The Alpha's King Curvy Mate

Ariel. “What is keeping you in there?” Screamed Hailey, my stepmother, from where she was seated in the dining room. “Just a minute,” I replied hastily. I was busy putting the final touches to the breakfast that I had made that morning, but it seemed I was late as the entire family was already seated and waiting for me. I hurried out with the tray of breakfast I had prepared and placed it on the dining table. “Why do you always have to be so slow,” scorned Lyra, my step-sister, as she sized me up and down with her eyes like I was some piece of trash. Even though I was older than Hailey, she treated me less than a slave, and that is because my father allowed it. “What do you expect from an overfed buffalo?” Mocked Hailey, as she and her daughter dished out food for themselves. My father, who happens to be the Beta of our pack, didn't say anything as he had his face buried in the newspaper he was reading. I turned to leave, but my stepmother's voice halted my movement. “So tell us, have you gotten your wolf now that you are finally eighteen,” my stepmother quizzed in a teasing voice. Her question brought in the sad reality that it was indeed my eighteenth-year birthday today. The topic of whether or not I had gotten my wolf seemed to interest my dad as he finally dropped the newspaper with him to cast me a disgusted look. Members of our storm claw pack normally get their wolves from sixteen; our alpha, Daniel, had gotten him as early as fourteen, and even Lyra had gotten hers, but mine was nowhere in sight. “No,” I mumbled quietly, refusing to let the sadness I felt that moment seep through my voice “Mum, do you honestly think that the goddess would want to give her any wolf? Even the most feeble wolf would reject her fat ass,” Lyra mocked, her voice laced with venom. “Who knows, she might have choked the poor creature to death with those excess skin of hers,” Lyra giggled. “What do you expect from someone who killed her mother at birth? I wonder the sin I might have committed to be cursed with a daughter like her,” my father finally spoke, his hatred for me evident in every word he said. “Who knows, perhaps the curse followed her from her mother,” my stepmother added. It was one thing for them to throw jabs at me, body shame me, and call me the most condescending names, but I could barely stand it when they insulted my late mother. “My mother was not cursed,” I mumbled before I could stop myself. The next thing I felt across my face was a hard slap from my father. “How many times have I told you not to talk back when been spoken to?” He barked at me. Tears blurred my vision as stings from his hard slap burnt my skin. “How dare you talk back at the woman who raised you, if not for her, you would have been long forgotten,” he screamed in my face. My father hitting me was nothing new to me; he did that at every chance he got. “See what you have done; you have made Father angry; I don't understand why you have to make life unbearable for everyone around you. No wonder your mother took the easy way out because she would have been disappointed to see the glutton she begotten for a daughter,” Lyra snarled. The tears I had been trying to hold in streamed down my cheeks as anger boiled uncontrollably inside me. No, I wasn't crying because of the slap my father had given me; I was crying because I couldn't do anything about my mother being insulted by Lyra and her mother. My father had this belief that I killed my mother because she had died while giving birth to me. He claims to have been completely shattered by her death, hence the reason he has never loved me. Rumors have it that he had taken me to the pack orphanage as soon as my mother was pronounced dead because he wanted nothing to do with me. But my grandma had picked me up and taken care of me until my grandmother suddenly fell sick and died, it was then my father came to pick me up to come live with him. By then, my father had remarried and my stepmother had given birth to Lyra. After the death of my mother, My father didn't even mourn the woman he claimed to love, as he had gotten mated to Hailey less than a month after my mother's passing, and in less than two months, Lyra was born. You heard right, apparently my father was cheating on my mother and even got his mistress pregnant while my mother was alive. Lyra and I were technically three months apart. After they finished eating their breakfast, they left the dishes for me to clean up. I had just finished cleaning them up and was about to dish some food for myself when Lyra walked back into the kitchen. “What do you think you are doing?” She asked. I ignored her and continued dishing out my food. It was the last portion in the pot, and it was barely enough. “Are you deaf, or you are running mad? Did you not hear me ask you a question,” she chimed as she raised her hand to hit me, but I caught her hand mid-air and hit her hard across the face. She screamed out in pure agony, and within seconds, my father and her mother ran out of nowhere, and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor with my father bouncing on me and punching me hard across my face. He didn't even ask me what happened, he continued hitting me so hard until I could barely move. “You are lucky it's your birthday, I would have locked you up in your room all day until you know your place in this house,” he spat angrily before storming out of the kitchen. Hailey walked over to where the food I was dishing was and emptied it into a trash bag. “Skipping breakfast shouldn't kill you. You should be thankful because how else do you expect to lose all that weight hanging on you like a curse,” she spat, pulling her daughter out of the kitchen with her. I was left alone, hungry, and in pain. Blood tingled down my lips and I wiped it off with the back of my hand. I silently cursed the day I was born and wished I had died with my mother. I managed to get up from the floor and went to my room to freshen up; despite wanting to just sit the day out, I had some books I needed to return to the school library and homework I needed to submit. It was my final year in high school, and despite the storm, I was going through at home, I tried to remain a straight-A student. Once I was done with bathing and dressing up, I carried my bag and headed straight to school. The walk from home to my school was about forty-five minutes so I was completely worn out by the time I arrived. I was panting, sweating, and trying to catch my breath when I heard Lyra's voice. “You look pathetic,” she flinched her nostrils as if I smelt horribly, while the other girls with her giggled. She was standing along with three other popular girls in school who took pleasure in tormenting and telling me how much of a weirdo I was, just because I was bigger and looked different from everyone my age. I ignored them and went straight to my class; on getting to the class, the teacher was already rounding up. I apologized for coming late, and when he asked why I had bruises, I lied that I fell by accident. I couldn't tell anyone that my father maltreated me because no one would believe me. He was an exemplary leader who everyone looked up to. I noticed after some time in the classroom that I was becoming very uncomfortable despite doing my best to pay attention to what the teacher was saying. My stomach was rumbling, and there was this sudden heat that enveloped my entire body. When I couldn't bear it anymore, I excused myself and went to the female restroom. Luckily there was no one in there. I tried washing my face in an attempt to calm myself down, but it wasn't helping, every part of my body felt like it was on fire. I groaned out in agony, and for a moment, it felt as if I was going to die. “Hello, Ariel. You are not dying,” I heard someone say. “Who is there,” I asked as I quickly turned to see if someone was behind me, but I found no one. “It's me, Adira, your wolf. You are about to have your first shift, take off your clothes,” the voice said calmly. My wolf? I didn't know I had a wolf, I had completely pushed aside the thought of ever getting a wolf. I, however, took off my clothes, and just then, a greater pain ransacked my body; It was a pain I had never felt and could not fully express. Of course, I have heard of how painful the first transformation was, but I never imagined it like this. I could practically hear every bone in my body break and rearrange itself in what felt like forever. I had to do my best by clutching tightly to the wash hand basin to ensure that I wasn't groaning out too loud for anyone to hear me. But, only a few moments later, I felt sudden calmness as my skin gradually started giving way to furs, my hands for paws, and my teeth for fangs. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and was completely blown away by how beautiful my wolf was. She was a white wolf. “Am I dreaming,” I chuckled as I stared at the beautiful white wolf with sparkling golden eyes staring back at me. “No, you are not, Ariel,” I heard Adira say to me. “But white wolves don't exist; they are considered very powerful,” I asked, unable to believe what was before me. “Of course, they exist; it's just that we are rare, and that is because we are no ordinary wolf, Ariel,” she explained. Lots of Adventurous stories that I have read of how powerful white wolves are flooded through my mind. “I can't believe this; I have never been lucky,” I mumbled while fighting back the tears that were beginning to blur my vision. “Well, you better start believing it. I have come to comfort you, prepare you for the journey ahead, and also prepare you to meet our mate. You are no longer alone, Ariel. You can call me anytime you need me,” she said, and slowly, I felt my furs fading away, and within seconds, I was back to my human form. I was super excited to see my wolf and I could hardly wait to see what we could do together. I could finally run away from this hellhole, where I am not wanted and go someplace I am wanted and loved. In my excitement, I also thought about the fact Adira had mentioned that I might also have a mate, Of course, I had secretly fantasized about having a mate who would come to rescue me from this hell I called home, but I also didn't want a mate like my father. The idea of being mated to a jerk like my father made me edgy. I would rather be alone and free than be mated to someone who sees me as a burden or who would make my life miserable. Nevertheless, I couldn't help but wonder who my mate was going to be.