The Last; The Werewolf
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The world thought that only male werewolves were alive. That the last of the females had died out over two decades ago. Female births were rare, to begin with, and after the Alpha, Above All gave the kill order for the remaining females, none were thought to have survived. The few female pups born each year were executed immediately. It was widely believed that they would grow to be careless and vicious, cold-blooded savages. They were stronger than the males and would be hard to control. It was brutal and cold. And thought to be wildly necessary.
Katherine has been under the radar for as long as she can remember. Born to Jordan, Alpha of the BloodRush Pack, her blood carries the scent that only comes from power. She was hidden from birth with her human Step-mother. Her father taught her how to fight. How to hide. How to run. And he taught her well.
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Silence occupied the clearing for moments before he spoke "You Katherine, you are The Last Female Werewolf."
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This is a world where power and dominance stand above anything and everything else. This is a world where you don't want to run around in the dark. This is a world where love is nothing other than a meaningless word used to describe the indescribable feeling of having a Mate. This is a world where wolves are dominant and only the most powerful survive. This is the world Silas, a loner and the first full blooded wolf in history, was born into. The world where she must prove her dominance in order to survive. * * * Unbearable pain erupted through my body, almost instantly. Dizziness made the room swirl unnaturally and darkness threatened to take over. "Up," the Alpha repeated. I tried, but, once again, I was rendered immobile. Another large syringe full of the green and silver mixture was injected into my body. This process repeated, time and time again. My body could not handle it. The room spun in quick, repeating circles as darkness surged, covering everything I saw and felt with a thick, black blanket. I couldn't remember anything. Not who I was. Not where I was. Not who was with me. Not what I was supposed to be doing. But, as I lay there, unconscious, beginning to go insane with pain, I could still hear, still remember, him. I could remember the voice of someone I had met, not that long ago, that already meant the world to me. I could remember the feeling of our wolves connecting, all but the new fifth member of my body, who had led me to this dark, dangerous place. I could remember feeling, for the first time in years, what it felt like to be happy. I could remember his name. Jace. * * * I do not take credit for the picture used in the cover of this story. <ON HOLD>
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