BRADYS 1/3 POV
The worst thing about my time in high school is that it was blur even worse is the childhood memories that I seem to have selective memory over. Yet the effect of my choices and actions stuck, in my early years my confidence, friends, reputation soared with all my inexplicable antics. The worst thing about them all was that for most of that time I would be going out of my way to get a rise out of people, make their day or time in class worthwhile.
Usually, this was done at the expense of teachers and other kids especially Malik Larkatos.
What the actual fuck was I thinking?
I don't remember much but I remember one instance at the meadow and all young pups were gathered for training by Mr. Hannez and his then alive wife. The hard rough bark of the tall thick tree pressed through my skin as I hastily climbed down in fits of giggles running away from my friends in a game of cops and robbers. I was a robber.
I stayed ahead of the cops and the further I ran the more assurance I felt that I was winning and the more inflated my confidence and joy grew in winning. I found another tree larger and wider it could hide me so I ran toward it, the closer I grew to it is the more I spotted with ease the figure that sat slouched it's back leaning on the thick bark, head buried in a Marlene King book.
His big soft amber eyes widened at the words he was reading, his thick long lashes flattering with the pages he was devoted to, his lips were a little too red a little too full for a boy and I thought the way he smiled was adorable and contagious, I wanted to cradle him and at the time I think I wanted to baby him, never mind that at twelve I was a cub myself.
"Malik" I called looming over him "You're reading again?"
He raised a small delicate hand over his forehead, squinting those big Bambi eyes at me "Hi Brady, is Mr. Hannez looking for me?" he asked sweeping his gaze at our surrounding a fearful tale in his wide colourful eyes ...Mr. Hannez was popularly known as the discipline head.
No one feature made Malik a guilty pleasure to look at, though his eyes came close. At Alpha camp, everyone and their father often spoke of the colour of a were-person's eyes and how they were of great importance to Alphas and their subjects.
Malik had always had his mother's eyes, they would change shades for no reason at all and for as long as I could remember I was simply fascinated and mesmerized by his eyes. The older I would get I would soon realize why, but at twelve-at much simpler times-I just liked to stare at his beautiful features.
Admire them and watch them contort in a mirage of different expressions even if I had to poke and taunt a little. I did it to all my favourite things one year my mother stopped buying me toys altogether because I would wreck and tear into them to see how they functioned. I think I was drawn to his eyes most so much I claimed him as my toy to protect and taunt with whenever I pleased. I was the Alpha's son, my friends were Beta's we could even get away with murder if we chose to.
I extended my hand out for him to take "No, but you should come play with me and my friends...we're playing cops and robbers. You and I can be on the same team" I offered perfectly sure he would accept my offer. This was also at around the time I was starting to notice and enjoy the perks that came with being the Alpha's son, no one could tell me no and I really wanted to play with him.
Malik scrunched his face the same way he'd done before everytime I'd ask him to hang out, he scrunched his face and put up this whole aura that implied that he was better than us better than me "I don't like any of the games you and your friends play can I please finish my book now? Pretty please. In silence" he was basically shooing me away with his words. And that upset me.
YOU ARE READING
SLAVES TO THE MOON(BOOK ONE): Denying Brady. ✔️Werewolf
#1 freethelgbt 12/08/19 #1 slash 02/01/20 #3 boyxboy 13/08/19]] An Alpha getting dealt by the gods a same sex partner although not impossible is unheard of.