The Alpha and his Mate

Chapter One

So this is the new and improved edited version of my story. That's not to say there won't be spelling/grammar mistakes because let's face it, we're all human, but there are now considerably less :)

There is also a tiny little trigger warning here but nothing to major :)

Other than I hope you enjoy this story <3

Annabelle's POV

I wasn't a stranger to pain; in fact I was far from it. If I was being honest I could barely remember a time that I wasn't in some form of pain, whether it was emotional or physical, I had felt it all.

My first experience of feeling pain was when a stranger, in a police officers uniform, turned up at my front door with a pinched expression positioned on his face, telling me that my mummy and daddy weren't ever coming back to me after they had gone out on one of their date nights. No one had known quite what had happened to them, but everyone seemed to stop looking for them fairly quickly which I always found fairly odd. I had always thought my parents were well liked, if the amount of people that had always come around to visit us was anything to go by that was. I was only seven at the time of their disappearance and I had been on my own ever since.

I didn't remember much about my parents, but I did remember my father being a kind man, both to me and the people that always seemed to surround us, and his smile was so infectious he could cheer up any room he walked into. My mother was also a kind and free-spirited person, she loved everyone in her life and always made the time of day for anyone who needed her. The one thing that always captivated me about her as a child was her eyes, her bright blue eyes that looked like they held a secret that would one day change the way we all viewed the world. They sparked in the light like rare gems and I always wondered whether I would one day grow up to be just like her.

Unfortunately my happy family didn't last very long. I'm now living with my adoptive family, if you could even use the word family, on the other side of town, far from my old home. After my parents disappeared, and I was removed from my home the building was quickly demolished, leaving no trace of my parents and the wonderful life we had lived together. When I had found out about the demolition I had cried for hours, crying for the loss of the household objects that had been destroyed and the memories that they held. The feeling of grief was swiftly beaten out of me though, my adoptive father always stressed, 'there is never a time to grieve when there was work to be done'.

"Where the hell are my work clothes! They should have been washed, ironed and hung up in my wardrobe by now, you know that" my adoptive father, Tony, screamed at me as he stalked forward, quickly getting into my personal space. Before I could explain to him that I had already done the task that he had required of me and that he was, in fact, just looking in the wrong part of his wardrobe, he  slapped me across the face.

I dropped to the floor due to force of the blow and cradled my burning left cheek with my hand, feeling the tell tale signs of the heat and tingles that my skin was already omitting, warning me of the bruise that was to come. "I did Sir i-it is now on the other s-side of your wardrobe, if you would r-remember you had me reorganise it y-yesterday for you so that you found it easier to change in the mornings" I stuttered out. I remembered the conversation well; he had nearly broken my arm because of it.

"Are you calling me a liar" he hissed as he leant down slightly, making it easy for me to smell the coffee that was strong on his breath. I looked up from where I was on the floor, hand still cradling my cheek, to see his face contorted with anger. He had one of his eyebrows raised and arms folded across his chest, with an expression across his face as if to say he couldn't believe that I was even questioning him. To be honest I couldn't believe that I was either, I couldn't even remember the last time I had said something that wasn't 'yes sir, of course sir' to him.