Black Moon

Chapter 1: Omega Eyes

I flipped my raven black hair over my shoulders in a vain attempt to keep it away from my face. It simply would. Not. Stay! Even in the sleek ponytail I had it in, it refused to stay put. Infuriating it was.

Today was the Black Moon Ball and I would be working as a waitress for the snobby alpha and his mate. Not many would consider a male werewolf snobby... But Pendrick Kollins was. He was British, though our pack resided in Wyoming. He had found his mate, Amy Fitzpatrick, when he moved here from England. She was just as stuck up as he was, if not more. They were both so vain, but the worst part was that Pendrick had a streak of violence.

And I, the omega, received the brunt of it.

My older brother Svek tried to divert the abusive alpha's interests, but to no avail. I was punished for others' faults and some people had even taken to framing me simply to watch me get beaten.

The orders were non stop. Caloua, go fix this. Caloua, bring me that. Caloua, do my chores. Sometimes I wanted to rip out my hair. They wouldn't shut up!

The insults about my name were also nonstop. I learned the hard way that my name was also the name of the alcoholic beverage Kahlua when a teenaged boy teased me relentlessly about it. I'd always silently cursed my dead parents for it.

But I wasn't like a normal omega. Whenever I was ordered, something in me rebelled with all its might. It was almost like I wasn't meant to be told what to do. Normally, omegas felt submissive all the time. Not me. I had even gone so far one time as to hit one of the male wolves who decided it was a good idea to slap my ass while I was walking by. The severe beating was worth it.

However, I was stuck here. And there was no escape. My brother was my guardian because my parents were dead, and we loved each other. He was my everything. If something happened to me, it happened to him. If someone messed with him, they messed with me. But without my wolf, I wouldn't be much of a help if it came to a wolf duel.

I sighed. I still hadn't shifted even as an eighteen year old when all the other wolves in the pack had shifted when they were only 2. I grew up hoping, praying, to feel my bones snap and rearrange themselves into a wolf's body. It saddened me that I probably wouldn't shift ever. Or find a mate. Omegas rarely found mates.

And though the defiance seemed inherent, I had something that no one else in the pack had. Not even my brother. I had black and gold eyes. It was the strangest thing. I supposed they would be pretty if they weren't so much of an anomaly. Most wolves had brown, green, or blue eyes. But no. I had strange eyes. And hair. No one else had black hair.

But despite the color of my hair, I couldn't be a black wolf. Those were extinct due to the fact that they couldn't find mates. It was saddening really. I imagined that a black wolf would be large and majestic, a sight to behold. I mentally snorted. With my eyes and hair, I could be the black wolf.

Not.

They weren't special irises. They were omega eyes. At least, that's what everyone called me when I was in school. With not a friend to be heard of, I had to endure many insults, but the most cutting were the omega eyes comments. I hated being an omega, so telling me that the eyes I had from birth were omega eyes kind of implied that I was born to be on the bottom rung of society.

Still, I secretly entertained my fantasy of being the lone black wolf. A descendant of the last black wolf surviving even. That would be amazing.  But still impossible.

I sighed for the second time that night and tried again with my sleek black locks.

When I stepped into the ballroom's kitchen to grab my first tray of champagne and make my rounds, I heard my name being called. Turning around, I saw Svek jogging over to me with a bright smile on his face.