Alpha [Explicit Version]

Chapter Two

Here's chapter two c: vote and comment! Kyler on the side.

**ANGEL**

The figure stepped forward, his eyes trained on me. I saw the pocket knife open in his hand and froze, my breath catching. I was going to die. Perhaps now people would be happy.

The guy dropped down in front of me, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look directly at his face. I simply stared as his eyes roamed over my injuries.

"You're hurt," he said, flipping the knife closed and stuffing it into his jeans pocket. He stood and held out a hand. "Come on, I'll clean you up."

I was always told not to trust strangers, but, at this point, I had nothing to lose, so I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. He started walking, and I stumbled along after him, squinting through the rain. We walked in silence for what felt like eternity, then came upon a clearing. To one end was a trail that led into the forest, one on which a car could drive. There was a cabin to our left, and a dark red hummer was parked next to it. The person led me right to the cabin and held the door for me.

"Sit up there," he ordered, pointing to the bed. I perched on the edge, watching him as he pulled a first aid kit from a cabinet. It was on the top shelf, and he barely even had to lift his arms to get it, he was that tall. He set it next to me and opened it before wiping my face with a dry washcloth. "Alright, this might sting."

He dipped a cotton swab in a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and applied it to the gash in my lip, making me wince. He pulled my lip out a little and wiped off the excess liquid before putting a layer of petroleum jelly over the split.

"Don't lick your lips, okay?"

"Okay," I replied, watching as he capped the jelly tube. I was surprised that such a scary looking stranger could be so hospitable. Especially towards me. "What's your name?"

"Um," he muttered, pressing an ice pack to my cheek. I lifted my hand to hold it in place. He was looking down as he packed up the kit. "Kyler. Any more injuries?"

"That's a nice name," I said after shaking my head.

"What's yours?"

"You'll laugh at it."

"I won't," he mumbled, tilting his head to the side slightly. I bit my lip, quickly remembered that it was just treated, and released it. "What is it?"

"It's Angel," I finally huffed, frowning. Kyler smiled, but he didn't laugh.

"Now, why would I find that funny?" He wondered, closing up the kit. He stood and went to put it up. "I think it's rather fitting."

"Fitting?" I demanded, standing and turning to face him. He leaned against a wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

"That's what I said," he replied. I perched my lips, crossing my arms. He suddenly stood straight again. "Hey, you should take that jacket off; you'll catch pneumonia. You can borrow one of mine."

"N-no, I'm good," I quickly uttered, backing away and hugging my jacket around me tightly. Kyler gave me a look and advanced, reaching out to pull it off. I stepped back a few feet and tripped over the bed, falling over it and landing on the floor on the other side. The jacket dropped off my shoulders and pooled at my wrists. Kyler, who had walked around the bed, froze, staring at me. I quickly looked away; he was going to kick me out for sure. He stepped closer, and I looked up only to see his hand outstretched towards me. I slowly lifted my own, and he pulled me up.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, still holding my hand. I bit the inside of my cheek, looking at my shoes. Kyler removed my jacket and lifted my arms, his eyes grazing over the little pink lines scattered along them. He sighed, frowned, and dropped my arms, walking away to a closet.

"Are you mad?" I mumbled.

"Yes," he replied instantly. I gulped and looked at the floor again. "But not at you. I'm mad at the people that made you do that to yourself."

Cloth was draped over my head, and I poked my head out, looking at him as he pulled my arms through the sleeves of the sweatshirt.

"Why? You don't know anything about me. Maybe I deserve it."

"I don't have to know you to know that you don't deserve it, Angel," he responded, once again still holding my hands. This guy sure liked his human contact. I glanced up and froze, staring into his eyes. I'd never found brown eyes interesting, but his were so dark that I couldn't look away. They were like mirrors, in which I could see the reflection of a pathetic looking boy staring back at me. "You're too perfect to go through whatever you're dealing with."

"Excuse me?" I asked, raising my eyebrows in question.

"Um, I didn't mean..." He bit his lip and looked away for a second, slightly sheepishly. "Sorry. You're just beautiful."

I felt my eyes widen at that. Me? Beautiful? Coming from him? Yeah right. I'd just walked into a rapist's lair, hadn't I? He quickly dropped my hands, biting his lip again and walking backwards to his bed and sitting on it.

"You aren't into guys, are you?" He asked. And here I had thought that he was straight. Well damn.

"N-no, I am, actually," I muttered, scratching the back of my neck awkwardly. "I'm about as gay as they come. Um. But."

"But?"

"W-well, I don't think I'm...what you said, so.." I trailed off, flushing and hanging my head. When I glanced up at him through my hair, he was watching me with a tiny smile on his face. "Stop staring at me!"

**KYLER**

I simply laughed; how could I stop staring at him? His hazel eyes were peering at me from under his shaggy black hair, and he was visibly trying not to bite his lip. He truely did live up to his name. Angel licked at the piercings on the uninjured-side of his lip before pushing the sleeves of my jacket back off of his hands. It was a tent on him due to his tiny height of just over five feet.

"Why are your clothes so big?" He whined, dropping onto the floor and curling into a ball, tucking his knees inside the jacket.

"Because I'm tall," I replied, grinning. He was the most adorable thing I'd ever seen. I couldn't tell why I was so attracted to him. Hell, I didn't even know I was attracted to guys. Yet, here I was, with a boy sitting on my floor wearing my jacket. "That suits you."

"I'm wearing a house," he grumbled, frowning. "I'm a fucking turtle now. Why would that 'suit' me?"

"Because you're wearing something of mine," I said simply, but quickly wished that I hadn't, since he stared at me like I had three heads. He shifted slightly then stood up, walking over to the bed and flopping onto it next to me. "Are you tired?"

"Mmm," he replied. I looked back at him; his eyes were closed, and he snuggled into the pillows, letting out a sigh. He kept shifting around to find a good sleeping position, and, in the process, the edge of the jacket and his shirt came up to reveal a dark purple bruise on his hip. Anger spiked in me again, and I had to quickly calm myself down. I had to figure out why I was reacting this way. Sure, he was a helpless, beaten boy, and sure, he was adorable, so feeling sympathy towards him was normal. But this was something more than sympathy.

And then it clicked.

This boy was my mate.