora smiles. "I hope it will help you defeat him. We can be the new luna and alpha then."

***

Eighteen Years Old

Leonora gazes deeply into my eyes. I'm not much taller than her, only an inch, yet it feels good to look down a little.

I'm six-foot-two.

Leonora is six-foot-one.

I win.

"Are you sure you will be fine?" Leonora asks for the billionth time. "You will die if this doesn't work out. There is still time to back out and take back your challenge."

My eyes travel to the field ahead of us.

A fire has been lit up for the occasion, and every werewolf in our pack has formed a circle. Everyone is eager for the battle.

The prize?

The position of alpha.

If I lose?

Death.

"I'm ready," I'm shirtless and only wearing shorts. More pumped up than I've ever been. "It's now or never."

Leonora steps back with a worried expression. I walk forward and step into the circle.

My brother, Jafar, is smirking at me. He has already celebrated his victory with a feast earlier, and I know our parents are here to root for him. The favorite son.

The one that only lives to make fun of the weak.

Jafar might be the alpha, but he is so unaccepting of other people that it's not even funny. Our pack is suffering because of him.

Therefore, I will take back the old when I beat him today.

I'm not sure how to lead a werewolf pack, but our ancestors had their ways, and no one complained, right?

Sure, it might be medieval to let women be in the kitchen and have men fight the battles, but who cares?

As long as Jafar doesn't rule, then I'm happy.

My brother doesn't accept other races. He is turning a blind eye to the vampires feeding on people.

And I can't accept that.

Pack members are dying, for f**k's sake! But does my brother care? No. The only person Jafar cares about is himself! Selfish bastard.

"Are you ready to die, brother?" Jafar asks. He sizes me up like a lion studying its prey. "You can still back out."

I don't respond.

I take a deep breath and jump from leg to leg, working up a little sweat before it's time to dance.

I'm letting go, diving into that energy inside the pit of my belly.

Not good at magic?

A failure?

Ha.

I will show them all.

I stretch on the field, every move calculated while Jafar laughs at whatever silly thing he thinks I'm doing. But soon, his pouty lips are set in a grim line-the magic is coming. I'm ready.

I've seen that magic so many times in person. Whenever Jafar doesn't like a pack member, he executes them.

That dictatorship will soon be over.

The crowd starts talking, and people laugh and point at us. Some werewolves whisper and gossip, and Jafar raises his arms. Magic courses in his veins-my trained eye can see it. I can feel it.

Jafar makes his move, striking fast. Lightning shoots from his fingertips, and I fly into action.

This will be over quickly.

I repel the magic-something our ancestors did because they weren't magicians. No. My parents got it all wrong.

Our ancestors were guardians.

Werewolves protect people-they don't attack.

We defend and repel.

And that's what I'm doing.

The lightning travels back in the direction it came from, and I stand tall, squaring my shoulders when my brother dies. It happens in an instant. Straight to the heart. Hit. Boom. Gone. Forever gone.

I'm the alpha now, and... I will try to make things better for every werewolf out there.

Vampires better beware.