Alpha

1

Warmth. Undeniable warmth. Warmth everywhere. Arms, legs, head, chest, fingertips, toes. Not unpleasant nor pleasant, just slightly more than normal.

I open my eyes and memories flood my vision. Blood. Death. All over the floor all around me. Red, coppery, sickening, heat. Unnatural cold. Unearthly chill. Inhuman blood-thirst. Insatiable hunger. Unsatisfactory insanity. Terrifying, hard eyes. Grey, empty bodies. Sightless, dull eyes. Death. Family. Death to my family. By a remorseless, unnatural creature. With a hunger for blood and chaos.

I close my eyes unwilling to see the memories anymore. Brown. The color brown consumes my thoughts. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Honey brown skin. Brown. Brown fur. Brown paws. Brown eyes. Brown specks. Brownies. Pot brownies. Brown house. Brown. Unmistakable brown.

I open my eyes and blink, seeing what was actually in front of me for the first time since I thought I died. I was in the same spot I fell unconscious, when that creature decided it was time for me to die. With that thought I froze.

Shooting up to a sitting position, I threw my hands up to defend myself. Hearing a chuckle, I again froze, thinking the creature was going to torture me before killing me.

"Your safe now, the cold-one is gone. It's just me and you." A Native American man sat in the corner of the room, bare chested and bare footed. He was smiling gently at me.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" I moved to sit Indian style, and watched him as he looked down to the knife and stick he held in his hands. He was carving what looked like wolves into the stick, and doing it extremely well. The stick was the length of his forearm and the bark had already been scraped off, leaving the soft wood to be shaped. He continued his carving as he answered.

"My name is Grey-Pelt, I am from the Indian reserve just outside of town. I sensed you and the cold-one and saved you." His answer was vague yet hinted at a deeper story.

"Who is 'the cold-one'? How did you save me? How am I still alive? What do you mean you sensed me?" His messy, grey speckled black hair stuck out in every direction as he hit his head against the wall behind him and smiled. He shifted his eyes to me, still smiling, electric green eyes sparkling with humor and sadness and the same time.

"Inquisitive aren't you?" His smile widened as he saw the determination on my face. "Well the cold-one is a blood sucking monster who has no regard for anything good in this world."

I feel my eyes widen, and my breath hitch. "You mean, a vampire?"

Sympathy floods his eyes and smile, "Yes, young one, sadly I do."

I nod and look down, processing what he just told me. "Is he the thing that killed my parents?"

He cocked his head to the side, like a dog, and studied my face "Yes Lauren, he is the one who killed your parents." He continued to study me until he realized I was still waiting for the rest of my answers. "I sensed you because I am your omega. And I saved you by turning you into one of my kind, that is how you are still alive."

My eyebrows knit together "Omega? One of your kind?"

He looks me dead in the eye and stands, walking to me and sitting directly in front of me. "An omega is an alpha that was given to another alpha to guide them, calm them and serve them. My mind is directly connected to you, and when you get a pack, your pack."

He is still looking at me when the pieces click into place. I look into his gentle eyes and back up as far as I can. He makes no move just continues to breathe and look directly into my eyes.

"I'm a werewolf aren't I, Grey?" My breathing shortened and soon I was panting. His eyes were still gentle as he nodded slowly. He took my arm in his large rough hands and turned my arm over, showing the underside of my forearm. And resting there was a tattoo of a crooked arrow.

"You are a werewolf, and one of the most powerful alphas alive. Meant to lead wolves and werewolves alike. Known to all Indians as Crooked-Arrow. Welcome to the supernatural world Lauren Jauregui."