Alpha's Rogue

Chapter 8

Clarissa'a POV

unedited

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The child I had once mistaken as Dean's child, looks up to him. Seeing that Dean's sister is barren and without a mate, he's Xavier's step-in dad. He teaches the manly things while his sister teaches the necessities of life. Her mate died in a fire trying to save a woman who was trapped in a room on the third floor. Dean has helped raise him- and much to my dismay- Xavier continues to call him daddy. He is Xavier's manly figure-his dad in a way. So now I feel really bad.

I was currently in the kitchen making an I'm-sorry-for -trying-to-kill-you breakfast for Dean and his parents. I don't have much experience with a stove or anything else in a normal person's kitchen. I am used to using fire, sticks, and a knife- with the occasional rope. That's all I had to use. This place is like a world renowned chef's kitchen. It held giant black marble counter-tops, elegant white cabinets, and a marvelous refrigerator-stocked with a variety of foods, I might add- an island with a rack for your pots and pans to hang, beige walls and state of the art appliances. Basically everything. I can vaguely remember our old house-something along these lines- but ours wasn't as rich people like. No offense to any of the rich people, but what can I expect from one of the most powerful Alpha families.

The eggs I had in the pan began to burn, the toast-smelled of charcoal-so black it could have been mistaken for shadows, the milk-spoiled-the orange juice-basically just pulp. I began to go into a frenzy as the smoke alarm went off-filling the room to the brim with smoke- waking everyone up. I pulled the eggs off the stove, the toast out of the oven, and dumped the milk and orange juice into the sink. I opened the windows hoping to air the place out and catch a breathe of fresh air.

Harriet was the first to be at the bottom of the stairs. She rushed into the kitchen-frantically looking about the room-running over to where I stand with failing attempts to air it out. There was a vent-like thing hovering over the oven, running up into the ceiling. She walked over to it, reached up and flipped a switch. I watched in amazement at how the smoke eventually began to thin out-loosing it's power over the air. David came down next, putting his hand on the counter top "What were you trying to do? Burn the house down," he asked with poison in his voice. Dean came downstairs smelt around and looked directly at me. He ran over to me, gripping my shoulders to check if I were injured. Harriet had one hand on her hip, the other leaning on the counter about to say something when David stepped in saying "She nearly burnt the house down trying to cook breakfast." Then came Harriet's remark "It's a good thing I taught you how to cook when you were younger, Dean. Y'all wouldn't survive if you didn't know how to." She looked at me with both pity, anger, and disapproval. I hung my head in shame, even though my wolf disagreed with the action.

Dean pulled me into his warm embrace as if for protection from his mother. His husky voice resounded "Leave her be, Dad. You need to respect her. She's the Luna of this pack, whether she likes it or not." I gaped at his words. I'm the Luna? Why so soon? We just met, for petes-sake. I risked a glance at David-not liking what I was seeing- a permanent scowl embedded on his face. "I'm sorry," slipped from my mouth before I could even register it. Dean lifted my chin up and whispered "It's alright. You were just trying to make breakfast. No biggie." With that he began to clean up the mess I made.

Dean had finished up rather fast, but than again. Werewolf speed. After he finished he walked back up the stairs announcing that he was going back to bed, soon disappearing behind the walls. Harriet still stood there-eyes clouded over, one hand on her hip and the other on the counter- began speaking "Why can't you cook? You should have been taught. There is no excuse for it." I grew angry at this. I started to walk off when she grabbed me. "Answer me," her voice called out shrilly. Tears welled up at the thought of not being able to grow up normally, not being able to learn to read or write like so many others here. It pained me greatly. "You wouldn't understand," slipped from my lips a whisper. I hung my head as the pained memories came back.