They always say that someone's true beauty is in the inside. Why is that? Why is our true beauty hidden away from others? People could always fake like they're a good person but you can't fake 'pretty'. Why couldn't it be that if you're kind person than you have a lovely face and vice versa. I was what most would consider a good girl; I did my homework and never talked back. That was how I was raised up to be, obedient and smart. People saw me as one of the guys, the darker one. My sisters were diamonds while I was charcoal. ALL PARTS/CHAPTERS BELONG TO ME AND MAY NOY BE STOLEN, REUSED OR COPIED. DOING SO VIOLATES COPYRIGHT LAWS. °ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Copyrighted 2017 *Completed* *This story was written a long time and needs to undergo intense editing--working on it!* He was said to be powerful, the most powerful of them all. A king of kings- a dark king. Complete control. He needed it- thrived on it. He was power, he was dark, and he was beautiful. They say he was a descendant of the first wolves- of shapeshifters so fierce they could kill with barely a glance. He was respected, revered. Feared. The King of the North. And we were the idiots sneaking into his territory. *Not your typical werewolf book* --please reframe from hateful comments directed at me or other readers who enjoy the story. *This book has no sexually mature scenes and is PG-13* *This book has nothing to do with The Game of Thrones, and is not a fanfic of any kind*