My love for growing crops wasn’t always so taxing. Back when I was in my old pack, I used to enjoy planting seeds in the greenhouse I had behind the cottage I grew up in and nurturing them as I watched them grow fruitfully. There was a profound sense of achievement I’d feel when they bloomed and floweredthe gifts of the earth, and it was my break from being the target of hostility within that pack.
Much has changed since then, like my passion for plants turning into something useful, so I have a place to sleep. But my position in the Moonshine Pack is just as worthless as I was to my old pack, if not worse. The males in my old pack would never violate me…
Except for that one time, I recall with a cold shiver slithering down my spine.
No…
I shouldn’t be thinking about that.
Sure, nothing has changed, but at least I have a place to sleep and a purpose in life. I have duties that demand my full attention, forcing me out of my wallowing slump and tightening my grip on the now-full basket as I head out of the greenhouse.
The setting sun on the horizon leaves the air feeling cooler, but my innate inner wolf allows me to withstand the harsh conditions of the Alaskan cold. I wish it allowed me to fight more than just the weather, but being born an omega werewolf is a death sentence; each day is a challenge to escape.
Scoffing sarcastically, I shake my head as I make my way toward the village using the back pathways through the forest. Sometimes I wonder if having faith in the Moon Goddess will do me any good when I’ve been fated to suffer all my life. At this point, I’ve even given up questioning why I have to face these obstacles, just accepting the cards I’ve been dealt while navigating my survival.
My time on Earth is always eventful, which is why I cannot make it to the pack hall without being spotted by some of the males who whistle suggestively despite my best attemptsto cover up my body and hide away. My stomach churns with disgust as I slow down my steps, feeling their gnawing presence behind me and knowing that it’s best to just face them instead of pretending like I can’t hear them.
“Yvonne…” one of them drawls as he comes closer, his sinister tone sending another shiver down my spine when I recognize it. His boots crunch the snow beneath the soles like they did this morning, his muddy scent filling the air as it wraps its menacing tendrils through my nostrils.
Gulping hard, I try my best to remain composed, even when internally, I’m grappling with fear that I refuse to show to the pack’s beta.
What’s worse is that, unlike this morning, he’s not alone. A second set of boots trudges through the snow, an imminent, heated presence arresting my left when Sam comes toward my right.
“Beta Sam…” I murmur with as much politeness as I can muster, considering that he tried to violate me just this morning. My knuckles pale from where my fingers clutch the basket with such fervor that I feel the woven threads crushing under my grip.
I have to be more careful lest I let Sam know that what happened this morning affected me. I can’t risk slipping up and facing more humiliation.
“What are ya doin’ out here, Yvie?” he asks, using the nickname as if we’re close, an obnoxious smile reaching his cold blue eyes.
Shuddering internally, I plaster a smile on my face as I lift my head, taking into account the other beta on my left.
Darius.
He’s Sam’s best friend and partner in crime.
“Oh, I was just on my way to the hall,” I say, motioning to the basket with a nod that allows me to pull my eyes away from Sam’s rugged, repulsive face. “I have to prepare dinner for the pack.”
I stifle the urge to frown, because it’s no secret that I’m the pack’s cook. What else would I be doing, lugging a basket of fresh produce through the village?
How does Sam think he gets to eat every day?
Why are we even having this conversation?
There’s a strange sound of dry scraping that comes when Sam strokes his thumb and index across his jawline, prompting me to look up as if he’s actively calling my attention. A glint of sadistic ill intent is evident in his eyes as he stares down at me, his heinous thoughts written clearly in the look on his face.
“Ya know … I could always put in a word with Alpha Jackson,” Sam suggests as he shrugs a shoulder vindictively. “I could get ya off the hook for a night. Maybe ya need a break.”
I shake my head slowly, keeping my smile pressed on like a mask of protection. “I don’t need the night off. I enjoy cooking for the pack.”
“Yeah,” Darius chimes in, taking a step closer and breathing hot, pungent air at my ear. “But us betas know how much work you omegas put in for the pack. Sometimes, it’s okay to take a break. Unwind for a bit.”
Sam snickers as he leans in, his eyes narrowing into thin slits as he watches me through the gnarly veil of blonde lashes.
“What do ya like to do to unwind, Yvie?” he asks with a brutish chuckle that sends fear trickling down my spine.
The malicious glint in his eyes is enough to indicate his intent. I’ve experienced it countless times, only able to deflect itthanks to my agile frame and intuition that seems to heighten in moments of danger. Like a sixth sense, my eardrums always bleat with a signal of danger to warn me that I have to calculate my every move.
I’ve never quite understood it; my intuition has always been inexplicable, at least for a werewolf. It’s the only sense that heightens, goosebumps spreading across my flesh to warn me that danger is on the horizon.
