Claws and Fangs

Breaking Dawn

Next thing I know, I'm standing in a small clearing, my arms shackled to two stone posts. 

"This is ridiculous," I gripe. Relieved as I am that my life has been extended beyond my wildest expectations, Mark has to be messing with me. "Also, totally not scary, Mr 'You'll-Wish-You-Had-Chosen-To-Bite."

"Oh yeah? How often do you have the chance to leave someone in suspense?Just relax," he calls from the cover of the trees. "Sunrise is in ten minutes." Crystal is long gone, not willing to risk her Howl just to see me be humiliated, but Cooper lays in the shade, his tongue lolling. I envy his ignorance.

I snort derisively. "And supposedly an Alpha will be able to hold on to their Howl in sunlight, as goes this fairytale of yours." Fairytale might be a bit strong; every young pup has heard the stories, it's just that no one really bothers to test them. Whether or not they're true, no one goes out in the sun if they don't have to, so no one thinks it's important. Despite the realization that Mark's ominousness was just a drop in the proverbial bucket of his dark-and-mysterious facade, I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop, some twisted torture contraption to come swinging out of the trees and cut me down at the waist. So maybe I've watched a few too many horror movies, so what?

Mark chuckles. I'm impressed by the way he seems to stay so calm while I'm practically shaking (Why? Why am I shaking? I'm not scared... Not that much, anyway), but it's also very irritating. This is all theoretical, even if there isn't some extra level of insanity waiting to pop out of the trees. Unless he knows something I don't -- which I don't entirely doubt -- then he should show some kind of anticipation, shouldn't he? Maybe a glimmer of excitement about the results of his little experiment?

 The dawn breaks over the trees like a goddamn spotlight before my concerns find a voice, tearing through the haze of morning mist and casting its glow further and further into the clearing until it nearly reaches my feet.

Here we go.

I brace myself for the loss of my Howl. It can be difficult to control, prone to bouts of aggression and the occasional biting of someone you know, but its absence leaves a hollow place in my chest that feels a little like grief, at least until the next full moon. At least this time, grief is a much closer friend of mine. I close my eyes and wait. And wait. Minutes pass. I can feel the sun brushing warm fingers of light against my eyelids, but I can also hear a car door slam a quarter mile away as the local ranger arrives at his post for another day of napping and directing intruders away from private property. I can still smell the rabbit carcass about twelve yards away, buried by a month of dead foliage. I can also smell Mark's pleasant cologne, toned down just enough for my delicate sense of smell. I shake my head to get that last thought out of my head, and again to get rid of the thought of what it means that I'm an Alpha. There can't be two Alphas in one clan except by sons. If I am an Alpha, it means that my father is not. And if my father is not an Alpha...

Mark breaks into my internal turmoil as he gazes at me, his expression smug. "Well there you go, Mona. Still have a Howl?" What an ass. I latch on to his annoying persona (a far cry from the suave display he apparently saves for his girlfriend) and turn away from darker thoughts.

I nod shakily, then lift my hands from the posts. "You mind taking these off?" I half expect him to say no and leave me there just to get a laugh from his friends back at the pack, but to my surprise he steps forward, into the light, and pulls out a key.

I start a little bit when he doesn't seem to lose any wolfish qualities either, but then I remember. "You're an Alpha."

Mark bares his teeth in a strained smile. "Seventh son of a seventh son, sweetheart. It comes with the territory. Not a full one, of course, but still pretty powerful."