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Grey's Alpha Mating Night
Clara “I’m so looking forward to the ball!” “Yah! I wish to find a nice guy. A foreigner will be good. I’m bored staying in the Moonstone.” Girls chattered as they flocked into the pack house. My heart pounded within my chest as I took a deep breath, lifting my skirt to join the crowd. All around me were the members of the Moonstone pack preening, picking fights, growling, and scratching themselves to distract them from their nerves. Every single one of them were dressed in their most flashy, elegant apparel. Women wore gorgeous gowns that showed off their legs and their naked backs; men wore tight tunics that accentuated their muscles. Some even bared their entire upper torso. Nothing was left to the imagination. All of our physical prowess and beauty was not something to blush over; it was to be flaunted now. Tonight, on the eve of Diantha’s glory, the full moon, even I, the cursed daughter of traitors would be granted supposed mercy from the Alpha for the first time in eighte
Grey's Alpha Tormentors
Clara I wanted Sisley to choke on her words. Yes, I was technically her family. It must have galled her, for her power-hungry father to take me into her family. Sisley’s father Bernard Dover, that filthy Gamma, “adopted” me after my parents’ death. Bernard took me in as his ward. The pack thought he did it out of kindness and mercy. But no. It had nothing to do with goodwill. It was just a pathetic political plot. Bernard had always eyed the position my late father once held. He had always wanted to be the second-in-command, the Beta of Moonstone. But our Alpha had the last laugh. When the leader announced to the shock of all that he would abolish the rank of Beta in the pack, Bernard flew into a fury. I still remember the look on his face, and the red tinge in his eyes. It was as if I had been the one to dash all his dreams of power. I was just a child. He tore into my flesh with his teeth and punched me repeatedly until my bones cracked. I still have the scars on my back, where
Grey's Alpha Pack Ritual
Clara Maybe that’s why the Alpha family had gone all out with the banquet hall. He might want to impress the elites from the Dark Shade – the most powerful and prestigious pack in the entire South. An uneasy sensation turned in my stomach. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s my burning shoulder. I entered through the doors with other lesser werewolves. The hall was meticulously cleaned. Elites like Griffin, Sisley and Lord Dover were given special trios on the second floor. I watched them enter the large balcony that jutted out like a perch – one could see everything that occurred on the floors from that position. One lone werewolf stood behind the balcony’s black railing, watching everything. He was a tall older man with features I’ve associated more with a crow than a wolf. Everything about him was sharp: his eyes, his lips, his chin, and well-trimmed beard. He was the only one allowed to not conceal his claws. They were black and elongated. His arms were held behind his back in a pose
Grey's Alpha Man in Shade
Clara I stared wild-eyed into the calm, pretty face of Hazel. She wore a crimson silk gown that accentuated her shining black hair. Red was after all the color of luck for us werewolves; it is the color of blood after a fresh, clean kill. The other color of luck was the deep dark blue hue that I clothed myself in. It was the inky indigo sky that the moon swims through. “Hazel, goddess above, I’m so sorry,” I said in embarrassment. Hazel smiled sadly at me. There was no blame in her pretty features, and a surge of guilt and sisterly affection rose like a rock in my throat. She turned me around, and I could feel her cool hands caressing my torn shoulder where Lord Dover had dug in his claws. “Was this the work of Lord Dover?” she asked in a low voice. “Who else?” I growled. “Come,” she said. “This won’t do. You can’t be battered and bruised tonight.” “Hazel—” I said, but she pulled me through the swath of werewolves. “You don’t need to watch,” Hazel said. She knew of the love
Grey's Alpha Cryptic Prince
Clara Who was him? How long had he been eavesdropping our conversation? Hazel and I made no move or sound, but we both tensed up. The werewolf yawned. His beauty was ethereal and his movements foxlike. Unlike the muscular meatheads of our pack, this male seemed to prize lithe grace over bodybuilding. Yet, I could tell he was strong. I had never seen him. He must be an outsider, a foreigner from another pack. And I did not recognize his exotic scent – there was a strange spicy aroma that I couldn’t place. He drew out a long black pipe from his tunic and filled it with some kind of dried powder. Every movement was slow and calculated, as if he didn’t mind my growing discomfort. Hazel gave a short but graceful bow. “I apologize for disturbing your repose, Prince Legiere.” She clasped my hand. “I wished to tend her wounds before the coupling began.” I could sense her body tense up, stiffened. Prince? He stretched and yawned again loudly. Once again, I was reminded of a crafty fox
Grey's Alpha Run! Now!
Clara How could I be this ignorant? Girls in the line had talked about them. Dark Shade. Of course. They were the Elite of all the Elites. That absurdly wealthy pack in all of the Twin Canines. And Deanneth Legiere. He was their notorious Alpha. Like my parents, he was traitor to his pack. Only he was not only able to survive, but he also had succeeded in subjugating the most powerful pack in the entire South. He took over the pack from his elder brother Bruess Legiere who should have been throned after their late father’s death. He was a usurper. Just imagine how dangerous he would be. And I had just told him that he was a disgusting pig. My mind swirled with various thoughts and assumptions. I pondered on what I had just done and what it meant. My blood froze, my heart sank. A wild, heady feeling churned in the pit of my stomach. It was a mix of fear and self-destruction. I need to run. I have to run, now! I would run tonight anyway, and I just needed to prepone it. I tri
Grey's Alpha Fight
Trigger Warning: This chapter contains abuse, violence, and emotional relapse. Please read at your own risk. Clara Gerald was a monster of a werewolf with massive muscles; he was matchless in any one-on-one fight. They said that he had fought every Elite and lower class werewolf in the gladiator trials for physical supremacy, and he never lost once. I would be a fool if I thought I could defeat him. But it didn’t matter if I lost. I was dead anyway. If I wasn’t beaten to a pulp by the Lieutenant, then I would be taken to be questioned and tortured. At least I would go down on my own terms. I snarled at Gerald and threw myself at him. The stone was in my hand. A grim smile was on his face. The rock collided with his upper arm, as he raised them in time to block. Any lesser werewolf’s arm would have shattered instantly, but Gerald was built like a mountain. He lifted his giant fist and let it crash on my head – or he would’ve gotten my head, if I didn’t dodge just in time. Instead
Grey's Alpha Prince's Gamble
Clara A crying child standing alone in front of a hall of werewolves. Rumors of betrayal. The yellow eyes of our Alpha as he sat in a highchair, listening to his advisers. Their urgent whispers. “Kill her too. Kill her before she grows old and takes her revenge. The seeds of treachery must not be allowed to take root.” “Am I that weak to need to kill a mewling child?” The matter was settled. The Elites and advisers all spoke at once in consternation and shock. An ambitious red-haired werewolf with a goatee put himself forward. His tones were flattering. “Let me take her as a ward, then, my Alpha. I shall house her until you decide what to do with her.” “I have already decided, Lord Dover. But do as you wish.” The tall werewolf then stood up and stared down at me. I saw his claws. They dripped with blood. The scent of blood in nostrils. Sharp and bitter. Pungent. Spicy? Why did it smell like spice? Oh gods, why did it smell like burning mushrooms? ** I groaned and tried t
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