I stare at the group of men in front of me. Out of the thirteen, I recognize maybe half. There's the Alpha's sons, Damon, Damien, and Daryl. Dylan, the rich guy who bought my dress, and Darnell, the guy that beat Dylan up, are there too, alongside Darren and the guy I vaguely recognized as the DJ. And then things start to get weird.
The Alpha himself is standing there too, right behind his sons. Tiffany is somewhere in my peripheral shooting up with a waiter. So I guess she didn't notice her mate is also mine. Next to Dick, is just a middle aged guy who looks like he could be a banker or an accountant. To my left is some guy in a clown costume, a guy wearing broken glasses and suspenders, a big buff dude tossing a football in the air absentmindedly, and another guy wearing a hot pink scarf and standing like a stereotypical gay man.
"I'm your...what?" I gasp, thinking I might've misheard them.
"You're our mate." They all say in eerie unison. Fear, anger, and then hornyness cloud my visions.
"What do you mean? Which one of you is my mate?" I ask, unable to process what just happened. A crowd of people begin to gather around us, confused at all the commotion. No one answers me, but Dick whispers back and forth with his number 2. Eventually, he steps forward.
"This situation is virtually unprecedented," he begins, the wrinkles on his forehead growing deeper with worry. "But, Barbara Rose Quagmire, we are ALL your mates. All thirteen of us." The Alpha continues, quickly turning around and counting all of the guys crowded behind us.
"Hot." I comment, and then add, "so should we have fourteen-some?"
Some of the guys nod their heads in agreement, especially the one who's obviously gay-coded, but some of them look appalled for some reason.
"I'm not having a fourteen-some with my dad and brothers!" Daryl yells at me, his face red and distorted with anger. Damon just shrugs. Fucking pervert.
"We need to read and try to decipher the prophecy first, and then we can have a fourteen-some later," Dick says enthusiastically. The rest of the guys murmur in agreement.
"What prophecy?" I scoff, standing up and placing my hands on my hips.
"The great prophecy, written hundreds of years ago by the founder of our pack. It foretells the story of a werewolf messiah who will save us. The savior is said to have 13 mates." Says the accountant guy, because he hasn't had a line yet. He has a name tag that says David.
I shake my head in disbelief. Me? The werewolf Messiah? No way!
YOU ARE READING
Thirteen Posessive Alpha Mates and the Nerd
HumorTomorrow's my 18th birthday, I should be having the time of my life. But ever since I learned my mate would be at the Alpha's New Year's party, I haven't been able to think straight. I'm just a nerd, and an Omega at that, no boys even want me. My ma...
