The Alpha's Daughter

The Alpha's Daughter - chpt. 1

            I punched his arm and his grin widened, "When do you leave again? Cause the sooner the better."

            I sent him a flat look, "Don't be cruel, come on now."

            "You know I love you," he said, "but seriously, when do you leave?"

            I looked down, "Tomorrow morning at six."

            He sucked in a breath, "No way I'm getting up that early."

            I kicked his shin, "Jerk."

            "Princess."

            "You'll get up for me," I stated, "You love me too much not to." He looked over at me and stared, a tiny smile on his face. After a few moments and he was still silent I looked over at him and said, "What?"

            He shook his head slightly and jumped up, "Nothing." He reached out his hand for me to grab and smiled, "You coming down?"

            I jumped up on my own, ignoring his hand. "I'll race you!" He groaned but I was already running. I heard his footsteps behind me and laughed, kicking up the speed and leaving him in the dust.

            "Ebony!" my mother shouted, "Look at your hair!" I reached up and touched the tangled mess on my head. My hair—which was blonde—fell down my shoulders in tight curls that were a pain to work with. Running only made my hair more unmanageable.

            She attacked me with her hands, licking her fingers before trying to smooth out my frizzy hair. I laughed and swatted her hands away, not caring about how my hair sat on my head. She frowned at me and smacked with the kitchen cloth.

            "I tell you this all the time, when you go running, put your hair back!" My mother was a small women, with a slight frame. Something we both shared in common. She stared at me, expecting an answer. Instead I just hugged her, knowing it would soften her a lot faster.

            "I will next time," I promised.

            She growled at me playfully, "When you're surrounded by a whole bunch of wolves your age I'm sure you'll be more careful with your looks." I snorted and she shot me a dry look, "It's true, Ebony, you never know you might find your—"

            I grimaced and held up a hand, "Don't even say it."

            "Mate."

            I groaned and put my head on the table. "Mom," I complained, dragging out the word.

            She already had that starry eyed look on her face, "I remember when I met your Dad," he mused, "Goddess, he was such a jerk! I hated him, the guy seriously needed to get—"

            "Please spare me the details," I begged. My mother and father were still very much in love and the only thing they loved more than each other was talking about each other and their bond. It drove me crazy.

            She rolled her eyes at me, which was something she did a lot. Because of the way werewolves aged, my mother looked like she was nineteen going on twenty. Not nearly thirty-eight. I knew that when I hit eighteen in just under a year, I would stop aging normally too. The thought was unnerving.

            "Your dad wants to have a special dinner tonight," my mom informed me, busying herself with washing the dishes at the sink. A few pack members mulled around the kitchen, getting cans of soda or fruit. Most of the wolves were out enjoying the last hours of Sunday, soaking in the sun and running through the woods.