Book 1 in the Clearwater series
Maybelle Smith, or Rose as she is more known, is about as stereotypical as you get when it comes to a teenager. She hates school, her brother pisses her off, sarcasm is her first language, and she can't stand her math...
Maybelle's body hits the floor with an earsplitting thud that makes my stomach lurch. My previous anger forgotten, I immediately try to rush over to her. However, before I can get more than two steps, Matthew jumps in my way, his wolf tearing through his clothes.
He bares his teeth at me threateningly, his fur bristling up to make him look twice his size. My first instinct is surprise, but it quickly turns to anger as my wolf's need to help my mate grows. Crouching down, I snarl back at him with equal ferocity. I can't contain my pent up rage anymore; years' worth of restraint and oppression finally bubbles over being released in the form of unchecked aggression.
My rationality flew out of my mind long ago, and I don't even make the connection that the one I'm preparing to fight is Maybelle's brother. All I see is an insubordinate wolf standing between me and my mate.
I feel my muscles tensing, every part of my body ready to fight once more despite the pains that cover me. Just as I'm about to pounce, another wolf shifts, walking over to stand beside Matthew. I quickly recognize the scent as Maybelle's beta, and this makes me pause. They both bark and snap, neither allowing me to get any closer to Maybelle.
Seeing my hesitation, they advance slightly. Every part of me itches to kill them. My wolf is agitated and doesn't care about the disadvantage. It just wants Maybelle, no matter the cost. I rear and howl, my paws fumbling to try and find a break in their defense.
Having no other option, I take reluctant steps back, my jaw open and ready to attack. Thick drool and blood drip to the floor, and there's no doubt in my mind that I look feral. I feel feral. I feel like the floor's being ripped from under me and I am just left to try and fight the inevitable anguish filling my heart.
My eyes flick between the two, but there's no way past. Trying to get through would be suicide. Both the wolves snap their teeth at me, warning me to stay back. My anger rises to the point of breaking me. I only see red, nothing but a deep, continuous red.
That's when I knew I could take no more. With a final bark, I turn on heel and rush out of the gymnasium. Dashing through the halls, I exit the school and make a beeline for the forest.
The thundering sound of my paws against the dirt is all I can hear as I rip through the brush. My mind swirls with anger and contempt for both Maybelle and myself. Instinct drives me, and I run until my muscles scream, not daring stop for anything as a sickening sour stench fills my nose.
With another growl, my body moves to follow the scent. I don't even register where my paws take me, only focused on escaping this suffocating feeling in my chest. I want to tear it out. I don't want to live like this! I can't take this, I can't take this, I can't fucking take this anymore!
My presence known to all, I rush straight into the source to the terrible scent. It's thick, like a wave of horrible decay that makes my stomach turn, but I don't stop. I need to put an end to this, I have to stop this once and for all. Hardening my resolve, a loud, snarly, savage bark rips through my throat.
Not a second later, I feel the presence of rouges beginning to run alongside me. They don't make to attack me, simply growling and snapping at my figure. If I were a regular wolf, they'd probably make an attempt to kill me, but as an alpha, even in my current state, I'd have no problem downing at least a few low ranked pack wolves, let alone rouge grunts.
Perceiving no others, they merely clutter around me until I enter the depths of their territory. I stalk through the trees to see the remnants of what used to be a minor pack house. All the wolves surrounding me growl and chatter angrily.
They all bark and yap at me, but I ignore their irritating noises, growling to myself. My eyes flicker between each of the mangled and filthy wolves, searching for one in particular. That is until I hear a voice that makes all heads turn to the veranda of the crumbling house.
"Is that you Wilfred?" The voice announces in amused astonishment. Whipping around to face the man, I feel my insides twist violently. The man's dark skin is covered in muck and grime, scars riddling his exposed flesh. His thick black locks which used to be neatly groomed are now in disarray as he smiles down at me, his pale grey eyes twinkling with excitement. A rumbling growl ripples through my tense body.
Connor.
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