I

I stood over the sink, watching crimson stain the porcelain before being washed down the drain. I coughed up a mouthful of blood once more, anxiously waiting for my healing to catch up to the injury. I assumed a punctured lung - not exactly something that one should trust to accelerated healing, but I had handled worse. 

When I was confident there was no more blood to cough up and the external injuries had begun to show evidence of healing, I stumbled out of the bathroom and flopped down on my bed. I crossed my fingers that my roommate would be out late again - I didn’t want to have to explain coughing up blood. She would try and take me to the hospital again, and I would have to weave together another web of lies. 

Last time, they had begun to question if I was in an abusive relationship. 

Only with myself. 

But there was no such luck. I only had a couple hours of peace before I heard the door to our apartment crash open. 

“Maise! I’m home!” Leah called in her bright, sunshine and daisies voice. It grated against my eardrums. All I wanted was silence. 

She would come into my room with her overexuberance if I didn’t greet her. So, I rolled out of bed, coughed a few times to make sure I was no longer congested with blood, and stumbled out to the living room. 

“What happened to the guy you were meeting up with?” I asked. 

She waved off my question, a clear sign she was covering up her frustration. “Total drag. Better when I was drunk.”

I rolled my eyes. No matter how many times I told her the men she was in love with while drunk were not a catch, she didn’t believe me. I had stopped trying a while ago. “Did you at least confirm if he was as good in bed as you thought?”

Leah scoffed. “Wasn’t gonna hang around long enough for that. Besides, he called you weird.”

I smirked. Through all her flaws, Leah was a fiercely loyal friend. Of course it would be a snide comment about me that would preclude him from a reprise of their drunken one night stand last weekend. 

“But what’s going on with you, Mai? You don’t look so hot. Were you able to run your errands? I could’ve picked stuff up for you if you needed it!” she babbled.

“I’m fine,” I assured her, choking down a liquidy cough. “Think I just ate something bad after I got back from… errands.”

She nodded emphatically, as if she understood. “Gotcha. Well, I gotta tell you about how terrible this date was!”

“Go for it.”

I let her talk, trying to drown it out. I knew her talking patterns well enough to know when I needed to make a sound to encourage her to continue, or guarantee I was listening. I loved Leah, I truly did. She was a sweetheart, and had plenty of redeeming qualities to offset her naivety and incessant talking. She had one singular flaw that prevented me from truly opening up to her, though, and it was that she was human. 

I was decidedly not human.

You see, I was a werewolf. My father was the Alpha King - the alpha of all alphas. I came from the family that was werewolf royalty. Only the lycans were greater than us. 

But I was no longer a princess.

And I had no desire to be. 

What I did now did more good than a princess would ever be capable of. I found my way out of the pack by doing the exact same thing I was doing now - standing up for those with no voice. Even to my detriment.

Sure, I was a runt. Exceptionally small, and perceived as weak. My wolf appearing as a pup still was no help. No one expected me to be a radical queen. And for that reason, my banishment was a blessing. I accomplished so much more now than I ever would have sitting in a pretty castle. 

I could feel myself dozing off. I needed to stay awake, I knew that, but I wanted the excuse to get out from under Leah’s thumb. 

“Hey. I’m gonna go to bed,” I finally sighed, stifling a yawn. 

Leah peaked her head around the door to the kitchen, where she was making drinks. “What? But I was about to make morgan cokes. Those are your favorite!”

I smiled weakly. “I know, but I’m not feeling so hot. Rain check?”

“Fine,” she huffed. “But you can’t weasel out of it this time!”

Within the safety of my room, I glanced longingly at my bed. I knew if I laid down, I would drift off to sleep in an instant, but if I had blood constantly filling my lungs, I was at risk of drowning. I needed to stay awake, and I wanted to be alone. 

Silence in the noise. Anonymity in the masses. I pulled on some ripped skinny jeans, slipped on my Chucks, and didn’t forget to grab my leather jacket on my way to the window. 

I had to laugh at myself. A twenty-three year old woman who had been living on their own for eight years was sneaking out. But, if Leah saw me, she’d ask too many questions - or worse, ask if she could tag along. 

I loved her, but she didn’t understand. She didn’t enjoy being alone. 

My feet hit the ground, and I took a moment to take a deep breath before heading down the street. This cityscape was far from an ideal environment for a werewolf, but it was my best option to remain undiscovered. 

I needed to shift. My wolf was about ready to claw its way out of me, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold off. But, finding an appropriate location where it was safe for me to go for a run was hard, and rare. 

I was a runt. My wolf was small. As a pup, it wasn’t obvious. But, as I grew, it became clear I wasn’t keeping up with the others. My wolf was still just as adorable as it was when I was five years old, and I hated it. It was like my wolfside never hit the growth spurts everyone else did. My human skin was not much better - barely five feet tall when five foot seven was considered short for a she-wolf.

For those of you wondering, most models out there are actually werewolves. 

No one understood how it happened. I was from a noble line with exceptionally strong genetics. I was blessed to never be ridiculed for my size, though. My physical training had been personalized, but my focus as a leader had gone in the diplomatic direction. 

After banishment, though, I knew I stood no chance surviving as a rogue in the woods because of it, so I went straight to the human community. The first few years were rough as I was a minor by human standards - werewolves as well, but that was neither here nor there - but a few lucky finds helped me find my place.

One of those lucky finds was the bar I had just arrived at. 

It called itself a club, but was better classified as a dive. It drew me in seven years ago after a year on the street because of the smell - it wreaked of the supernatural. All those years ago it had been a solace for the outcasts, like me. I was cautious walking in at first, but my new look and new name meant none were the wise, and it was never suspected that I was the banished princess. 

Now, though, the Djinn and Tonic was a bit more than a place for the outcasts.

It was a place any of us hidden in plain sight sought solace. 

Upon walking through the door, there were no ranks. There were no species, no grudges. It was a rule that was strictly adhered to and enforced. The rogue by the door ensured that.

I got my first job here - a sympathy offering as an overpaid dishwasher. It took me three years to work up to being a bartender, but the security was worth it. It was a risk when I quit, but the man who owned the place claimed he had been waiting on the day I did. 

You see, I had discovered some ways around leaving turf wars at the door, and had gotten quite good at taking them outside. 

I never started fights, but I was more than willing to finish them. 

They were never my own battles, but I chose the ones I would have my hand in. There was one very clear requirement for the ones worth my time - they must be for the greater good. 

My scent made me a clear target for the people seeking out Djinn and Juice for hitmen, but my appearance would swing them one of two ways. Some would see my size and walk away, but those were usually the people who were looking for selfish gain. The ones who saw the hard gaze, grungy punk rocker style, and tattoos for a physical manifestation of my mind would smile, knowing no one would suspect the little girl. I rarely had to turn down those guys. The pay was less, but the cause was better.

Someone once said, ‘“And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.” Steinbeck, I think.

No matter the reasons I was cast away, I was trained to protect. While it was with my voice and not a fist, picking up new skills was easy enough, and my core beliefs never change.

Even if my father’s clearly had.