My alpha took calculated steps towards me. Each step he took more deafening than the last, his hard boots causing the wooden staircase to cry and moan. I turned my head to the side in fear shutting my eyes, my breathing incredibly labored. When he had finally reached the bottom I was tempted to look at him but avoided my temptation at all costs.
"You are a pathetic cockroach," my alpha began in between blows to my stomach with his foot. "You are vermin. You are worthless. No one would ever choose you as a mate. You will live the rest of your days crippled if it is the last thing I do," he cried.
Once again I was picked up and I was thrown straight down, the wind effectively being knocked out of me. I gasped for oxygen but was only presented with what felt like liquid fire being poured down my throat.
"P-Pl-lease," I screamed in between sobs.
My alpha spat on me and walked away without another word.
I closed my eyes and begged for death, but was only granted with a painful sleep instead.
Fun, fun, fun... not really. This book is my attempt to right all of the awful clichés that I see on a daily basis with this subgenre of werewolf. In a world of poor research and sloppy plot structure, I promise to at least attempt to rectify many wrongs... in one book. I have my work cut out for me, I know. If there's something that you'd like to see done in this book, make sure you comment because I'm writing this without a real plot structure in my head yet, so get your hopes and dreams out there while I still have time to incorporate them :)