Wolves and Lycans: We Were Wolves

Chapter One

I have been a werewolf for a long time. By long, I mean for almost half my life. That doesn't compare to some werewolves I've met, the likes of Dean, my alpha; Vanessa White, his Luna; and Thomas Olligrander.

And Mason With-no-last-name. Or so he initially said.

These guys have like centuries on me.

I sit up from bed. Mr Cuddly is on the floor by my bedpost. I pick up the faded, worn teddy and put it beside my pillow. The little teddy has been through a lot with me and deserves to be treated well.
First, I head to the shower. My hair is a mess, as in downside-of-being-a-werewolf kind of mess. I stare at the weedy thing. You may not know it but lycanthropy and good hair don't always go together. After a few nights adventuring in an alternate form, my hair ends up with every kind of hair split known to humanity.

I pick up the scissors that is there for just that very purpose and make it go snip! The rough parts of my hair fall down in showers. I comb it and add every haircare product I own. And comb it again.

By the time I exit the shower and my room, I look my gorgeous, ordinary self.

‘Hello, pumpkin,’ mom says.

‘Would it count as being rude if I called you a coconut?’ I ask. Mom's response is a flat out, surprised stare. ‘I thought so,’ I say.

‘Claire–’

‘Don't worry, mom. I wasn't being very serious.’ I brush past her to the dining table in the kitchen. Toby my kid brother is already wolfing down his breakfast. Dad is here too, leisurely sipping his coffee. He must be on the afternoon shift.

‘Morning, dad,’ I greet. My chair scrapes against the floor as I pull it out and sit. I wait to be served.

Dad looks up from his palmtop to glance at me, at mom, then back at me. His eyes seem to say, For goodness sake, don't start.

Mom literally drops a plate of bacon before me. The cutlery can't help jumping up in fright. I sigh. ‘Hello, mom.’

I am a strong-willed and determined type of person. I can't help it that those traits clash with their originals in my mom. It just follows the rule of magnetism: Like poles repel.

Dad would prefer a quiet breakfast with the two most important women in his life at  peace. And quite ironically, there seem to be mornings that he could kill for it.

A car honks in our driveway. I cannot mistake whose car it is: Alicia's.
I grab my backpack, dashing out of the house, all my bacon sitting comfortably in my belly. I use Alicia as an excuse often to skip eating my morning vegetables. Mom is a staunch believer in them. I have a natural inclination to meat, owing to my werewolf instincts, but not that I can't eat vegetables too. They are just not my faves.

Alicia is drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. Her blonde hair has streaks of every colour in it today. The colours are properly mixed to be aesthetic and not clash with each other. She grins at me. If beauty could kill, Alicia would be wanted for mass murder.

As she drives, I show her, my bestie, the paint job I have given my fingernails. While she is still admiring them, I show her my full claws.

‘Wow. I did not expect that,’ she chuckles.

The purple varnish is beautiful on my claws, no exaggerating. ‘Shame no one can see this,’ I say and let the claws vanish.

Alicia grips my hand and says nothing. She's a beta in Dean's pack, same with me. Counting Vanessa White, we are the only female werewolves in the pack. Like mine, Alicia's parents don't know what she is. And if you look at it just right, there are advantages to that.

I am a redhead with blue eyes, two traits bequeathed on me by my lovely mom. Because of her hair—and maybe because of her temper too—though no way will dad admit it, his pet name for mom in their dating years was flamehead. But Mom's eye colour and mine portray an ocean-coolness that clashes with our hair.

My face and cleft chin run in my paternal line, and it is something of which I am proud. Growing up a werewolf has introduced subtle, more attractive changes to all these traits. Somehow, I wear them better than all my grand-ancestors did on either side. Like Alicia says, I have quite the mix.

It isn't too long when Alicia pulls up at school. I have more business than usual in school today. I step down and stare around me. My stare is returned to me fourfold. With the power of my vision, I can see the desire running across the faces of the guys in their groups. Some of them even give Alicia and me unmistakably hungry looks.

Remember I mentioned how I have been a werewolf for a long time? Turned by Dean at the age of nine, I have had years to adapt to lycanthropy, grow up with it, mature with it. My body isn't the regular teenage girl's. You can bet every part is fuller, riper, rounder. And so is Alicia's.

I walk towards one of the male groups in the yard. Someone whistles. I'm in a black jacket over a white tank top, blue jeans that feel like an extra skin, and high heeled boots. I am approaching the male VIP group of the school; I can feel the girls' eyes on me.

Those eyes will most likely choke on the sight of what I'm about to do.

‘Hey. Sebastian.’

Sebastian turns to look at me. Of all the boys in the ring, he is the only one who hasn't seen me approach because he has had his back to me the whole time. He offers me a most cocky grin. He draws me close and starts to say something but I slap his love letter into his chest, gently, considering.

‘Every girl in this cramped school may think you are one hottie they can't resist. Not me. You are not hot enough for me, Sebastian. I don't want your love letters cluttering my locker anymore,’ I say loudly. ‘I hope you get the point.’

Truth be told, Sebastian is hot, as far as regular humans go. But like I said, not hot enough for me.

He looks shell shocked as the whole school takes a collective gasp. I just hurt many feelings, many of them female ones. Sebastian gives me a glare of rich hatred, snatches up his bag, and storms away. The VIP ring slowly disperses.

Alicia is instantly at my side. ‘At this rate, no one is going to approach you anymore,’ she sighs but is half-smiling.

‘I hope so,’ I respond. ‘Sebastian thinks I'm attractive, but the principal reason he has been persistent chasing me is because he wants to be able to boast. By his side, I'll be just another trophy. He'll speak abroad of our exploits in bed!’

Alicia looks thoughtful, which is a rare thing; and which I love her for. Her brashness and impulsiveness, I mean.

‘I think this is all your fault. If you didn't make a point of saying no to every guy, they wouldn't feel that way.’

‘It's too late to stop now, don't you think?’ I ask, a little frankly.

Alicia laughs and hops off to be with her boyfriend. I suddenly feel alone. I curse the feeling.

Later that morning, I find a fresh note in my locker. Sebastian! I sigh mentally. Sure as day, the harsh scribbling is his penmanship. ‘You are going to regret this’ is all it says. It never occurs to me to take him seriously.

I have always been the one who presses the reject button. Little did I know that a guy even hotter than Dean—who at that moment was my definition of male perfection—was going to reject me. Hard.