Alpha Omega

Meet the Twins

Dominic P.O.V

"Ty, I need to get this done, shove off." 

The pepper patterned wolf that is my brother flopped to the floor with all the grace of a newborn foal. He jumped to his feet almost immediately and growled at me. 

"Stop nagging dude, you sound like a bitch," I say, not looking up from my computer. 

The wolf escalates to snarling, then finally barking at me until I lift my head up, meeting his blue-eyed stare. 

"Go find someone else. Unlike SOME people, I actually plan on passing my course." The wolf rolls his eyes, bounding over the bed and disappearing into the closet. I settle myself back into the pillows, trying and failing to concentrate on my Byzintinian architecture in Sicily. 

"Who cares man? It's not like you're gonna be building bridges when we graduate." Tyron the human emerged from the closet wearing his usual jeans, shirt and my bike jacket. 

I simply shrug in response. He moves about the room being his usual nosey self and touching everything before I finally sigh in frustration. I slam my laptop closed and shove it further down the bed. Tyron spins around, grinning his victory before going back to his investigation of my DVD's shelf. 

"That'a boy! C'mon, we can drop this stuff off at the smokehouse on our way and get Berta to do it." Berta is our housekeeper, even though she prefers to be called Madame by her staff. Once in freshman year, Tyron and I were looking for smokes in her office (dubbed the smokehouse for obvious reasons, namely because you can smell it from almost anywhere below the third floor) when he left his homework folder in there. The next day it appeared in his room, homework done for the rest of the week. So, since then, we've both employed her services to finish up some of our less important projects when something pack related comes up and stop us from being able to. Of course, we have to actually pass our classes ourselves so we re-read and edit the papers before submitting them by ten. We both know it's a douche move but how many other students have intensive Zeta training and royal duties to juggle in with school and social lives (Which, half the time are socialite events required of royalty anyway). Besides, it isn't like the Big B doesn't deserve a little tormenting. Ty thinks she offloads the work most of the time anyway but I like to imagine her stressing over gothic architecture. I don't know much about the Omegas, but I do remember seeing the pack records once and less than half even tried to get into high school. There's a reason why the uneducated wolves are at the bottom of the totem pole. Sometimes I wonder why Alpha lets them take up the entire basement for themselves if they can't even manage to pass the first year of high school. 

Ty heads down to drop off our stuff with Big B while I grab my wallet and head to the garage out front. We have two garages, the second having been converted into a living area for the Omegas generations ago. Mostly, they are the wolves who didn't change or rouges my father accepted into the pack who have to earn their place. I don't understand why we need them. They're just mouths to feed and bodies to protect. I wouldn't mind if any of them had jobs to contribute and it's not like they fight, being submissive or non-changed wolves. Practically human. Father argues that there is safety in numbers and, since wolves have such a hard time procreating, adopting rouges and accepting smaller packs into ours is the reason why we have been the Royal Pack for generations, because we have the numbers. Me? I don't think the number matters so much if they're going to be dead weight.

The front garage, the only one left for the entire pack to share, has all the good toys. Tyron and I have sectioned off a pretty big area for ourselves on the far side. It's not like we are depriving anyone anyway since the only pack members with cars are the ones with off-site jobs. By the time I make it to the opposite side, Tyron is already leaning against his bike.