I've been in a state of grief. I know my father would be disappointed if he could see me now. All this time has passed and I still haven't avenged his death. His killer still roams free. He may have been a kind and great leader but he would never have let such a disgrace on his community go unpunished. He wouldn't have failed.
My father would have undoubtedly dealt with the rogue by now.
These thoughts torment me all the way back to the training fields.
"My Alpha, our warriors, came close tonight," Kimon says to me.
He's trying to reassure me, but his words only serve to further aggravate me. I clench my jaw as my shoulders tense up. I attempt to hold my tongue and release my balled-up fists.
I exhale without responding. The situation is exasperating. Oblivious to my mounting rage, Kimon fills the silence and continues his rant.
"We will vindicate your father. We will get the rogue. It's only a matter of time," he says.
I know he means well, but why is he sounding so damned condescending? I'm not a child. Empty words won't placate me.
I can't help but think, why haven't we already captured the bastard if we're so capable?
Images of the rogues replay in my mind, like a nightmare on a loop. First images of the battle and our Alpha, my father, taking his final breath.
The sounds of maniacal howling float around in my skull.
And then I picture the menacing look in his eyes as he made his escape. The rogue Omegas are torturing me.
I scoff and shake my head. I try to loosen the images from my brain and store it far away, where I'll never see it again. The young sentry especially, I know that the funeral rights will happen in the town. But I can't focus on any of it. This failure, these losses, they're a never ending maze I can't seem to escape.
"I won't rest until I have ended his life," I say to nobody in particular.
I see the look on Kimon's face and realize I've interrupted his speech. It's too late to stop my words, so I let him have it.
I know my anger is misplaced, but I don't care. I release all I have onto him like silver bullets.
"We aren't doing enough. The time for excuses is over. My father would be furious, Kimon!"
I'm seeing red and frothing at the mouth as I make my case. The rage from everything, my father, the escape, the dead sentry, even Ana erupts from me, my words are like lava.
There's saliva flying in all directions and I hear myself getting louder and louder. I'm growling between sentences.
"This reflects on me. They're taunting me! You don't think I can see that? It's bullshit! This is personal! I won't allow rogues to make a fool out of me, out of my pack! Not now. Never!"
"Yes, My Alpha," Kimon responds with an air of surprise. He must feel like I'm berating him.
"Round up the fighters. We're done here," I say with a snarl.
I'm doubting myself more and more. I fear my pack will see it. Or even worse, if another pack and other leaders see my weakness, my insecurities. My inability to avenge my father may look like I can't protect my pack.
I think back to Alpha training with my father. The lessons he instilled within me. He spoke candidly, but sometimes I had the feeling I was missing something. Perhaps something innate. A certain sense of esteem. He could sense it though, this is proof I won't be able to fill his shoes.
"Being Alpha is not only about wearing a title," he told me. "There are duties to fulfill. To yourself and to your Pack."
He had a way of making it look so easy. I can't help but feel like I'm not living up to his legacy, and it makes me feel small. It makes me mad!
I stomp my foot against a nearby tree, and it splits open against the sheer force. I look down at my hands and notice I'm trembling. I don't want the others to see me in this state of mind, so I leave the terrain without addressing them.
My father would have despised the sight of me at that moment. Weak and insolent. Incapable of protecting a good young wolf to top it all off.
I make my way home through the village. The evening is tranquil, and the air is cool. I take deep breaths and listen to the sounds of the quiet town. Despite the calming sounds and fragrance of a warm evening, I'm still struggling to regain my composure.
All I can think about is my need to rest. I make a bee-line toward my home, where I know I am safe. Where I don't have to carry the weight of an entire pack. I look forward to a hot, steamy shower. I want to wash away the day. To wash away the blood. To wash away my tears.
I eventually arrive at the front door, where an amazing smell of a hearty meal greets me. I am relieved and comforted by the prospect of a cozy night with my woman. Gisele is my greatest source of respite, and I don't take it for granted.
I reach for the doorknob and notice the black earth and rusty blood packed underneath my nails. I see a flash of my reflection in the window beside the door and the image speaks volumes.
The man staring back at me has dark circles beneath his eyes.
I'm covered in foreign blood and suddenly it's all that I can smell. It overwhelms me, and I gag.
I look even worse than I feel. Like I've been to war.
I can't say that it isn't the case.
As I step through the front door, Gisele welcomes me with a look of fright and concern. She's waited up the whole night. Before she even opens her mouth to speak, I know I don't have the energy to reassure her.
I try to go past her, but she stands stubbornly in my way. Her arms are reached out, and she latches on to me, gripping me. I pull away slightly so I can see her face. Her eyes gloss over with a mix of emotion. She worries too much, I think to myself.
"I just want to take a hot shower and get some rest," I tell her as I pull my body away from her to head to the bathroom. Maybe I can steer the conversation if I start it.
"Please don't shut me out," she says. She's pleading with me with her eyes.
"Gisele, not now!" I only realize how frustrated I'm feeling when I hear the words echo through our home.
She looks startled, but she's not afraid of me. She takes a step towards me and I feel my body stiffen. I fold my arms across my chest and step away from her. She looks deeply into my eyes and I don't break her gaze. It feels like we're in a stalemate. I hate when she gets like this.
"Please," I say to her. I've softened my voice, but I'm still firm. "You don't know what I need better than I do."
"You don't even give me a chance to try!" she says.
Now she's yelling. She's unleashing every little thing, the pressure, ignoring Ana, not focusing on her enough. Why do women always use one little fight to bring up every piece of emotional baggage? Her words hurt, and it triggers me. I've just come from battle and she wants to fight. Unbelievable.
I don't know how to explain to her that she can't help me now. She can't make this better. She won't hear me, even if I try.
"Give me a break," she says and I move to step around her. She blocks my path again. I feel like she's pushing my buttons, and it infuriates me.
"Gisele, enough! I'm not kidding! Leave me alone!" I yell.
The rage I feel is unmistakable. I feel myself sweat and I feel a throbbing behind my left eye. I see a dead young wolf's body being carried home on the backs of his peers. I try to soothe it by rubbing my temple, but it makes no difference.
"I'm going to take a shower," I say to her and as I prepare to take a step, she repeats her earlier maneuver.
That's the final straw. I see a flash of white and I let out a menacing growl. The growl is so turbulent, the air blows her hair back. I take another step towards her and I roar right into her face. I release bursts of violent destructive energy and hot air all over her.
She's not afraid of me, and she stands her ground. She steps towards me again and she waits for me to get it out of my system.
And when I eventually have, then we stand there facing one another in silence.
"Are you done?" she asks.
I nod my response. She takes my hand and leads me to a stool at our kitchen counter.
She presses her hand against my chest and guides me to take a seat. I'm exhausted and I oblige her.
I exhale softly and I notice my hands again, still muddy and bloodstained. Still trembling.
Gisele stands behind me and she rubs my shoulders. Her hands are soft and inviting. I melt into her touch.
I feel her kiss me gently behind my right ear, and then slowly down my neck and across my shoulders. I can hear her tempered breathing, and it calms me down.
She bites me tenderly on the shoulder and I feel the hair on my arms raise. A surge of adrenaline courses through my blood and she has my full attention. My senses heighten. Every part of me suddenly feels alive.
"You, okay?" she whispers into my ear.
I feel her wet mouth and warm breath on my earlobe.
A shiver runs through me, and my heartbeat quickens. I nod my response.
"Good," she says. "I worry about you."
She slides her hands over my frame. From my shoulders, down my arms, and onto my back. She reaches inside my shirt. I savor her lingering touch. All the while, she's kissing my neck and my back.
She knows where I like to feel loved.
Her hands continue to trail further and further down my body, and I'm just about ready to blow when she stops completely. I look at her with my jaw wide open as I try to catch my breath.
Suddenly, she stands in front of me, and she looks furious.
"Gisele what the -"
"Don't ever fucking talk to me like that again. Don't ever fucking raise your voice to me," she calmly says. I can only receive her tone as a very serious threat. She is in no mood to put up with my temper.
Do you understand me?" she asks.
I still haven't caught my breath. She's got me in a tight spot. I fervently nod my compliance.
She looks between my legs with a mischievous grin. She seems pleased with herself. The smug look on her face pisses me off.
"You want me to take care of that?" she asks. She's being cheeky and I hate it. It's unbecoming. But I can't resist her any longer.
I grab her blouse with both hands and turn her around so her back is facing me. I pull her wrists together behind her back and pin her head down onto the kitchen counter.
She's breathing heavily and giggling.
She spreads her legs open and wiggles her rear against my front. Subtle, I think to myself.
I love the sight of her at that moment. I feel I'm in full control and I want her even more for giving me that.
I lift her blouse and drop her pants in two clean sweeping movements. Her puckered mound glistens as she awaits me. Her pale behind is more impressive than the Moon itself.
I rub her white skin with my palm and I feel the heat emanate from her.
She is something to behold. Nothing can draw my eyes away from Gisele.
The moment of impact is like a rush of cool air hitting my lungs after I've been drowning. It's addictive and I want to feel it again and again.
And I can. So, I do. The novelty never wears off. I want to get lost in her. She validates my performance with her feedback. She grunts and growls. She whimpers and tells me to keep going. Her head is flat against the countertop and her sounds come out muffled and primal.
She's warm, soft. My appetite for her is insatiable.
We exchange energies. She is as ravenous as I am. She is animalistic, and she fights back. I give it all I've got. I feel like I can go on and on, but just as I feel that the rage is peaking, it subsides.
A wave of heat comes over me and I howl from the bottom of my lungs. I shudder as she takes the last of what I have to give her. She provides me with sweet relief.
Underneath me, Gisele is lying sweaty and breathless. I release her arms and she looks back at me with a grin.