Rheodie, still as useless-looking as I remember. I stand right where it all began fifteen years ago and still feel the same raging anger for all I lost. I'm right at the town's border, my black sedan idling as I take in the sight of my birthplace. The weather worsens with dark clouds, the wind picks up. By now all Alphas would have sensed someone was about to enter their territory, something old and angry and that would put them on edge. Good, I want them tensed, terrified, utterly shaking in their boots. What is to come will not be merciful; if karma is a bitch then I am her Alpha.
“Ready to go, Sir?” Maxwell, my driver, confidante, and pseudo-bodyguard asks from behind the wheel.
“No time like the present,” I reply and rebutton my grey coat covering my charcoal-black designer suit. I adjust my leather gloves and hop in.
The minute we enter the town I unleash my aura, making my presence felt far and wide. “Give and it will come back,” I say with a wicked smirk.
As we make our way through the town I am overcome with anticipation, a near-giddiness for what is to come. After all these years, the game has finally begun. I think of the key players and the ball I set rolling eight years ago. Lost in my musings I scent lilies in the air and smile darkly. Directing Maxwell, he parks in a lot in front of a bridal store. How ironic. I step out with a black umbrella to shield me from the pelting rain. Through the large display window, I witness a slap, followed by a flurry of activity. Lily-girl leaves for a bit and comes back with a bag and exits the store. A bell jingles, and she stands under the pink awning rummaging through her bag, I wait patiently for her to lift her head and notice me. The handle snaps and it falls spilling its contents. I hear her curse and she bends to pick them up. A strong wind blows carrying my scent, and her head jerks up and turns in my direction. I hide my smile with the umbrella. She rises slowly and takes an unconscious step towards me. The rain cocoons us in a shell of muted sound. It's electric, her startled gaze.
Claire's POV
Do you want to know the worst thing about not manifesting a wolf? The strength difference. I'm stronger than your average human for sure but weaker than a werewolf. That's why the slap stings along with my dignity. The skin feels warm immediately and I know it's rec. I turn my head back to face Freya. She lifts her chin and stares at me hauntingly like she's daring me to do something about it. I register the shocked faces of the other attendants. Amongst the four girls, three are trying hard to cover their smirks and laughter. The other looks uninterested. Dame Lou barks out orders and apologizes to Freya profusely. I'm still dazed a bit but snap back when she tells me to pack my stuff and leave for the day.
“-but,” I try to protest.
“You're done for the day, Claire; just leave, you're upsetting my customer. I'll call you.”
I'm upsetting your customer? Or she rudely assaulted me over some ancient beef because she's an insecure hussy who has secretly hated the fact that she got stuck with that sleazeball Darren is her mate!!!!
I don't dare say any of this out loud. What's the point, they'll say I'm just a jealous b**ch anyway. I pack my things and head out without glancing at any of them. It's raining and I don't have an umbrella, this day couldn't get any worse. And my bag handle snaps, great, wonderful, perfect.
“Screw you, universe!” I mutter heatedly and bend to pack my things. A strong wind blows as I collect them and I inhale the sweetest scent. It's strong and nostalgic and jars my memory. I jerk my head up and gaze across to the parking lot. A man is standing by a black car. He's tall and built in a grey overcoat. He's wearing black gloves which I find odd. His face is obscured by the umbrella he carries. But his scent brings a shine of tears to my eyes because I could have sworn it was just my imagination. He smells like the man of my dreams. Literally.
Mr Stranger lifts the umbrella and I am startled by the deep red eyes that glow iridescently. From this distance I can see his black hair is long way past his shoulders, tied back. Shorter strands fall graciously across his face and cover his ears. He has a scar on his right brow which extends into his hairline. He's deadly handsome and mine?? Well fudge me.
*a phone rings...........*
He's alive? How? How is he here? I paid you to finish the job, do you have any idea what you've done?
It clicks off.
