Kira
I woke up to the sound of loud bells that pierced through the peaceful silence of the room. With a loud groan, I rubbed my eyes, letting go of the drowsy fog in my head and relishing the comforting feel of the soft bed beneath my body.
The joy of a good night's rest was short-lived when I figured that the bells signaled the start of the pack run that my mom had told me about the night before.
"Do I have to go? You know I hate running."
"It's compulsory, sweetie. You of all people should know that.”
I collapsed on the bed, knowing I'd have to face the higher ranked werewolves during the run, and the thought alone caused an ache in the back of my throat.
Excitement was in the air as the other pack members hurried to prepare for the run. There was a pounding of feet on the floor and slamming of doors as their voices and chatter filled the house.
Why in the world did they think that a pack run would be so exciting? I collapsed onto my pillow and lay like a log on the bed.
"Kira, hurry up! Don't be a couch potato. Get up and get ready," my mom called out from the bathroom where she was brushing her teeth and splashing water on her face.
“They hate us, Mom. Why's everyone so excited like it's some award-winning ceremony?"
"You worry too much, honey. Alpha D’Angelo assured us yesterday that there would be no bullying or discrimination during the run," she said, loud enough for me to hear, and walked out drying her face with a towel.
"Yeah right," I sulked, thinking of an excuse to stay back.
The pack members' opinions of omegas remained unaltered, even with the alpha's guarantee.
I put on my sweater, a pink tank top, and a pair of striped joggers with reluctance as I got ready.
With my stomach in knots, I rushed outside to join the others for the run.
Amari and Zion stayed away from me.
Welp…
Farewell, good bye.
Elder Logan chased us out with a stick. We started running and kept up with the group. I dashed to the clearing, dodging Elder Logan's whip on my ass.
Hendrix, one of the boys, was complaining, and I heard him say, "Those bastards just want to make fun of us the entire time."
At first, it was kind of fun, running together like this. The pleasant weather and soft wind whipped through my hair, causing an exhilarating thrill around my body. My feet pounded against the ground making my wolf feel light and free.
But the moment we stepped into the clearing, I felt the hate in the air like a thick, suffocating fog.
The beta, gamma, and delta werewolves glared at us with open disgust, their noses turned up in the air like we were cow dung.
I felt so uncomfortable, as though I was standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall off at any moment.
They had everything going well for them. They appeared well-fed, with the male's muscles protruding through their skin.
We stood there, watching and waiting for instructions. A dozen tall, muscular warriors called out for omegas to come forward for training.
"Alright, slimy omegas! Time to show us what you've got," one of the warriors called out, blowing a sharp whistle. "You and you," he pointed to Zion and another male with a smug smile on his face. "Show us your best-shifting transformation!"
Zion bristled, and my heart began racing. He and the other male hesitated for a moment, glancing at each other nervously.
Omega wolves were small and weak compared to the others. But because they didn't want to be laughed at, they complied.
They shut their eyes, focusing on their inner wolves. Then they began to transform, their bodies contorting and changing as they shifted into their wolf forms.
But when they finally completed the transformation, the warriors and other pack members burst out laughing. Zion's wolf was small and scrawny, his fur patchy and thin. The other male's wolf was no better, his body emaciated and weak.
The omegas tried to ignore the laughter and snickering, focusing on maintaining control over their wolves. But it was clear that they were the laughingstock of the pack. It was only a matter of time before things got worse.
After Zion shifted, he stared at the ground, his fists clenched at his sides. I could feel the bitterness and resentment boiling inside of him and rolling off in waves. He was an asshole, but I’d feel the same way if I were in his shoes.
"Pair up and show us your best moves," a third warrior commanded, his eyes narrowed as he watched us, separating us by gender.
Alpha D'Angelo was on the other side of the clearing. I looked away, not wanting to make eye contact with him.
They called us one by one, ordering us to shoot spears, and as they watched us, they laughed at our mistakes.
I tried to ignore them and instead focus on the task at hand, but my breath caught in my throat, becoming jerky when I felt the Alpha's presence like a blanket.
He was here.
The snickering from the higher-ranked pack mates had reduced to hushed murmurs. D'Angelo's scent was so strong, making my heart race and my palms sweaty.
My senses heightened, and I felt a rush of warmth between my legs, my stupid wolf threatened to jump out at the sight of my mate.
Expelling my breath in a slow, steady hiss, I tried hard to calm myself down. When it was my turn, I felt the weight of D’Angelo’s eyes upon me, and I became clumsy, jumping with nervousness.
My hands shook so badly, and I couldn't seem to do anything right.
Why was he having such a powerful effect on me?
Zion gave me a frosty look just as the alpha stood behind me, bathing me with his sexual electricity. I shuddered, struggling to maintain my composure and feeling butterflies in my stomach.
"Alright, let's see what you've got," D'Angelo chuckled. Our fingers brushed when he handed a spear to me.
"Hold it with a firm grip," he instructed, his breath hot in my ear as he demonstrated how to grip the shaft with both hands. "Aim the spearhead towards the target, like this."
He leaned in closer, and my breath hitched. Every part of my body, from my head to my foot, reacted to his nearness.
"Take a deep breath and let go of the spear," he said, his voice low and husky.
Ignoring the mating scent filling my nostrils, I followed his instructions, taking a deep breath and releasing the spear. It flew through the air, hitting the target with a satisfying thud.
"Nice shot!" He chuckled, a grin spreading across his face. "You're a natural."
When the alpha left, I caught Zion's disapproving gaze and tossed him the middle finger.
I headed back to the house. I couldn't wait to escape to the bathroom for a cool shower, but when I stepped inside, a group of women huddled together pointing at me and whispering.
Shit, it has happened.
These women thrived in the sharing of sensational news about others. Everyone was everyone's business in the Omega camp. They were so nosy and elevated themselves in bringing others down, and with the looks they were giving me, the desire to slander me.
Sweat trickled down my forehead, dampening my clothes from the morning run. I brushed off the gossip and maintained my composure, not in the mood for unnecessary stress.
"Stop right there, Kira," one of the elderly women said with a silken thread of warning. "Where do you think you're going, you spoiled brat?"
I stood there respectfully because no matter how badly behaved these women were, they were older than me and deserved respect. Their mouths turned down, looking resentful.
"What is your deal with the alpha?" Kate asked. "Why is he always signaling you and your mother out?"
Ohh, Mom, where are you when I need you?
A knot tightened in my stomach as their caustic tone grew louder.
"I don't understand."
"Liar," another woman said, glaring at me. "You think we're babies. We've seen the way he looks at you. You are hiding something."
Blood pounded in my temples, and I shuffled my feet. "I'm serious. I'm not hiding anything. Besides, what would the alpha want to do with me? I'm just a dirty Omega."
They shared a look, whispering again before staring at me. "We've heard rumors about you and him, Kira. Stop lying."
When my mom came in, I let out a deliberate quiet exhale and bit my lips to keep from smiling. My savior, my knight in shining armor, was here.
I had not missed the flare of temper in her voice as she scolded the women. "Why is everyone always picking on my daughter? You all have children, and I don't go about doing a round table and making them feel uncomfortable."
"Because your daughter is a bag of trouble, and we need to keep her in check since you cannot train her well."
My mom, who was usually very cautious with her answers, was firm now, raising her voice and telling them to stop bothering me, shocking them into a gasping silence.
"Come on, Kira. Let's go," she hissed, grabbing my arm and leading me upstairs.
Mom = 100
Gossip mongers = 0