Olive the Other Werewolves

Chapter Thirty One

"Olive?"

My mother died when she was giving birth to me, it's what I've been told for as long as I can remember by my dad. It's a little known fact about me as the whole 'disappeared dad' thing usually takes precedence.

The early passing of my mother is also how I got my namesake. Her name was Olivia and as a way to honor his late wife, my father wanted to continue her namesake through me.

The gesture would have been totally heartwarming if it weren't for the fact that my dad was quirky as hell. He had the bright idea that instead of just naming me Olivia, like any sane person would do. It would be a good decision to put a fun little spin on his dead wife's name.

And thus the name Olive came into being.

My dad was absolutely mad for thinking my name was anything remotely cute, all it's done is provide my countless bullies endless jokes at my expense.

To my father though, it put a smile on his face every day. So I put up with the taunting and teasing and didn't bother going about changing it. Besides, the paperwork to legally change your name was way too much work anyways.

Even after my father disappeared, I endured through it all and wore both my names proudly like a badge.

Olive.

Ludovic.

Families are messy, they are complicated, loud and imperfect. They are something I've longed to have back in my life ever since I was left all alone. The Ludovic Family of Three, it was an idea that enticed and haunted me simultaneously for as long as I could remember.

I craved the bickering, I yearned for the feeling of anguish after being scolded by a parent. I would have given anything to have a complete family again.

But with a 100% dead mother and a 99.9% sure dead father, that dream of having two parents who were actually alive and could complete my family was unrealistic at best.

Amias suddenly snorted and tore me from me self deprecating, orphan thoughts. Despite the situation we all found ourselves in, he burst into a quiet fit of stifled laughter. He covered his mouth with his hand and I quickly gathered what he was giggling about. I mean Lysander's voice was exceptionally high pitched for a guy, even I could admit it was slightly funny even with the ominous situation we found ourselves in.

It was a high enough octave to give pause, the voice was way too high pitch to come from a man. Which could only mean one thing.

Samson shoved Fran forward which drug us all with her, the closer we got to the famed vampire king the more realized that Lysander was not really a Lysander.

The overly dramatic lighting combined with the distance shrouded the figure from sight at first glance but now as I stood in the light with the figure, it was quite obvious that Lysander was not a he after all.

Lysander was a woman. She had cropped brown hair paired with floor length black dress robes and garnet eyes. The woman was slender and tall, her face was immaculately smooth and without a single flaw. She was somehow stunning and terrifying at the same time.

Mostly terrifying though.

As if the shock of Lysander's gender was not a big enough surprise, it appeared that was not the biggest shock of the day after all.