Chapter 1
Loius POV
Thick flowing brown hair that you simply want to run your fingers over, and warm caramel-colored eyes that appeared innocent but were cunning. Narrow shoulders and a toned chest made his clothes stretch, revealing his tiny muscles behind the thin material.
I sighed dreamily and leaned my head on my hand, my elbow striking the flour bowl and knocking it to the ground. As it tipped over the counter, everyone shouted, and I hurriedly went down with it. I'm not sure why, but there was no way I could have seen it coming.
I was left on the floor covered in flour and surrounded by a mess when the white cloud vanished.
"Loius Fredrick!" exclaims the crowd.
The voice of the head cook, which pierced through the stunned hush, made me cringe. My ears were burning with shame, so I tried to divert myself by sweeping the flour into a pile with my hands.
"Get out of bed and get a broom. We don't have time for this; instead, help with laundry in the basement after cleaning."
I raised my eyes to the head cook, who happened to be my mother.
"Yes, ma'am," I said as I pushed myself up off the ground, squeaking. I took a quick look around the room and was glad to see that the Alpha's son had left the kitchen. It was only other Omegas' eyes that were judging me.
I dropped my head to avoid looking anyone in the eyes as I dashed to the utility closet.
I should be used to the humiliation such accidents bring by now. While other students received medals for being the fastest reader or greatest writer in elementary school, I received an award for being the clumsiest. Things seemed to always fall around me, I suppose it was true. I'm one of them.
When I returned with the broom, I quickly cleaned up the flour mess. The others adjusted their ingredients as I approached the counter, as if expecting me to make a bigger mess.
I kept my elbows close to my body and avoided moving too quickly. I picked up the dustpan and swept everything into it before heading to the trash can. When I fell again, I didn't notice the foot a female Omega held out, and laughter ensued.
I forced myself up and glanced at the female, coughing and waving away the powder cloud. The brown-haired, blue-eyed woman was one of those Omegas for whom no one truly knew why. She wasn't as subservient or intimidated by violence as the rest of us; in fact, she was just as petite as the rest of us.
Ciara Webb is a well-known figure in the community. Many of her classmates refer to her as
"the cutest female in the pack" at school.
For two reasons, I didn't like her.
She's a spoiled girl who bullies anyone who she considers to be beneath her, and she's had her eye on my Jason Williams since eighth grade.
"Torin!" My face burned with embarrassment as I looked up at my mother, who was unable to contain her own laughter. I leapt to my feet and dashed out of the kitchen, colliding with someone but too humiliated to stop and apologize. I'm the runt, so I couldn't have hurt them or anyone else. Clearly, he's in on the joke as well.
Instead of going to the basement as my mother had instructed, I left the pack house and returned home. It wasn't a long trip; I typically ride my bike to work with my mother, but these days I find myself walking home.
Merry Street is a dead end back road that leads to my house. The raspberry and blackberry plants that practically everyone had in their yards inspired the name. They'd be full of berries in the summer, and I'd be able to eat on them while walking. With winter approaching, the bushes were barren.
When I arrived at my childhood home, I found my father's cruiser parked in the driveway, indicating he was home on his lunch break. I sighed as my shoulders slumped once more.
I began dragging my feet as I walked up the gravel drive to the white two-story house, resulting in me tripping forward and collapsing to my hands and knees. I sat back on my heels, looking down at my bloodied, burning palms. The scratches were not deep, and they would heal until just blood remained.
"You've arrived early." Dad remarked this while he sat in his recliner with a half-eaten sandwich and a root beer in his hand. Because she despises beer guts, Mom won't let him have the actual thing.
"Yeah," I said, allowing the word to linger. Dad turned away from the home improvement show on TV to examine my sorry situation. My hands and knees are still caked in flour, and I'm covered in blood. Dad growled under his breath and shook his head. He's probably still perplexed as to how such a powerful male could produce a runt.
Before proceeding to the door at the end of the hall, I stopped by the bathroom to clean the blood off my hands. I closed the door behind me, which led to more steps leading to the attic.
The attic was once used to store old furniture and holiday decorations, but when I was fourteen, I persuaded my parents to let me clean it out and turn it into my bedroom. My bed, desk, dresser, and bookcase were the only things I had up here. If someone doesn't drag me down or I don't go hunting for food, it's where I spend the most of my time.
I jumped onto my bed and sprawled out after taking off my clothing. School was out for the Thanksgiving holiday, and I was doing everything I normally did, except sitting in classrooms for eight hours. I closed my eyes and thought about the one thing that seems to be on my mind all the time as I cuddled up to my pillows.
My Mate was introduced to me.
I'll be eighteen in a few weeks and will be able to recognize my Mate. Hopefully, it'll be the one male I've had a crush on since I was a kid.