Mended Marks

Westley Hanson was an unwilling former lone wolf on a mission: His Alpha instincts demanded a pack. A group to lead, care, and provide for. People he can cherish and who will cherish him in return.

However, an Alpha who can barely manage to raise his voice above a rumbling conversational tone isn't sought after. Booming voices should be far lower in the list of requirements to be considered as worthy of a pack, yet, it was what most wrote him off for. He was tall and broad, strong. He was a shrewd investor and hard worker. He could readily and easily fight and provide for those that were his. Yet somehow none of that mattered if he could not bellow his rage and ego for all and sundry. At least, that was the case for most.

Over the years he had slowly begun to build his treasured little pack. As each had made themselves a fixture of the pack, he could feel how it created further contentment and balance...but there was one thing they were desperately in need of. One role that he knew would be nearly impossible to find the perfect fit for.

Until he caught a particular scent and became determined to obtain that final piece his pack needed: An Omega.

Genevieve Dresden was done. Done with believing in pretty stories of adoring Alphas and devoted packs. Done with pretty promises that shattered as soon as they were spoken. Done with desperate hope of being anything more than a cast off Omega. Done with everyone telling her that love would find her when she least expected it. That statistically for every Omega there were approximately ten other wolves searching for one to cherish, so she shouldn't give up hope. Done desperately grasping at shows of pity in search for a brief scrap of affection.

No.

She was done. After her own sub-gender went into a rare form of hibernation after a time, she knew there was no hope of anyone being foolish enough to want her.

So why was this Alpha so determined that he did?